#i don't want to feel all of this anymore could someone take it away please

[save-the-villainous-cat]

mother feed us we are hungry in horny jail

"I didn't expect you to show up," the hero said. They worried their bottom lip between their teeth.

"How could I not?"

"You have never been a fan of goodbyes. You usually just disappear whenever you want."

"This is different," the villain said. They took a step towards the hero and touched their collarbone immediately. It had become a habit, a simple motion that calmed both their anxiety. The hero knew about that, about the endless worries and the bottomless fears. It was everlasting, it was always hovering.

It came with the job, they supposed. But the villain had it, too. And the hero's colleagues had it and the hero's boss had it. Like a sickness with no cure.

So, in a way, a simple touch could be like medicine.

"I'm scared," the hero admitted.

"Why?" The villain pressed a soft kiss to the hero's shoulder and the hero allowed themselves to imagine this was an evening like any other. Just for a second, though.

"I can't lose you and I...I just can't let go. I can't. I don't want to."

It had started half a year ago. The villain had been injured and the hero, although absolutely terrified, had saved them from certain death. Ever since, the villain had been like a protective shadow that followed them.

And then one night, they had kissed for the first time when the villain had saved the hero.

What had happened after that was quite clear: two people who were not supposed to be with each other couldn't keep their hands off each other and started regularly without anyone else knowing.

And now, the villain had to leave for three months.

"You don't have to let go," the villain said. Their voice was - as always - calm and soft. Their hand travelled down the hero's side until it reached their hip and the hero couldn't fight the oncoming blush. "I promise you won't have to."

"But what if you come back and you don't like me anymore? What if you find someone else?" the hero asked. Those questions had boiled inside of them for quite a while but up until now, they had never dared to whisper them.

Because, after all, this relationship wasn't official. It wasn't a thing. It was behind the backs of bosses, friends, family even. Behind closed doors. They didn't go out together, they didn't pick up each other from work. They didn't meet the other's family. They didn't go on vacation together, they weren't friends with each other's friends.

It wasn't what the hero had expected. But the hero had also not expected the villain to develop such a soft spot for them.

And if someone else could give the villain exactly that: a relationship without all the secrecy for outsiders, then maybe it was better for the hero to let go now.

"No one compares to you, my love," the villain said. Their lips met the hero's and it was tender enough for the hero to feel protected from even anxiety. "And I am selfish. I want a good person to be my lover. You are, undoubtedly, the best human being I will ever encounter in my life. I'd be stupid to throw that away for a quickie."

"You mean that?" The villain started to kiss the hero's throat. At first, it was quite innocent but the hero's heartbeat started racing when they realised the villain was taking their sweet time and turned kisses into suction. Every hickey they left behind, they kissed softly.

"You want me to prove it," the villain murmured against the hero's throat, "don't you?"

The villain took the overwhelmed hero's hand and pressed their nemesis against the desk of the hero's office.

"I...I..."

"Yes?" The villain's hips were against theirs in seconds and the hero (stupidly) couldn't find any words. To have the villain's undivided attention on them, their entire focus, could be overpowering but whenever the hero felt anxiety crawl up their calf, the villain's fingers crawling down their thigh relaxed them.

"Please don't tease me," the hero begged. They grabbed the villain's forearm and squeezed weakly. Partly as a warning, partly as a plea. They took in deep breaths. The villain desired them like no one had before.

It was nearly ridiculous how much the villain needed touch. Sometimes, it seemed like they needed physical contact to function. In the mornings, the hero had to climb on top every time, touching the villain's chest and throat to get them to come out of bed.

"Don't worry, darling." The villain found the zipper on the hero's back and pulled down slowly while their eyes jumped from the hero's eyes to their lips. Their flat hand slipped under the superhero suit, touching tired muscles and scarred skin. The hero had been on guard duty the last few hours, so naturally, they were a little tired. "I will tease you a little. Only a little."

Their hand traveled down the hero's bare back. Their fingers stopped when they reached the hero's underwear. And the hero had to gasp for air. Too surprised to take over any type of control, they put themselves into the villain's hands and the villain played with the fabric of the hero's underwear between their fingers.

"You're evil."

"So I've been told." The villain smiled their brilliant smile and tipped their head to the side. "I love you."

The hero's heart stopped. The villain had never said that before.

They wanted to say it back, but the villain's hand was on the best way to slip under the hero's underwear and do some unholy things. So, the hero only sighed happily, despite the dooming last night together, despite the fear and the anxiety. In three months, a lot could happen.

But the villain was here.

"Those thoughts of yours are so silly." The villain pressed another kiss to the hero's lips, more demanding this time. With their thumb slipping into the hero's mouth, they asked for access and the hero nearly melted when they felt the villain's tongue in their mouth.

They could barely kiss back. Could barely think.

"You're mine, don't you know?" the villain whispered and a shiver ran down the hero's spine. The villain was serious. Very serious. "And now, let me prove it to you."

[mostlydeadallday]

I have so much work to do. I am so behind and have so much to catch up on and I am hiding I am hiding I am hiding from it all.

[dekuneho]

let me ☆ ( ​prohero!katsuki x fem!prohero!reader ) — you underestimate how gentle katsuki can be, if you needed it | smut

( warnings. ) minors and ageless blogs dni ! fingering, praise, soft gentle sex iktr, reader is going thru tough times & katsuki takes care of you, timeskip!katsuki — 18+

You underestimate just how gentle Katsuki can be.

The instant your fingers click on the lock, Katsuki is already a step behind, his presence a looming force over you like an unshaken shadow. There must be something on your face; Katsuki frowns as he studies it intently, fingers ghosting over your arms, like he’s trying to read between lines that you haven’t even drawn in yet.

"Something happened." He doesn't phrase it as a question, sounding sure of himself. “What?”

"I'm safe," you swear to him, pulling your coat off. "No bruises or anything. See?"

He ignores your extended arms, pinning your gaze with his own. "What," Katsuki demands.

"Katsuki—” You sigh and attempt to push past him. He just rears back and keeps his eyes trained on your face searchingly. "Katsuki, I'm too tired to deal with this."

His brows dip downward further. "I can't help you if you don't tell me."

You falter, struggling to maintain this flimsy display of strength — he knows you too well for that.

He waits. Patient, gentle, like he’s so sure that he can carry this burden with you. You know he can. It’s that fact that makes you think, Of course not. Of course you could never be too tired of him. He never tires of me, too.

“I don't—” you say, looking away, “I don’t know if I can keep doing this anymore. Am I even doing anything right?”

There must be some other reason — Katsuki is evidently fumbling at the threads to tie it all together in his head, but as of the moment, that is all you’re feeling. You don’t know if you can keep doing this. Your limbs want to sag to the ground, knowing it has to prepare again to face the brunt of tomorrow — but you have to care for it, too, or else you’ll wake up dead. Katsuki doesn't deserve that, even if you’re falling apart.

"Everything is just so hard," you continue, the surge of emotions you'd been desperately keeping a tight leash on bursting at the seams; "None of it makes any sense. I don't know if I'm doing anything right."

Katsuki's frown eases. "C'mere."

The next breath you take comes out wet and shaky. The next step you take gravitates to him.

Katsuki pulls you to his chest as you sob. He buries his nose into your hair, rubbing shapes into the small of your back. It almost feels like he’s coaxing it out of you with every touch. You cry violently, lungs spasming, everything pouring out finally — and throughout it all, Katsuki doesn’t split away, even as your tears and snot leave a disgusting patch on his shoulder. If anything, he keeps you enveloped in his warmth, as if he can tell that it helps even without being told.

“N-nothing happened,” you sniffle, trembling, and Katsuki pushes off just enough to see your face; “But it was so overwhelming. I just — I dunno.”

“Baby,” Katsuki starts. You’ve never heard him speak so softly before, low and rough and embodying gentleness that you don't know if you deserve. “Let me take care of you tonight, yeah?”

That sounds good. God, you want him to do that so bad. But looking so weak in front of someone so remarkably strong like Katsuki is embarrassing. You're not some child needing to be told that you're doing good and everything will be all right — needing to be coddled because you had a bad day.

“I want to,” Katsuki says; you feel as though he can read your mind. "Let me."

"…okay." You nod, averting your gaze. "Please take care of me."

And so Katsuki helps you bathe, kisses your knuckles, pulls one of his shirts down that reaches to your mid-thigh, brushes your hair out of your eyes, feeds you dinner he's cooked, and kisses you again. All the while, it's silent. Peaceful. It should unnerve you that Katsuki hasn't spoken a single word since, but you revel in the comfort of hearing his measured breaths instead.

It’s like you can hear him think: You’ll be okay. So let me take care of you. Let me help you be okay.

You feel like you're melting out of your own body, sinking into the comforter's embrace on your shared bed, losing tension in Katsuki's scent and affection.

“Pretty,” Katsuki mumbles, his hand crawling down.

Then you go still when Katsuki watches your expression as he glides a finger in between your legs.

Your cheeks burn. "I — w-what—"

Katsuki hums, thoughtful. "You're already…"

Well, it happens that today is a day of many discoveries. It turns out, Katsuki's hands can be so soft as he works shampoo through your head, and you get horny seeing how attuned your boyfriend is to your needs.

Katsuki can be so gentle with his hands. Of course you’d been thinking of how gentle he can be elsewhere.

"You want me to?" Katsuki asks, slipping a hand under your shirt. His heated fingers caress your waist, his thumb rubbing circles that trickle hotness down elsewhere.

You aren't sure why you feel so shy. You've done worse with each other. "You don't have to. If you just feel like you have to—"

Katsuki lifts an impatient brow. "You think I wouldn't want to?"

You squirm, suddenly aware of the empty ache that is longing for Katsuki. "W-well—"

Katsuki kisses under your right ear before he tugs on your underwear and flings them off to the side. He pulls back to devour your lips in a kiss, swallowing your noise of surprise. Your hands find home in his hair and he thumbs on the source of your heat.

You jolt and choke on a moan as he increases the mind-numbing friction. "Let me take care of you," Katsuki says; "let me, say yes."

"Yes," you cry out in his mouth. You feel floaty with the surge of lust shuddering through your entire body. "Please."

When you break away, you see his pupils wholly overtaking his iris, not even a hint of red. Katsuki licks over his teeth as he stares like he hasn't already eaten dinner. Like he’s doing himself a favor. You wrap tentative fingers around his wrist to guide his hand to your cunt, twitching because it knows it's going to be filled so well with Katsuki here.

Katsuki would make it so good; you know it. You know it so well. He’d know how you want it — need it.

He groans as you feel yourself get wetter. "Baby, shit — you needed this, yeah?"

"Katsuki—"

"I know." Katsuki rubs on the sensitive bud of your clit, kissing your jaw. "I know. Relax, baby, relax for me. Make it feel good. Just like that. Yeah, fuck, like that."

You feel dizzy. Katsuki teases one finger in, watching your face with rapt attention. You're so wet that he slides in easily; he could slip in two more just like that. But Katsuki is focused on making you feel the sensations instead, taking it slow, one by one, leaving you a fluttering, whining putty under him.

Katsuki’s heavy breathing makes you tighten around him involuntarily. He curses, patience rescinded. "One more?"

"Yes, please please — more — ah—"

He curls his fingers, and you tremble and whine, white-knuckled, gripping him, trying to meld yourself into him. Katsuki echoes your sound in a rasp, "Mm. You hear yourself? Fuckin' gorgeous."

It should be embarrassing that you're close already, yet who can blame you with Katsuki overwhelming your senses with every inch of his body — all over and inside you? His fingers are hot, and you're burning up, a coil in your stomach begging to be released.

Your legs shake as your back arches. "Kats — Katsuki — ah, please, please. Please, I'm—"

Katsuki kisses you through all of it. "I know. I know, baby. Don’t gotta beg. I gotcha — give it to me."

You thought you'd already exhausted all your tears, but Katsuki whispering in your ear and coaxing an orgasm out of you so tenderly pulls heat into your eyes. You forget about the weight on your shoulders. Right now, you can only think of how you could fall and Katsuki would catch you. You cry as you break, pulse jumpstarting, and Katsuki takes care of you all over again.

[all4yoi]

𝒩ot a bet﹕hyung line

𝑒nhypen x fem!reader ⚹ cw: each member ranges from 5-1k wc, fluff, lowercase intended, they swear, crying, uh someone kneels, not proud w heejake's 😞, not proofread ( lmk if i missed something! )

sypnosis : upon learning that you were merely the stake in a bet, they wasted no time in mending your relationship.

part one !

★ LEE HEESEUNG ( 0.8k wc )

"y/n wait!"

heeseung's voice only made you walk faster. you didn't want to humiliate yourself further by stopping and talking to him. all you wanted to do now was to just march out of the school, go home, lock yourself in your room and maybe eat a tub of ice cream while you ugly cry yourself to sleep.

"y/n, please." heeseung pleaded, taking your elbow in his grasp as he spun you around and pulling you closer to the point you can feel his breath on fanning your nose.

he looked at you pleadingly. "it's okay," you managed to say in a shaky voice. "i understand, you can all laugh at me all you want now-" he shook his head, "it's okay really!" you added, pursing your lips.

"i just want to be left alone now okay?" and even if he knew you didn't mean just 'now.' he'll respect your wishes and let you go, but he won't give up.

heeseung watched you walk away from him with a heavy heart, wanting nothing but to just explain everything to you before it was too late. he couldn't lose you, not like this.

when he couldn't see your figure anymore, he messily messed his hair and made his way back to the gym eager to teach a guy how to not spit nonsense.

it's been a week since that happened and a week since he's seen you in the school. he asked some of your classmates and club members but all he received were nasty glares and short cold answers. what happened between the two of you spread like wild fire the following day you walked away from him. everyone knew you were kind of a nerd, but they also knew you were a complete angel and had a heart soft as a pillow.

they also knew that betting on a person's feeling isn't exactly it. — more under the cut!

so throughout that week too, his popularity decreased day by day. he used to receive heart eyes on the hallways and joyful 'good morning, heeseung!'s by random students, now all he received were judgemental glances and they avoided him like a plague, scared to be the next target of a cruel bet.

he didn't care though, all he cared about was your wellbeing. it's been a week and you've still yet to show up to class, so imagine his surprise when you suddenly walk in to the room with your usual hair do, your bag slung over on your shoulder and your glasses almost falling off your nose bridge.

he sat up straighter, gulping as his eyes followed your every move. he could feel hear heart beating louder, as if it was calling for you, desperate to be near you again.

he needed to fix this, asap.

it felt like forever before heeseung heard the bell ring. as soon as he heard the annoying sound, he messily packed up his things and ran after you.

"y/n!" your forearm was then again grabbed by him. although this time, he turned you slowly. heeseung silently admired your face. he missed you so much.

"let me explain, please. it's not what you think. i promise." he whispered, vulnerability in his tone. the simple nod you gave was his signal to interlace his fingers with yours as he looked for an empty room.

you ignored the looks everyone threw your way, either worried and judging. all you could focus on was his warm hand on yours and how you missed it so much, you didn't even realize you both were now inside an empty classroom.

"there was no bet." you furrowed your brows, looking at him with mixed confusion and frustration. "i promise, there was no bet."

"why would they say that then?"

"i don't know, but i promise there's no bet. throughout the months we've been together everything i've said was real." he said, desperate.

heeseung stepped closer.

"what i felt for you was real," he scrambled to get his phone from his pocket, opening his messages app. "you can go through my phone all you want, ask any of my friends-" you raised a brow.

"not those friends! i mean sunghoon, jay, jungwon.. you know." your raised brow made him sputter. "to be completely honest, they've been ignoring me after they heard about what happened.."

you looked at him hesitantly as you scrolled through his messages with shaking hands. you scrolled for so long, you even reached to the messages months before you both got together.

he didn't have any messages to his basketball team group chat unless it was announcements from his coach. the group chat with his actual friends were only filled with his pining over 'the girl on the back of his biology class.'

"heeseung.."

"there's no bet, baby. i'd never do that to anyone." he whispered, stepping closer. "i can't lose you like this.. i love you."

you sniffled as you came crashing on his chest, letting tears fall again. heeseung immediately wrapped his arms around you, sighing in relief as he finally have you back in his arms.

"i was so worried baby." he mumbled, kissing your head.

"i love you forever. i'll kill everyone who tries to get in between us again," heeseung pulled you closer if it was even possible.

"and if they do, i'll make sure to fix everything even if it means the whole world would hate me."

★ PARK JONGSEONG ( 1.0k wc )

jay was confused.

the both of you had a very well planned date tonight, so he was utterly puzzled to see that you weren't responding to his messages. for heaven's sake, you didn't even read his messages, he was just left in delivered.

he had tried calling multiple times but was only met with your automated voice telling him to leave a voice message. it came to the point that he had enough and decided to drive to your house.

throughout the drive, jay wondered what could've happened. he couldn't think of anything that would make you upset like this, he hoped that you just fell asleep and forgot to have your alarm on.

walking up the porch of your house, jay rang the doorbell and was met with your mom who opened the door with furrowed brows when she laid her eyes on him.

"good afternoon mrs. l/n, is y/n home?" your mother's frown deepened, hesitantly looking at the stairs behind her before looking back at him. "i'm sorry jay, she said she doesn't want to see you?"

that caused jay to furrow his brows as well. "wha- may i ask why?"

"i was hoping you'd tell me." if jay was confused a while ago, he was even more confused now and frustrated.

"can i see her, please?" he pleads, the older woman hesitantly opened the door wider to invite him in, and before he could ascend up the stairs, your mom stopped him.

"jay.." he looked back. "i don't know what happened to you both but take it easy on her, alright? she's been crying, i can tell." jay gulped and only nodded, sending your mom a pursed smile.

he knocked on your bedroom door, when no response came, he tried to turn the knob and was thankful that it wasn't locked.

jay slowly opened your door, seeing you curled on one corner of your bed as your body shook from your sobs you tried to keep silent.

he could feel his heart break at the sight. stepping a foot inside the room, he mentally cursed at himself when he accidentally bumped on to your mirror causing your head to shoot up in alarm at the sound.

your already glassy eyes was once again filled with tears as your eyes met his. jay barely dodged the pillow you threw at him, screaming at him to "go away and never show your face to me again."

jay frowned and came closer until he was sat on the edge of your bed, ignoring the words you just shouted at him.

"baby.. what's- what's wrong?" he asked, attempting to hold your hand but you retracted it and tried to throw another pillow at him. he swiftly caught it and brought it back down gently beside you.

"was it worth the one month of free car wash?" you spat through hiccups. jay stayed silent, confused.

"of course it probably was, that's what you do right?" the sight of your swollen and red face kept breaking his heart, he was still confused on what you were talking about but he'll let you talk.

this way he knew how he'd make things better.

"make me fall in love with you in exchange of a month's free of car wash.." you muttered, your eyes still boring on to his. at your words, it finally clicked. "..am i really worth just that much?" another sob.

right, he had forgotten to end the call when his 'friend' came barging into his apartment. you had probably heard all the nonsense the guy sputtered.. but surely you must've heard the way he defended your relationship and swore at that him too?

"i thought.. high school days were done jay. please just leave me alone now. you got what you want." jay shook his head, coming closer and pulling your body to his.

he wrapped his arms around you, his hand rubbing your back as you sobbed hard. he didn't try stopping you when he felt your weak punches that you threw at his chest, his own tears clouding his vision but he didn't dare make them fall.

"you got it all wrong, baby." he whispered, rubbing your nape as your face now rested against the crook of his neck. he ignored the wetness there. "i'm guessing you overheard the conversation with sungjae?"

you nodded, now calmer but not pulling away.

"did you also hear the way i told him to drop the stupid bet he kept insisting to happen? the way i kicked him out of my apartment?" you stayed silent, only sniffling as a response.

jay sighed, wrapping his arm around your waist tighter and pulling you closer.

"the whole campus knows sungjae's an asshole, baby. he was a jerk who thought that being a dick to others were entertaining, and i guess that's why i was like that back in high school.. i wanted to be accepted in their group."

"but we're in college now, i left that group but somehow sungjae's here and is pathetically still stuck in the past." he pulled your face from his neck, cupping your cheek and wiping away your tears.

"i've loved you since high school.. and there's no bet, baby. the moment he had found out i was dating you, he kept bringing up a bet about how long we would last.. but i always shut him out, told him to cut it out and that there will be no bet happening, especially if you're the one getting betted on."

new fresh tears come rolling down your cheek, this time they were tears of relief. glad to know that everything was real, that you weren't just a toy.

"you promise you'll cut him off starting now?" you whispered, looking at him with big glassy eyes.

"i've cut him since high school, y/n. it's him who's keep clinging to me. but i promise he won't be saying anything about the both of us anymore." jay pressed your foreheads together, pressing a soft peck on your lips.

"you will forever be the prettiest and the only one i'll ever love this much in this world, my baby."

★ SIM JAEYUN ( 0.5k wc )

jake watched you run away in confusion, staring at the laughing crowd and turning to look at your locker only to be met with the note he has been telling everyone to throw away.

he angrily took it from your locker, ripping the small paper into pieces. "how many times have i told you to cut this shit out? do you want me to report all of you for harassment and bullying?" he raised his voice at the crowd who had stopped their laughter.

"that's what i thought." he frowned, pushing past them and running after you.

jake knew what everyone was doing the moment it spread that he was dating you. he had received dms telling him he could do better and if he was merely toying with your feelings.

he had told them countless times to drop it, even going far as to almost punch the person who has created the bets if it wasn't for sunoo holding him back. he had hoped that it wouldn't reach you. it was another one of his reasons on why he always went to school earlier, just in case it was placed on your locker. unfortunately, you were earlier than him today.

it's not like he was tolerating it, he had tried countless times to report it but they'd only say it was probably only for fun and he shouldn't take jokes seriously.

but jokes were meant to be funny, right?

jake opened the door that lead to the rooftop slowly, peeking his head to look if you were there. to his luck, you were.

your back faced him while your bag was placed down carelessly beside your feet. jake approached slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you further.

"baby?" he mumbled loud enough for you to hear. you turned your head towards him, showing him your tear stained cheeks. "oh, y/n." he sighed and held your cheeks, wiping away the salty liquid off your precious face.

"jake.. why are you dating me, of all people?" you ask through tears, avoiding his eyes.

jake's eyes softened, he dated you because you were different from everyone who wanted to be like the everyone else, did that make sense? you were your own person, you didn't care about social status, wealth, his circle of friends, and whether someone was good looking or not. you were soft hearted, to the point that you had let others take advantage of that leading them to walking all over you.

and he hated that.

"why not you?" he said softly, tilting your chin up so that you could meet his eyes. "you're everything i've ever needed."

"you can tell the truth." you mutter, looking at jake. his mouth formed a pout, heart broken at the way you had so little love for yourself.

"i am telling the truth, baby." he whispers, taking your hands and placing them on his face before putting his own hands back on yours. "everything is a joke to them when i'm involved." you whisper, ignoring the way your voice broke.

"we don't care about what they think, they're all just jealous. everything we've been through and what i feel for you are real, no jokes." he smiled, pulling you closer to him.

"you promise?"

"baby i'd choose you over anyone in this world over and over again until the heavens above is tired of me."

★ PARK SUNGHOON (0.7k wc)

sunghoon frowned, confused and hurt. he wanted to fix whatever happened, so he took his phone from the couch and his car keys from the wooden bowl in his foyer.

it was when he was in the elevator that he noticed his phone was open. his breath hitched, finally knowing the reason for your departure and choice of words. sunghoon quickly left the group chat and started dialing your number.

it was true that you were a bet. were. he didn't even know why he agreed, maybe because he wanted so badly to fit in. he didn't want a repeat of middle school, so instead of being the bullied and made fun of, he was now the one doing those to others. he wasn't proud of it at the slightest.

that doesn't excuse his actions though. the longer he spent time with you, the deeper he fell. sunghoon never planned for you to find out this way, he already had a plan. first he had to get rid of his 'friends', tell you everything then ask you if you still wanted him to meet your parents.

guilt always ate him alive whenever you would stay over and sleep by his side. he couldn't bring himself to meet your family knowing he hasn't told you everything and the truth.

he felt like his heart would jump out of his chest as he stood infront of the door of your house. if he died tonight on the hands of either your father or older brother, he'd welcome death with open arms.

i deserve it.

he audibly gulped when the door opened, revealing.. you. the way your brows furrowed at the sight of him tightened his chest. he stopped you before you could even close the door on him.

"y/n please, let me explain everything.. o-okay?" the way his voice cracked and the unshed tears in his eyes almost made you give in, but upon remembering what you've read, the anger in you was back.

"explain what?" you spat, turning to look over your shoulder before back at him. "that all those months i've spent loving you," you pointed at him harshly. "was just for entertainment? tell me, what was in it for you, huh?"

sunghoon shook his head, the tears now flowing down his pale cheeks. "no, no! i promise, please i love you." he reached out but you stepped back, biting your lip as you held back the tears.

"just.. leave me alone sunghoon," he felt his heart crack even more. "you've had your fun, you can laugh about i all you want now." you were taken aback when he knelt infront of you, hugging your waist as he sobbed.

"what the-" sunghoon tightened his grip on you, muttering along the words of 'im sorry', 'never meant to be like this', and something along the lines of regretting something.

"sunghoon- oh my god." you groaned as you descended to face him. "please, i didn't mean to. i-" he hiccuped, "i'm sorry, i know it was stupid and there's no reason for me to accept the bet- but i just wanted to fit in. i wanted them to take me as a part of their circle- but, but i soon realized that it was stupid." he looked at you with swollen eyes, desperation swam in his dark irises.

"because i realized that hurting you isn't worth being a part of their asshole group. it started with a bet, i admit, but i truly love you, please believe me." a sob made its way out his throat as he clung into you, his arms circling your neck. "it wasn't a lie whenever i said i'd meet your parents, i was constantly trying to get rid of them first before i met your family, i didn't want to meet them until i've told you the complete truth."

your own tears descended down your cheeks, your heart hurting for yourself and sunghoon. you stayed on the floor wrapped around each other for a moment before you both helped each other up to your feet, he looked at you intensely with red bloodshot eyes. "i'm sorry, i understand if you don't want anything to do with me anymore."

"i understand hoon," you whispered, bringing your hands to cup his face. "but you have to understand too that i can't trust you fully right up again." he nodded, putting his own hands on yours as he kissed your palms.

"i know.. and i'll spent the rest of my life earning it again. i love you."

— ౨ৎ thank u for tuning in ! @j-jinxee @slp23 @unsurereader @heelovesmeknot @sunshine-skz @hoondrop @jooniesbears-blog @jordan1024 @heeswif3y @outroherrr @harufluff @cheeseball0 @yjwluver @woofie-nctzen-fanarts @itjengirl @emiliasstuffs-blog @isa942572 @lufcxx @alienqbrain @woniebae @baekxo07 @titttuaf @chuuswifereal @kyanmeai @isabellah29 @deezbin @skzenhalove @eneiyri @a4ruby @saxytalks @denleave1088 @imdelulu @powerpuffstuts @hoonatic @dollydigital @chososloverfr @dummyf @chanyeolchannie @oddracha @wonwushu @strawberrynull @ceciloveshee @loumin908 @cexg68 @grassbutneo @gardenwons @pag-yerin @bora04 @iluvnikism @jellymiki

— i couldn't tag those who's usernames aren't in bold :(

[liliacamethyst]

Webs of Fate - Miguel O'Hara (Part II)

Sequel to Web of Secrets

Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader

words: 5.2K

warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine, smut, time jumps, not really comic accurate (canon events), semi public piv, 18+

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

You are all back at the Spider-Verse Headquarters and the atmosphere is tense. Everyone is still high on adrenaline from the mission. You’re nursing a deep gash on your arm but your spirit is far from broken.

Miguel, however, seems to be on the verge of an explosion.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT OUT THERE SPIDER SUN?” he bursts out, his voice echoing through the HQ.

You're taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“That reckless behavior! You could have been killed!” he roars. “Why didn’t you retreat when you were injured?!”

“Because there were lives at stake! I can handle myself, Miguel!” you shout back.

“You think this is a game?! You think being part of this team is just for kicks?” Miguel’s face is red, his voice strained.

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare question my dedication!” you yell, your own anger now matching his.

The team is watching, shifting uncomfortably. Gwen looks at Jess, who shakes her head. The room is thick with tension.

Alright, if you are being honest with yourself, your recent actions in the field could definitely be classified as reckless. Perhaps even bordering on idiotic - not that you’d ever confess that in front of Miguel. You didn’t know where your mind went. Wait, no, scratch that. You knew precisely where your thoughts were, every mission since you discovered your pregnancy has been like this; your spider senses dulled, focus scattered to the wind, and reflexes that would’ve made a sloth proud.

And then there was this mission – your first one in quite a while alongside Miguel. He was bound to notice.

So you were fighting an Electro variant from an alternate universe, alongside Jess, Gwen, Ben and Miguel. The electric villain was throwing bolts of energy left and right and everyone was giving their all. You noticed a civilian trapped under some debris. You made a beeline for them, not thinking about anything else.

As you lifted the debris, an energy bolt flew straight for you. Usually, your Spider-Senses would have alerted you but not today. It hit you square in the back and sent you flying.

You hit a wall but ignored the pain as you scrambled back to your feet. A sharp ache spread across your arm but you gritted your teeth and kept fighting.

Miguel yelled, “What the hell are you doing?! Fall back!”

But you didn’t, you kept pushing forward.

He landed next to you, his eyes filled with anger and something else, maybe a hint of worry. He grabbed your waist to pull you back. But as another energy bolt was coming your way, you shoved him out of the path, taking the hit for the second time. So yeah, you could say that this mission wasn't exactly the shining star in your superhero career.

“ESTÚPIDA! So damn stupid. I won’t fucking watch someone throw their life away recklessly!” Miguel was now yelling loudly in oyur face for everyone in the HQ to hear.

“Oh, please. What’s it to you? Since when do you care, Miguel?!” you shout back, finally having enough of his insufferable attitude. “All this time, you’ve treated me like I’m dispensable. Like I don't matter! Well, guess what? I can fight, I can make decisions, and I don’t need you to approve them!”

“Don’t!” Miguel's voice cracks, and for a brief second, there’s a look of hurt on his face that surprises you. But his rage quickly replaces it. “I cannot do this anymore with you, ¿me entiendes?” he yells.

The room falls silent. Everyone’s gazes dart between you and Miguel. You can feel Gwen’s worried eyes on you, and Ben Riley. looks like he wants to intervene, but this moment is too charged.

You take a deep breath, tears welling up. “I can't do this anymore either,” you whisper.

“What?” Miguel's voice is barely audible.

“I can't keep fighting for a team where I’m not respected or trusted. Where you treat me constantly like a liability, like I am worth nothing to you,” you say, your voice steadier now.

“You don’t know what you are saying,” Miguel says, his tone slightly softening.

You turn around, your eyes welling up once again and open a portal to your universe. “I do, I quit” you say, your voice breaking.

You reach into your pocket and pull out your transdimensional gizmo, the small device that every Spider-person uses to travel across the multiverse. It's an intricate piece of technology, a blend of science and magic that fits in the palm of your hand.

You toss the device on the table in front of Miguel. It skids across the surface before coming to a stop right in front of him. He looks from the gizmo to you, his expression unreadable.

"Take it. We don’t need it anymore." You say defiantly, meeting his gaze.

Everyone knows the implication of you returning the gizmo. Without it, you're effectively stranded in your universe, unable to return to the society. This isn't a decision made lightly, it's a point of no return.

As you step through the portal, you glance back one last time. You see Miguel’s face, contorted in pain, but he doesn’t move, he doesn’t speak and he doesn't stop you.

Your heart is breaking, but you can’t stay here. Not when it’s this painful.

You turn away and head toward the portal room, with one hand lightly grazing your tummy. Gwen calls your name, but you don’t stop.

In the dim light of the room, the world seems to fade away as you lie there with Miguel on top of you. You are under him, breathless, your fingers running through his hair. His body pins you down in a tender, electrifying way, and you can feel the rhythm of his heart beating against yours.

His fangs graze the curve of your neck lightly, eliciting a shiver that runs through you. In response, he nuzzles into you, his breath warm against your skin.

"Ever think about what we're doing?" he asks in a whisper that vibrates against your neck.

"Constantly," you respond, your fingers tracing the curve of his broad shoulders, "but I don’t regret it, not a moment.”

He lifts his head, his red orbs searching yours. “Neither do I,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. His hand reaches up to trace the contour of your face.

"You know," you whisper, your hands continuing caressing his back, "I always wondered what it was like in your universe, in your time."

He shifts a little, propping himself up on one elbow as he looks down at you. His eyes, usually as unreadable, now seem to crack open; emotions swirl within them like stars.

"It was great, you know," his voice is gentle, each word enveloping you. "No, more than that – it was perfect," he corrects himself. His eyes never leave yours as he continues, "I had my Gabriella. Ah, you would have adored her." His voice softens to a mere whisper as if speaking her name too loudly might shatter the memory. "She was this incredible burst of life just like you. My own little sunshine. I didn’t know my heart could hold so much until she came into my life."

"The way she would throw her head back and laugh, it was like music. Her tiny hands – so soft and gentle. I remember how one of them always found mine, and the world felt... right." He continued, "I was never alone, never empty." He swallows hard, as if trying to keep the flood of emotions from washing over him.

You cup his cheek gently, smiling up at him. "You don't have to be alone, you know?"

He lets out a dry chuckle. “Sometimes it feels like there's no other option. It’s my fate."

“What scares you the most, Miguel?” you suddenly ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitates. “To lose myself… to forget what it means to care for someone,” he finally confesses.

“You won’t,” you assure him, your thumb stroking his cheek. “Not if you don’t let yourself.”

“¿y tú?” His voice is husky. “What’s your biggest fear?”

“To be forgotten,” you whisper.

He lowers himself and presses his forehead against yours. “Imposible,” he breathes. “You’re the sun. No one forgets the sun.”  He pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer until the world outside disappears.

Suddenly, his wrist console beeps, yanking him back to the present. "O’Hara, are you okay?" Lyla's voice echoes in the room, breaking the silence. He blinks, his gaze focusing on the holographic screen displaying the mission details in front of him. "Yeah, Lyla," he responds, his voice a bit hoarse. "Just remembered something," he murmurs, and refocuses on the screen before him.

Amidst the sea of codes and numbers, Miguel finds himself struggling to focus. His thoughts still are consumed by you, and a heavy realization crashes down upon him like a tidal wave - he’s lost you forever.

He always knew that this was how it was meant to be. This was the only logical conclusion, the inevitable outcome that he had tried so hard to deny. He was aware of the potential repercussions, the cosmic imbalance that could be brought about by your intertwining fates. 

Lyla had warned him multiple times, cautioned him against letting you close. But how could he have possibly resisted you? You, who shone brighter than the sun, who captured the hearts of everyone around with your aura and your kind soul. Your beauty was unparalleled, and your laughter had the power to fill a room, casting away shadows. He was a moth drawn to your flame, hopelessly captivated from the very first day he met you.

 But you were never meant to be his story, not the path his life was meant to tread. You belonged to another world, another universe.

"You're thinking about her, aren't you?" Lyla breaks the silence with her smooth, computerized voice. “No,” he interrupts her sharply, his voice a little too forceful.

But Lyla isn't easily deterred. "You know it was dangerous from the beginning, Miguel," Lyla continues. "Engaging with her like that...it could have caused irreparable damage to the multiverse."

"I know," he replies curtly.

Unyielding, Lyla continues, "This was never supposed to be a canon event. Her universe is not meant to mix with yours. It's fortunate that she left when she did. The damage could've been—"

“I KNOW!” Miguel suddenly erupts, his voice thundering through the room. He screams, his frustration boiling over, "¡Ya lo sé, Lyla! ¡Basta ya!" ("I already know, Lyla! Enough already!") With a loud grunt, he sweeps his arm across his desk, sending his keyboard, mug, and various other items crashing to the ground.

There is a deafening silence as Miguel breathes heavily, his chest heaving. His eyes are wide, his face is flushed and his fangs are bared. He never loses control, not like this.

Lyla, for once, remains silent.

3 months later…

Back in Nea Yorkey, Earth 586 , you are perched on the rooftop, absentmindedly rubbing your stomach. Time has passed since you left Nueva York and Miguel, but your feelings for him are still a tangled mess. Damn these pesky pregnancy hormones.

 For once, it’s pretty calm out there. No honking horns in traffic jams or the usual buzz of people everywhere. It’s like the city hit the pause button and honestly, it’s kind of nice. The streetlights are like tiny fairy lights all over, and the tall buildings around you feel like they’re keeping you company.

The cool breeze brushes against your face, and you can't help but be lost in your thoughts. Thoughts of him. The relentless flood of emotions is almost too much to handle.

The flashback hits you hard, placing you right back in Miguel's office late one evening. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, your backside planted firmly on his desk amidst strewn cables and metallic pieces and half-empty coffee mugs.

"Miguel, someone will catch us," you had warned, your breath hitching as he nipped at your skin, his hands deftly moving to undo your skintight suit. His hair was a little longer then, the ends tickling your forehead as he kissed you.

He had just chuckled, the sound deep and throaty, making your heart flutter. "They know better than to disturb me," he'd responded confidently, his lips trailing fiery kisses along your jawline.

Usually, Miguel was cautious about showing any sign of affection when others might be around, even if 'around' meant anywhere in the sprawling headquarters of the Spider Society. Yet, that night, he seemed to throw caution to the wind.

In his enclosed office, late into the evening, he let his guard down - a rarity. His lips were insistent against your skin, his touch setting you alight. You remember how the soft glow of the desk lamp had caught in his eyes, making them appear even more mesmerizing.

As he was holding your ass up steady and pounding into you, in a pace and fervor you never experienced before, you hear his communicator ring vibrating. You instinctively attempt to pull away, assuming he would answer the call, but he holds you tighter, his lips never leaving your skin.

His free hand pulls up a holographic screen,which flickered to life above the desk, revealing a slightly pixelated image of Jess. You panic for a moment, worried that she might see you in this intimate moment with Miguel, but he just shook his head slightly, reassuring you that she can't. He must have filtered the video feed on his end.

“Yes, Jess?” Miguel’s voice was steady, but his breath ghosted your neck in short spurts. He continued with his action, his thrusts a little slower but deep, nevertheless. You clamp your teeth down onto Miguel's shoulder in a desperate attempt to stifle the moans escaping your throat, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. You can barely contain yourself. Miguel's soft, amused chuckle vibrate through you as he wraps his arms around you protectively. Asshole.

“We’ve got an anomaly on Earth-4067, seems like a temporal rift,” Jess's voice came through the hologram.

“Have you tried the Q-particle stabilizer?” Miguel asks, his voice so casual it's almost disarming. His eyes meet yours, a playful glint in them.

“Yeah, but it didn’t work. The rift is actually growing,” Jess responds, the worry in her voice increasing. “What do you think we should do?”

“Alright, I want you to reconfigure the dimensional frequency to match the rift. Then patch the satellite feed through the Alchemax algorithm, reverse the temporal frequency by 4.7 hertz and use the resonance pulse to stabilize the rift,” Miguel articulates with authority as he continues to pick up his pace. You’re close to the edge, with the euphoria threatening to make you cry out. The sheer pleasure is now tinged with a faint edge of pain, and a wave of panic crashes over you. The thought of Jess possibly hearing you is nerve-wracking, and you’re now fighting to suppress your screams.

Your breathing becomes erratic as you whisper in a hoarse, needy voice, “Miguel, ‘m close."

"I know, mami. Come for me," he whispers back, his voice filled with a playful mischief that seems to defy the gravity of the situation. His hot breath against your ear sends shivers down your spine and the wave of pleasure crushes down on you.

“Miguel, are you sure about this? I mean, if something goes wrong…” Jess hesitates.

“I’m sure, Jess.” Thrust. “Do.” Another hard thrust. “it.” Miguel’s voice turns forceful.

“Okay, I trust you. But... are you alright? You sound kinda breathless,” Jess's suspicion returns.

“Oh, just...uh...running some diagnostics. It’s a bit stuffy in here,” Miguel replies with a smirk on his face, his fingers now gently brushing against your bare heated skin.

The rooftop is silent again, and you're still rubbing your belly, where the life you and Miguel created is growing. A bittersweet tear rolls down your cheek as you wish, not for the first time, that things could have been different.

You don’t know how long you are sitting there, taking in the city scene. But it was getting dark, when a familiar figure swings onto the rooftop. It's Gwen, carrying a small package in her hand. “Gwen? What brings you to Nea Yorkey?”

She walks up to you with a soft smile, "Do I need a reason to visit my favourite Spider-Ma? I've got something for you."

You raise an eyebrow as she hands you the package. As you unwrap it, you find a tiny Spider-Man hat, similar to the one Mayday usually wears. And to your surprise, there’s a tiny anarchy pin, attached to it.

"From the group," she says softly. She adds, pointing at the pin, "This bit here, that’s from Hobie." Of course it is.

You’re moved to tears as you hug the hat close. It's a simple gift, yet it means so much. You feel a lump in your throat, and Gwen steps forward, wrapping you in a warm, comforting hug.

"I...I miss all of you so much," you manage to whisper, your voice choked with emotion.

"We miss you too," Gwen replies, her voice equally soft.

You pull back, wiping your eyes. Gwen tries to lighten the mood, "So, any guesses on the gender? I bet it’s a boy."

You shrug, a small smile tugging at your lips, "I don't care what it's going to be. I just want them to be healthy."

Gwen grins, "Just remember, if it is a boy and he turns out to be a handful, you owe me a soda."

You both sit on the edge of the rooftop in a comfortable silence, legs swinging over the city, the conversation turns more serious.

"So," you venture, "how are things back at the Spider Society?"

Gwen’s expression turns contemplative. "It's been... strange since you left," she admits.

"Strange how?" you prod.

"Well, you know how Miguel was always a little on the, uh, grumpy side?" she says, making a grimace.

"You mean being a brooding fortress of doom and gloom?" you quip, and Gwen chuckles.

"Yeah, that. Well, he's gotten worse since you left. Like, way worse," Gwen's face turns somber as she continues. "He’s even more closed off than before. His temper’s shorter, he barely communicates, and he's been pushing everyone away. Miguel’s basically got everyone on lockdown. No unauthorized visits between universes. There’s this... I don’t know... this cloud hanging over him, you know?”

Your heart tightens as you take in her words. You had no idea that your departure had such an impact on him, or anyone for that matter.

“He doesn’t talk about it, but I think he misses you,” Gwen adds, looking directly into your eyes.

You are torn. Part of you wants to be angry at Miguel for how things went down, but another part aches for him.

Gwen nudges you. "Maybe he needs his sunshine back," she says with a gentle smile.

You sit in silence for a moment, the weight of Gwen’s words sinking in. “Don’t be silly. I was never his sunshine.”

4 months later…

Beneath the pale glow of hospital lights, pain and joy mingle in the delivery room. The grip you have on the sheets gets tighter as you push to usher your baby into the world. Your hair is sticking to your forehead, your breath comes in heaving gasps, exhaustion painting dark circles under your eyes.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, a portal flickers to life outside your window, and Gwen, Peter B., and Hobie emerge.

“Make way! The party has arrived!” Peter B. exclaims loudly.

“I don’t believe in parties.” Hobie says as he struts in, clad in his Spider suit with a leather jacket over it, pins and patches proudly displayed.

Gwen knocks at your door. The midwife, busy with you in the labor, answers.

“Uh, who are you?” the midwife asks, slightly agitated.

“We’re friends of hers,” Peter gestures towards you, “is it a good time?”

You hear their voices, but you cant muster up a response all you can do is scream and push.

“Blimey, I didn’t think it’d be like somethin’ outta Alien! You alright there, love?” Hobie’s eyes go wide, as he enters the room.

You can't help but laugh through the pain, "Oh, just peachy, thanks for asking."

Gwen steps forward, immediately grabbing your hand, her voice soothing, “Hey, you’re doing great. Is there anything we can do?”

“You could get Hobie out of here,” you jest, rolling your eyes, but your smile betrays your appreciation. Another loud scream follows.

“You got this, luv!” Hobie shouts. “Just imagine the bloody contractions as guitar riffs! You’re about to release the raddest album in history!”

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you hear the cries of your newborn baby.

“Congratulations, it's a boy!” the nurse announces, handing the baby to to you.

You can’t help but laugh. Gwen steps closer to the bed and takes a peek at the baby. Her eyes light up. “Told you, it’s a boy. He’s absolutely beautiful,” she whispers.

Hobie chimes in. “Alright, let’s get a proper look at the little bloke!” He leans in, and his face softens. "Oh, look at 'im!" Hobie exclaims in his thick British accent, peering at him. "Little blighter's a spitting image of 'is mum, ain't he?” No. You see it then, the dark eyes with a hint of red glow echo the intensity of his father's gaze, the dark chocolate hair and the sun kissed complexion. He looked undeniably just like Miguel. You cant help yourself but fall immediately in love with your and Miguel’s little boy.

As they prepare to leave, Gwen, Peter B., and Hobie each take turns holding Gabriel and whispering well-wishes to him. 

“I can’t thank you guys enough for being here,” you say, wiping away a tear.

Peter’s mask is off and he’s beaming. "We couldn't miss this for the multiverse!"

Gwen follows suit, "Yeah! Plus, Hobie wouldn't let us hear the end of it if we didn’t."

“We’re family,” Peter says firmly. “Across universes and timelines. We’re always here for each other.”

With that, the trio put on their masks and with another whoosh, they're gone.

1 year later...

One year has passed like a whirlwind. You've established a balance in your life. By day, you are a doting mother, and your world revolves around a little ball of energy named Gabriel. His laugh is the music that fuels your day, and his tiny hands holding yours make everything seem alright.

At night, though, you become someone else. Clad in a white suit adorned with golden sun patterns, you swing through the skyscrapers of Nea Yorkey as the Sun Spider. Your heart swells with pride, knowing that you’re keeping the streets and your little boy safe.

Your neighbor, Melissa, sometimes babysits Gabriel. She is a cheerful, quirky 19-year-old neighbor who dreams of becoming an Instagram influencer. You trust her (her career choice not so much) and, most importantly, Gabriel adores her.

Up until today, you believed that he hadn't inherited any powers. However, today was the first time he climbed up a wall and spun a web, without the aid of a web-slinger. It was the first time you witnessed him display such powers, and naturally, you were impressed. However, you also realized that being a mom would now involve dealing with a whole new set of challenges and responsibilities, making everyday life more exhausting than before. But you are up for the challenge;

Meanwhile, in the Spider Society’s HQ in Nueva York, Lyla’s holographic screen blinks red as she detects an anomaly in Earth 586 - your universe. She reports it to Miguel, who is still his grumpy self, seemingly even more irritable with each day passing.

“There’s a presence in Earth 586 that does not belong,” Lyla reports in her emotionless tone.

Miguel, sitting at his desk, sighs deeply. “Assemble the team. Pavitr, Lego Spider-Man, and... let’s bring in the newbie, Miles.”

Minutes later, the trio is briefed about the anomaly – a two-year-old child. They are to extract the child and bring it back.

Back in your universe, you're facing off against a notorious villain – The Shocker, who is on a rampage downtown. His high-frequency shock waves shake the very foundations of the buildings around you.

“Not tonight, Shocker,” you quip as you dodge a blast. “I’ve got a bedtime story to read!”

You're agile and sharp, but you can’t wait to get back home to Gabriel.

In your apartment, Melissa is on the couch, engrossed in her phone. She doesn't notice Pavitr slyly slipping into Gabriel's room. He can’t help but feel conflicted, seeing the innocent child asleep.

“This is the target?” Pavitr speaks in a hushed tone into his communicator. His voice is laced with doubt.

“Yes, proceed,” responds Miguel firmly.

Pavitr gently picks up Gabriel, cradling him in his arms. “Sorry, little guy,” he whispers and slips out.

Outside, they gather near the portal. Miles, who is visibly excited to be on his first mission, can sense the tension among the group.

“That was… too easy,” Pavitr murmurs, still holding the sleeping child.

Through the swirling portal, they make their way back to Nueva York.

Meanwhile, you web up The Shocker and leave him hanging for the police.

Back in the Spider Society's HQ in Nueva York, the team stands in a specialized containment room with the toddler still peacefully sleeping nestled in a makeshift bed of spider-web, completely oblivious to the attention he's attracting. One by one, members of the Spider Society trickle into the room, drawn by curiosity and concern.

Miles, who is new to the Spider Society, looks at the child with confusion. "I don't get it, what's so dangerous about a kid?" he asks.

Pavitr looks conflicted, “We have to determine where he came from and why he is considered an anomaly.”

Lego Spider-Man remains silent, trying to analyze the situation. He finally speaks up. "We should be cautious. Just because it's a child doesn't mean it's not potentially hazardous to the multiverse."

Miguel enters the room, his face cold and emotionless. He glances at the sleeping child, then at his team. “It doesn’t matter what it is. Anomalies threaten the balance of the multiverse. Every anomaly has to be returned to its home universe. That’s the rule.” he says sternly.

"But he's not an anomaly, boss," Jess adds, gazing fondly at the child. "He's a little boy."

Miguel’s gaze is unwavering, ignoring Jess. “Lyla? Whats the status?” 

Lyla's holographic form flickers into the room. "This entity possesses unknown powers," she declares, her voice ringing out with clinical detachment. "And according to my scans, it doesn't belong to any known universe. Therefore, it cannot be returned. It must be... eliminated."

Miles' eyes widen. “Wait, you mean…?” he can’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

Pavitr steps forward, his fists clenched. “We can’t just... There must be another way.”

Back in your universe, you swing closer to your apartment, but your spider-sense starts are tingling with a ferocity you’ve never experienced before. Your heart races, and you quicken your pace. Bursting through the window, you find Melissa still sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone.

"Where is he? Where’s Gabriel?!" you shout, panic straining your voice.

Melissa's eyes go wide as she looks up from her phone. "What? He's in his room, sleeping," she says, but her voice falters when she sees the terror on your face.

You rush into Gabriel's room and find the crib empty. Your knees buckle, and a guttural scream escapes your lips. The room spins as you run back to the living room, grabbing Melissa by the shoulders.

"Did anyone come in? Did you see anything?!" you practically scream at her.

“I... I didn’t see anyone. I swear!” Melissa's voice shakes.

Your heart feels like it's tearing apart. You look around the room, desperate for any clue. You need to find your son, and something deep within you tells you that the Spider Society is where you need to go. You have to find a way to travel through the multiverse without a gizmo and the time is ticking. You have to find your son.

Back in the HQ in the midst of the tension-filled room, Gwen stands up, "Miguel, you can't be serious," she pleads, disbelief resonating in her voice. "We can't just... kill a baby.”

Miguel's eyes narrow. "Sometimes tough decisions have to be made for the greater good.”

Just then, little Gabriel wakes up. His big eyes wander curiously around the room, and he starts to make happy babbling sounds. Unfazed by his surroundings, he looks at each of the Spider-People with fascination.

As Peter B. is about to reach down to pick Gabriel up, the toddler crawls quickly over to Miguel. His little face lights up with the purest of smiles and he reaches his tiny arms towards Miguel as if trying to give him a hug.

The room seems to collectively hold its breath. Even Miguel seems taken aback.

Pavitr can't help it, “He seems to have taken a liking to you, boss.”

Gwen smiles, her eyes watering up. “See? Even this innocent soul can sense there’s still good in you.”

Tiny fingers grip at the fabric of Miguel's suit, baby Gabriel coos and giggles as he clambers up the towering figure. Planting tiny baby kisses on any part of Miguel he can reach, the toddler's joyous laughter rings in the silent room. "Vete, Vete." Miguel mutters. And despite Miguel's cold exterior, Gabriel is unphased, drawn to him as though an invisible bond exists between them.

Miguel looks frustrated and uncomfortable with the baby's affection. He awkwardly picks Gabriel up at arm’s length. But the little one is relentless, trying to cuddle into Miguel’s chest.

Annoyed, Miguel places Gabriel into a containment field made of energy beams, to keep him in place. The baby, though restrained, is still reaching out to Miguel with his tiny hands, cooing.

The room goes quiet again, and Gwen speaks, her voice soft.

“Look at him, Miguel. Please. You can’t tell me that this doesn’t affect you in any way.”

Miguel's face is tense, his jaw clenched. His eyes dart between Gwen and Gabriel. All eyes are directed towards Miguel. The room feels like it’s waiting for something to shatter.

“We do what needs to be done, no exceptions.”

Part III "Web of Shadow and Light"

a/n: Honestly, I can't begin to express how much your support and kind messages mean to me. I literally started crying when I saw how much love this story received. It means the world to me. Truly, thank you. I'd love to hear your thoughts, and if someone could give me a heads-up on whether the tag list functioned properly, that would be great. Also, apologies for any inconsistencies or logical errors regarding the multiverse or canon theory. I watched the movie but I'm not 100% sure of that's how it works.

Once again, I really do appreciate each and everyone of you. Please, don’t forget to take good care of yourselves and stay hydrated! ILYSM

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[xomakara]

No Clue

SUMMARY |  You're in love with Jaehyun, your best friend, but he has no clue. You have suffered in silence as you have watched him date countless of girls left and right. Graduation is coming up, and you are running out of time to tell him how you feel. Will he finally see that it should have been you all along, or will he break your heart forever?

PAIRINGS | Jaehyun x Reader

GENRE/CONTENT/WARNINGS |  college!student!Jaehyun, college!student!Reader, college au, friends to lovers trope, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), fingering, dirty talk, oral sex (both male/female receiving/giving), praise kink, pet names

RATING |  Mature, NSFW, 18+

LENGTH |  11,927 words

TAGLIST | @yowmaman @yoursyuno @peqchypeqh @nctobsessedsstuff @thoughtfulqueenlady

@shiningnono @jaessunflower214 @tenleecth10 @beebxxu @niinjo

@carelessshootanonymous @peachytokki @100203shong @soheendo

NETWORKS | @k-vanity

AUTHOR’S NOTE |  Its finally done and I have finally returned! I think this is my dirtiest and filthiest NSFW work yet for NCT 👀. Thanks to everyone that has shown the preview much love so please show the finished work just as much love. Don't forget to like, comment, reblog and show some support. Love you all 💚

You sat in the coffee shop, tables away from your best friend as you watched him flirt with that pretty girl he met at the latest NCT frat party. It was another girl this week, but you still hoped. You hoped he would turn and look at you. You hoped that he would see that it should be you.

It was never you.

He laughed at something she said and you sipped your tea. The hot liquid scalded your throat but you barely registered the pain, your eyes on Jaehyun, your heart shattering every single time he smiled at her. He would never smile at you like that. He would never look at you with those soft brown eyes.

And yet you continued to sit in the corner, watching, hoping, praying for something you could never have.

You got up and walked past them, ignoring Jaehyun's questioning glance. Your head was down as you pushed open the door and stepped out into the hot summer air.

The walk back to your apartment was quiet. The heels you wore were a nuisance today, and you kicked them off halfway through the walk, your feet padding barefoot across the concrete. You could see a group of guys approaching and you sighed, picking up your pace. You didn’t want to have to talk to anyone.

The group stopped and turned towards you, calling out. You could hear their footsteps following and you bit back a curse.

“Y/N, seriously, are you listening to us?” One of the guys, Mark, said.

You slowed your pace and turned, plastering a smile on your face.

Mark stood before you, Taeyong, Johnny, and Haechan close behind. You knew them from high school. You had been friends, and you had always found them attractive. But nothing, nothing, compared to how you felt about Jaehyun.

Your eyes drifted to the ground.

“Who made our girl cry?” Taeyong asked, wrapping his arms around you. He could see through your fake smile.

You couldn't help but relax into him and rest your head on his shoulder. He rubbed your back gently.

The others came forward and touched you gently, Mark taking one of your hands, Johnny placing a hand on your head, and Haechan standing beside you and taking your other hand.

You didn’t want to cry anymore.

They held you for a while, silent. They had known for years about how you felt about Jaehyun. You couldn’t count the number of times you had called Taeyong, crying and begging him to come and hold you, the number of times Johnny had taken you for coffee or to the cinema, anything to get you out of your apartment and away from the sight of Jaehyun with someone else. Mark had sat up with you late at night, watching bad rom-coms and eating popcorn. Haechan had brought you a new book every single day since the start of university, and you knew that the reason you had done so well was because of him.

They helped you through your worst times. And here they were again.

You finally stepped back, looking up at them and wiping the last of the tears away.

“Another girl this time?” Haechan asked softly.

“The one Yuta introduced him to at the last frat party.” You sighed, running your hand through your hair. "I've got all dolled up today thinking that something was different, that maybe today would be the day when he suddenly asked to meet me at the coffee shop alone. But I guess it was to introduce me to whatever her name was."

The boys stayed silent.

"Why don't you just tell him how you feel?" Johnny asked quietly.

You shook your head.

"He doesn't need to know. I'm okay." You sighed. "Besides, no matter how much I wear pretty clothes or put on makeup, or wear these stupid heels like always...he never looks my way. He never sees me. I must be ugly or something, I don't know."

"You are beautiful. Any guy would be lucky to have you." Haechan whispered.

"You guys are the best." You smiled and kissed their cheeks.

"Why don't we have a movie night? We can get pizza and snacks and just chill." Johnny smiled, linking his arm with yours.

"Drinks included?" You asked, your heart a little lighter than it had been a few moments ago.

"Of course." Mark laughed.

"And popcorn, lots of it." Taeyong grinned.

You walked with them back to your apartment, smiling and laughing at their jokes, letting yourself relax and forget about Jaehyun, at least for a little while.

Haechan opened your front door, grinning.

"Let's get wasted!" He whooped, making a beeline to the cabinet where you had stored all your drinks.

"Get some glasses." Mark laughed, following the younger boy.

You and Johnny made your way into the living room and dropped down onto the couch. Taeyong came back from the kitchen with plates and napkins, placing them on the table and sitting beside you.

Haechan and Mark carried all the drinks and snacks to the table and sat on the floor, sorting out the snacks.

You smiled, grateful for the four men in front of you. You would have gone mad without them.

The night was going well, you were sitting between Taeyong and Johnny on the couch, leaning on Johnny and giggling as the film continued. Haechan was curled up on the other side of the couch, half asleep. Mark had disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a huge bowl of popcorn and settling on the floor next to Haechan.

Your phone buzzed and you frowned, looking down and seeing Jaehyun's name. You groaned and threw the phone to the other side of the couch, turning your attention back to the film.

"Don't you want to see what he wants?" Taeyong asked softly.

"Nope." You popped the 'p' and took another sip of your drink. "He can go fuck himself."

"He's texted you like a hundred times already." Haechan frowned, holding the phone out to you.

"So?"

"Y/N, just look. It could be important."

You groaned and snatched the phone from him, opening the messages and rolling your eyes.

Jae: Are you mad at me?

Jae: Seriously, you can't ignore me forever. Please reply. What the fuck did I do wrong? You are my best friend, talk to me.

Jae: This is not fucking funny. What is wrong with you?

"What's wrong with me?" You looked away from your phone, letting out a frustrated sigh as you passed your phone to Mark.

"You want me to reply?" Mark asked.

"Nope. Just turn off my phone. I don't care how many messages he leaves me." You got up, downing your drink. "I'm going to get more alcohol."

"You are going to regret this in the morning," Johnny called.

"At this point, I don't fucking care. I'm done with this. If he wants to date the whole world then that's up to him. Not my fault."

You stumbled into the kitchen and opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of vodka, poured a good amount into your cup, and made your way back to the guys. "I'll regret it later, but right now, I'm getting absolutely, fucking trashed."

The movie finished, and you had drunk more than enough alcohol to kill a horse.

You were lying on the couch, the others sitting around you.

"I don't want to be in love anymore. Why can't I stop?" You slurred, your eyes closed as you lay across the couch, your head on Johnny's lap and your feet in Haechan's.

"There will be someone else. Someone better." Johnny stroked your hair, smiling softly.

"I hope so. I really, fucking do." You sighed.

You were drunk, you were sad, and you cried a lot. But you were also tired.

And within minutes, you were asleep.

Jaehyun was worried. He had texted you and called you. His texts went unanswered, his calls went straight to voicemail, and everyone else who was with you wasn't answering his texts.

"What the fuck is going on with everyone tonight?" He muttered, throwing his phone onto his bed and falling onto the pillows.

He sighed, looking up at the ceiling and wondering why you wouldn't talk to him. He had seen you walk out of the cafe and had wondered why you hadn't waited for him, why you had left so quickly.

He had wanted to ask but had been distracted by the pretty girl who was sitting in front of him.

He couldn't deny that she was gorgeous and that he liked the way her dress clung to her figure.

But she wasn't you.

Jaehyun sighed and looked at his phone. The girl, Minah, had asked him out, and he had said yes.

She was the most recent in a long line of girls, all of whom had asked him out. He could barely remember their names. They were just something to occupy his time, something to fill the void in his chest when his mind drifted back to you. You, his beautiful best friend, who probably doesn't think of him as anything but a friend.

Jaehyun could imagine holding you, loving you, kissing you until your lips were red and swollen, only pulling away to pepper your skin in small, soft kisses that made you giggle. He wanted to be able to run his fingers through your hair and kiss the top of your head as he pulled you against him. He could see you wrapped up in his arms as the sun came up, your soft breaths against his skin, your fingertips gently dancing across his body.

He wanted to be with you, wanted you in his life, not these random, forgettable girls. But he didn't know how to tell you, and so he resigned himself to this half-life.

He grabbed his phone and called you again, but still, it rang and rang until finally the voicemail picked up. He didn’t bother leaving another message, knowing that you were deliberately not answering.

He knew that he should probably let you be, but the worry was building inside him. He was concerned. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

It was almost 2 am and you still hadn't replied to him.

Jaehyun stood up, his mind made up. He grabbed his keys, jacket, phone, and wallet, and made his way out of his apartment to head to yours.

He walked slowly, thinking about you, wondering what had happened that day. Had he done something wrong? Why had you left the coffee shop without him?

He reached your apartment, surprised that the lights were still on.

He knocked loudly, waiting impatiently for someone to answer the door.

After a moment, the door opened, and Mark stood in the doorway. "Hey, can't this wait? She's asleep."

"Is she okay?" Jaehyun tried to push past the shorter man, but Mark stopped him.

"Look, man, just go home. She doesn't want to talk to you." Mark sighed.

Jaehyun gave him a look. "Why the fuck not? I'm her best friend."

"Well, you have a fucking shitty way of showing it. Do you even know what you have put her through?" Johnny walked up behind Mark and glared at Jaehyun.

Jaehyun paused. "What are you talking about?"

"You are her best friend and you are so blind that you can't see what is right in front of your eyes." Johnny continued.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jaehyun furrowed his eyebrows.

"For fucks sake." Johnny sighed. "Go home, Jae. Leave her alone for now."

"Tell her I'll call her tomorrow. I'll be back to check on her." Jaehyun turned and walked away, his head full of confusion.

Mark and Johnny shared a look.

"This is getting out of hand," Mark muttered.

"It'll work out. Let's get back inside. She needs us."

They closed the door and walked back into the living room, the others glancing at them.

"Is he gone?" Haechan asked.

"Yeah, for now. But I don't know how much longer we can keep this up. If he doesn't realize how she feels soon, it will destroy her." Mark sighed.

Taeyong moved from his seat and sat on the floor next to Haechan. "How many girls has he been with now?" He asked.

"I've lost count. There was that girl at the party last week, the one with the green dress. He dated her for two days before he realized that she wasn't going to give him anything other than her time. Then there was that blonde girl, she was nice, and lasted a couple of weeks." Mark listed the girls that Jaehyun had brought around and introduced to you.

"How many of those girls did he fuck?" Haechan asked.

"Too many." Mark sighed.

"And she watches them all. She sits and listens to them talk about their dates and the things they've done, and she never says anything. She pretends to be happy for him, pretends that she is okay." Johnny looked over at your sleeping form.

"This needs to end." Haechan frowned. "Can't we just lock them in a room or something? Let them fuck it out or something? Surely it has to happen at some point."

"I'm with him." Taeyong looked at the rest of them.

"That...I guess that would work." Johnny nodded slowly.

"I could knock her out." Mark stood. "Give her something to drink, make it sweet or something... I could pick her up, put her somewhere..."

"No, Mark. No." Taeyong stopped him. "I'm pretty sure drugging her is illegal, even if you are doing it for a good cause. We don't need you getting arrested as well."

"Fine, fine." Mark threw his hands up and flopped down beside Haechan.

"Doesn't have to be drug-free," Haechan suggested.

"Again, Hae, not helping. We need Y/N and Jaehyun to be conscious if this is to go ahead." Johnny explained patiently.

"Yo, isn't the summer frat party coming up? We could lock them up in the laundry room since the door lock is broken?" Mark asked. “Like that shit won’t unlock from the inside.”

"Who knows what they could do then...no, wait. What if we kept them under a watch, like literally, all the time, until the frat party? At which point, we shove him in with her and she will have nowhere to escape to." Johnny sat up straight, eyes wide, an excited smile on his face.

"Okay. So far we have a plan to trap them at a frat party, and make sure they won't have any outside influences." Taeyong leaned back.

"Any other suggestions before we call this a success?" Johnny asked.

"Don't get caught," Haechan replied, grinning.

"Don't. Get. Caught." The others nodded.

Over the next few weeks, the boys slowly came up with a plan to trap you and Jaehyun together. It took a lot more thinking than anyone had believed it would, and twice they had had to start the plan over after realizing the flaws.

But the day was approaching fast, the day of the Frat Party. The annual summer frat party was known for one thing – anything and everything was up for grabs. There were no rules. People would sit in the quiet corners of rooms and kiss strangers, get blind drunk, dance the night away, or pass out on a soft surface. Anything goes.

It was the perfect place to begin the trap.

By the end of the week, everyone knew it would be the night you and Jaehyun got together. There were only a few more hurdles to jump, and the boys would finally let the cat out of the bag.

Your friendship group was also quite big, and your respective friendship groups always did make sure that you were as drunk or as happy or as horny as the other was, at least.

So this meant that you, as usual, and for the last few years, were at this frat party with them, on a weekend and dressed to impress.

And impressed you had, Jaehyun thought to himself, watching you flit in between friends with your drink. He knew that you were going to be here at this party, even if you were avoiding him for reasons unknown to him. He hoped to catch a chance to speak to you about this. He missed his best friend.

It took a lot longer than he thought to get an opportunity to corner you. And he saw that there was always one of the guys, usually either Haechan or Taeyong, with you. Almost like they knew he was looking to speak with you.

Johnny and Mark appeared at Jaehyun's side, slapping him on the back.

"Going to make a move tonight?" Johnny grinned. "Time to cash in and score."

"Cute, man. How old are you, 18?" Jaehyun raised a brow.

"Dude, it's the summer party where nothing is off-limits. Rules don't exist. Do whatever, whoever. Catch a big one." Johnny pointed in the general direction of all the college students around.

"You seem excited for some reason." Jaehyun narrowed his eyes.

"Why not be?" Mark asked with an easy smile, looking as if he didn't have a single worry in the world. "Look at all the hot ass around. It's not that big of a deal."

Jaehyun huffed before sipping his beer from the can. "Sure, maybe I'll land on someone." 

He sighed and looked for you across the sea of people. He saw you giggling with your friends, obviously slightly tipsy. His heart thudded loudly at the sight of you in an all-too-short silver skirt that barely covered the curve of your ass, a lace bodysuit that barely covered your ample breasts, and stiletto heels that showed off your long and lean legs beautifully. It took him a minute to pull his gaze back to Mark and Johnny, both of them with huge shit-eating grins.

Johnny and Mark noticed his wandering eyes looking at you, and they glanced at one another before giving each other a knowing nod. Mark raises an eyebrow as Johnny nearly spits out the beer he is drinking when he finally spots you in the crowd.

"Fuck, dude!" He exclaims and smacks Jaehyun's arm. "When did Y/N look this hot? I know we’re friends but damn. She outdid herself tonight."

Jaehyun gives Johnny a sideways glance at the fact that he had the audacity to be hitting on his best friend. He moves to get up and find you, a little annoyed that his friends are getting their eyes on you.

"Man, I bet she's looking for something in particular tonight, why not get first?" Mark whistles and gives Johnny a fist pump. 

Jaehyun hears this comment and gives him a strange look, then raises a brow in thought as to Mark's remark. He tries to shrug it off and heads off towards where you were last seen by him. Jaehyun fights his way through the throng of college students trying to dance but fails to see you again and assumes you have found another of your friends to hang around with.

"Did Jaehyun finally have the guts to approach her?" Taeyong asks Johnny from the corner of the house.

Mark let out a laugh. "Johnny made Jae think that he was interested in Y/N." He laughs harder. "Taeyong, your boy was about ready to fight Johnny."

"Hey, anything for him to make a move." He murmurs and he watches Jaehyun search the room for you.

As Johnny, Taeyong, and Mark snicker from their corner and watch the unfolding scene, Jaehyun turns, looking almost irritated as he attempts to catch up with his best friend. He makes a silent promise that the next guy who tries to hit on you is going down.

You are none the wiser to Jaehyun trying to search for you or the scheming your friends have done as you were chatting with Yuta, Jeno, and Jungwoo. The four of you are laughing as you chatter with drinks in hand and have fun.

"We're sure this will work, guys?" Haechan checks on Taeyong, Johnny, and Mark while drinking his third cup of beer. "There's only a handful of us left who can help and make sure Jaehyun or Y/N doesn't sneak out early."

"Oh this better fucking work or I swear to god, we will just use a megaphone and let everyone know they are in love with each other." Taeyong growls and rubs the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Just make sure no one comes to the laundry room, alright guys?" Johnny finalizes and all the boys give a nod.

Suddenly, the house turns silent when the DJ  lowers the volume. Jaehyun is surprised he can hear his thoughts, but then the main host, or frat house leader, Doyoung announces. "Okay, party-goers, as you all are aware, the party rules for the night apply! Nothing is forbidden, let yourself be free and open, and no boundaries because what happens here, stays here! This means that you, your friends, and whatever partners you end up with can do as you like, go wherever you like, however many you like, but please make sure safety precautions are used! If you're sober, come and volunteer to drive your partners and friends safely home once it ends. Enjoy the party, and party till the sun rises!"

The house erupts in a sea of applause.

Most of the party attendees grab someone and immediately find a spot for themselves in some rooms or leave for the night to continue elsewhere.

You're flirting with an attractive boy you don't know. His arms are wrapped around your waist as you subtly flirt with him, giggling at whatever stupid thing is leaving his mouth.

Jaehyun is at the other side of the room drinking beer from a red solo cup, looking at you with a frown. He can't keep his eyes off of you, which pisses him off, as you won't even reply to his texts. And the whole not texting back doesn't make him as angry as this boy who is a bit too close to you. You're practically pressed against him, his hand on your waist, and you are whispering things he can't hear into his ear. He tries to shake his jealousy off but his eyes never leave you, and then the unknown boy turns and presses his lips to yours. Your eyes flutter closed, and your fingers grip the boy's hair and jacket.

Jaehyun lets the cup drop out of his hand and makes his way over to you. He puts his hand in the boy's face and pushes him away.

"Dude, what's your problem?" The boy frowns and steps towards him, pushing him lightly.

"She's my fucking problem. Don't touch her. Fuck off. She isn't interested." Jaehyun growls. The boy rolls his eyes, looks over his shoulder at you, and storms off.

"Jae, what the fuck is your problem?" You glare at him, pulling him so your bodies are flush against each other. Jaehyun stares down at you, trying to control his erratic heartbeat.

"Him. Kissing you. That's my problem."

"What are you talking about? I was just talking with him. I didn't know he would kiss me." You sigh, running your fingers through your hair.

"Were you going to let him? Did you want him to?" Jaehyun growled. “You looked like you were enjoying it.”

"Does that matter? Would it even make a difference?" You said as you stepped in front of the laundry room and tilted your head back to him.

"You don't answer my calls anymore. You ignore my texts." Jaehyun murmured, walking close behind you.

"And why would that matter? You've got loads of pretty girls to entertain yourself with, Jaehyun." Your tone was mocking, and bitter, and Jaehyun noticed.

"Where is this coming from? Is that why you have been ignoring me lately?" He said, getting annoyed.

"So what if it is? It doesn't matter anymore, Jaehyun. It's obvious that your eyes are already set on your next prize." You walked into the laundry room, trying to find someplace quiet. 

To get away from him.

The room, unlike the rest of the house, had no loud music playing, no thumping bass, just the soft buzzing sound of the washer and dryer machines, and the party could no longer be heard through the walls. The music was almost like white noise now. You knew Jaehyun had followed you into the room, you could feel the warmth radiate off of him. His body heat so close behind you. He was about to speak when you both heard the door slammed shut, locking from the outside.

"You've gotta be shitting me." Jaehyun groaned, yanking at the door handle. 

You rushed to the door and twisted the lock, only to find it refused to budge. "They still didn't fix the damn door lock? Really?"

"Hey! Who is it? Open the fucking door." Jaehyun slammed his fist at the wooden frame, frowning as it did not budge an inch.

He pressed his forehead to the door and swore loudly.

"Jaehyun, it's no use. You could break your hands before it opens." You tugged on his sleeve. "We may as well wait it out." 

You sighed and went to go sit on the floor, your back against the machines. Jaehyun sank beside you on the floor, leaning his back against the machine and rubbing a hand down his face, mumbling profanities. You tuck your knees up, wrapping your arms around your legs. Jaehyun couldn't help but look down at you, his gaze drinking you in.

The lace bodysuit that hugged your breasts and accentuated all your curves, the short skirt that showed your naked legs. Your hair was out and around your shoulders. You had on makeup, not that you needed any, you always were breathtaking even in a hoodie and sweatpants. But the smokey makeup and red lipstick – that was new. And the stiletto heels on your feet only lengthened your toned legs further. You never did anything half-assed when it came to your appearance. Always dressed for the occasion, even if the occasion was a damn frat party where no rules applied.

He was enraptured by your beauty.

He always was.

Jaehyun struggled now more than before not to keep his thoughts innocent and out of the gutter. Especially now as you were sitting by his side so close, it took all the willpower inside him to not keep his dirty thoughts at bay and not throw himself at you and take advantage of the situation.

"Where’s your phone, Jae?" You murmured. “Mines dead. Forgot to charge it.”

Jaehyun patted down his pockets, looking for his cell phone, then remembered he had placed it in the back pocket of his pants. He scrambled to get it out of his pocket and opened his messages, only to see one new message from Johnny.

Johnny: Get a fucking move on, man. We are NOT letting you out until you two hook up.

So, that answered his unanswered question, and Jaehyun frowned, his eyebrows lowering, glaring daggers at the phone. He fidgeted as he typed the message back, telling Johnny and the boys to let you both the fuck out and sent it.

Johnny: No can do. Take this time to bond and grow as people and then finally FUCK like rabbits.

Before Jaehyun could type out an answer, you plucked his phone out of his hands and stared at the screen before letting out a soft laugh.

"I should have figured they were going to do this. So, we're stuck here for the time being." You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I guess I can't avoid you after all."

"Are you going to tell me why you've been avoiding me? Did I do something?" Jaehyun sighed.

Your hands gripped your thighs, fingers pressing down hard, as you struggled not to throw your arms around his neck and pull his lips to yours. To show him exactly how you felt.

"It's complicated, Jae." You began, leaning your head against the washing machine behind you and staring at the wall. You were silent for a few moments, taking deep, slow breaths in and out as Jaehyun let you collect your thoughts and form the right words. "I...just. I can't pretend. I can't do it anymore. It's taking its toll on me and I can't hide it from you. Not when we've been best friends since childhood. Not when you know how to read my fucking moods."

Jaehyun cupped your jaw, making you look at him. "Are you okay? If something is wrong-"

"I'm not okay! Of course, I'm not fucking okay." You snapped, running a frustrated hand through your hair. "Not when I have to see girls hanging all over you, draping themselves over you, giggling every time you flirt, or when they kiss you. How do you think it is for me? To watch someone I...I...shit. Someone I care so much about, be with someone else? It's eating me alive inside, Jaehyun."

You didn't miss his wide-eyed reaction, his sharp intake of breath, or how he tried to read the expression on your face.

"What are you getting at, exactly?" Jaehyun asked, tilting his head.

"God, you are infuriating. Do I have to spell this out to you?" You roll your eyes and push yourself up to stand and begin pacing, the heels of your shoes clicking across the linoleum-tiled floor, and he watches you pace, agitated. Jaehyun grabs your hand and pulls you to him. Your stiletto heels are wobbling a bit and his other hand grips your hip to steady you. His gaze holds yours and doesn't waver and you notice there is a flicker in his dark, hooded eyes that sends a chill through your spine.

"Do you like me?" Jaehyun finally breathes, holding your gaze intently, searching for confirmation. He doesn't let go of you.

"What would you do if I said yes?" You are playing a dangerous game and you know it. The air between you crackles with tension and you swear you feel his pulse increase with the closeness of your body to his. Your lips are inches apart.

You have always wondered how his mouth would feel on yours and it drives you wild with thoughts.

A fire flickers and spreads through your veins when you look up at him and see the way his eyes darken with want when he gazes down at you. His breath is shallow and uneven. He swallows, thick and heavy and your eyes drop to his lips. Your tongue darts out to wet your own, and Jaehyun's mouth parts.

The tip of Jaehyun's tongue is faintly pink and you want nothing more than for him to lift his chin and press his lips to your parted pouted ones, but the courage you mustered seconds ago is suddenly gone and you try to step back from him. You're met with a wall of machines. You aren't sure if you were to try and push past him if you would have even made a single movement to escape. Your chest is still rising and falling at a rapid, uneven rate, and you realize that maybe there is an underlying truth about the house's saying: anything is a free game tonight.

"Do you like me, Y/N?" He asks again, his hands on either side of your body, trapping you between the washers and his arms. He leans towards you and cages you in, and his knee slips between yours.

You couldn't think clearly, not with the smell of Jaehyun invading your senses. His cologne was driving you insane. You grip his shirt between your fingers and lower yourself onto his knee. It feels good and you aren't sure whether it's because you haven't had sex in months or if it was his muscular leg that fits so perfectly between yours.

"Answer me, Y/N." His lips are next to your ear, voice low, breathing hot. It causes a whimper to spill from your mouth. The way Jaehyun's words made your insides feel...fuck. "Please, I need to know."

The please almost shattered any sense of will you might have possessed to hold yourself together. "I - I -"

"Yes?" Jaehyun leaned impossibly closer to you, so close you could taste his scent.

"Jaehyun," your tone is quiet and uncertain. You are frightened of the possibility of losing your lifelong friendship. Of losing Jaehyun. Of not having him. Not like that anyway. "I -"

Before you can say anything else, he closes the distance between the both of you, and you don't hesitate for a second. His hand sinks into the flesh of your hips, pulling you flush against him, your lips sealing perfectly. Your tongue reaches and touches his, licking softly into his mouth. His other hand grips your cheeks with his large fingers as he pushes his tongue deeper into your mouth. It's hot and fiery and he explores every part of your mouth as he devours you in a passionate kiss. It leaves you breathless.

You have kissed many men in your life.

However, none could ever make your toes curl the same way he did. None of them had you begging for more, willing to give up the fight you had been so diligently putting up the past few weeks just to be with him. You cling to his chest, your nails digging into his white T-shirt as your teeth bite on his bottom lip softly.

He moans.

Your core clenches at the sound, and you can't deny the small rush of pride that runs down your spine.

Fuck, it turns you on.

You grab his shoulders for support, his hands roaming around your ass. He squeezes and you gasp, kissing his neck as you roll your hips over the firmness of his knee. The warmth between your legs pooling.

"Is this what you want? Is that it? Is this what's been bothering you the past few weeks?"

Your fingers curl tighter around his T-shirt, and you cling to him, not allowing yourself to step away and let him go. You are losing your breath as he presses you into the metal and it sends a wave of heat coursing through your body.

"Jaehyun," you whined in protest, arching and shivering in his hold.

"Do you like me?” He wanted you to beg. “No, do you love me?”

"Yes," you whimpered as you kissed the hollow of his neck and sucked the sensitive area of skin. Jaehyun's skin was soft and salty on your tongue. Your actions ignited Jaehyun. “I love you so much.”

"I fucking love you, too." He growled, pushing his knee between your legs harder and his other hand cupped the back of your neck, drawing your head back. His teeth found the smooth column of your neck and bit softly.

The next moment, Jaehyun is pushing your body against the washer, kissing your neck and your fingers are dragging your nails up and down his biceps, and then he lifts you, throwing one arm underneath the bend in your knees. Your skirts are riding up on the back of your thighs. The next moment you are sitting up on top of the large washer with Jaehyun between your knees, your bare legs wrapped around his hips as his mouth ravages yours, drawing another lustful moan out of you.

You are convinced at that moment that you've found your perfect person.

Your bodies flush and chests heave in rhythm together. You break your lips from his and trail your kiss-bitten lips down his jaw and lick his neck, tugging at the hem of his T-shirt, desperate to feel his bare skin. His lips brush yours once again, his tongue flicking inside your parted mouth and eliciting another soft gasp from you.

You loved it and it sent warmth straight to your core.

Suddenly, as Jaehyun is ravishing you, the door to the laundry room swings open and you both find Johnny leaning against the door frame. Mark, Taeyong, and Haechan hovering in the doorway. Johnny smirks as Mark and Taeyong cover Haechans' young eyes, the youngest exclaiming that he’s seen worse before.

"You've got to be shitting me." Jaehyun voiced through his teeth and snarled at them, his brows furrowed, his cheeks flushed.

"Oh, don't stop on our account, we're not even here. Just pretend we aren't, continue doing what you're doing." Johnny smirked, his hand reaching for his phone.

"God, I'm so embarrassed," You buried your head in Jaehyun's chest, trying to hide your flushed cheeks and lips, swollen from kissing.

Jaehyun ran a hand down his face and let out a frustrated breath. He turned to you, his hands framing your face. "Y/N, look at me."

You raised your gaze, his eyes darkened with lust. "Don't ever hide from me."

"But, Jae, they are -"

"Ignore them." He cut you off, his thumb brushing over your plump lips. You nodded, leaning forward and pressed your lips to his. He kisses you, his hands cupping your cheeks, his fingers caressing the soft skin and his touch left your whole body on fire.

You were sure that you had a dumb smile on your face, and the butterflies in your stomach were having a party of their own. You didn't even have a care in the world as he held you close to him.

"Yo, it's like they forgot we're here." Mark's voice brought you back to reality.

"Took you both long enough to finally make a move. We should have locked them in here a long time ago." Johnny chortled, still leaning on the doorframe, Haechan snickering. "Have a fun time."

"We'll leave the door open if ya'll wanna get out, but we can't promise you the house will be free of horny folks fucking each other," Taeyong adds before walking away with an amused smile. The boys follow behind.

You let out a small laugh as you watched your friends walk away. You cupped Jaehyun's cheek, looking into his eyes. "As much as I love laundry... I'd love to finish what we started at my place."

He lets out a small chuckle before lifting you once again and setting you back on your feet, his large hands rubbing up and down your bare legs. Grabbing his hand, you entwine your fingers as you pull him out of the laundry room and out of the house. Not stopping for anyone who tried to approach and greet the two of you, not interested in small talk, just wanting to get as quickly to your apartment to be with Jaehyun without interruption or unwanted attention.

Your apartment is about a ten-minute walk from the frat house but it felt like an eternity because of the handsome man next to you. Jaehyun couldn't seem to keep his hands off you the entire walk. Running his fingers up and down the smooth and warm skin of your arm, shoulder, or down the dip of your spine where the zipper of your bodysuit began, slowly running his fingers back up as he brushed a loose tendril of hair from your face. 

You trembled as his large, warm palm curled around your hip and pressed a palm flat to your stomach to keep your pace matched with his as the two of you rounded a corner and walked towards your place. He would drop kisses to your shoulder every so often, as your giggling and playful swatting only encouraged him further and only made him want you more.

"Stop, Jae," You whined softly, pressing your lips together as Jaehyun lowered himself close to your ear and bit down gently.

"Don't you enjoy this?" Jaehyun is burning for you. Every time your fingers make contact with him, he becomes a puddle in your hands. Your touch is hypnotizing, and he finds his desires overwhelming his logic.

"I love it," you moaned in frustration and arousal. "But can't you wait until we get to my place?"

"I'd rather fuck you right now," His dark hooded eyes had you frozen in your spot. "Up against the building."

"I'd love that..." You clung to his arm and looked up at him with pleading eyes. "But I want our first time together to be more than against the brick walls. Please?"

You have no idea how much power you have over him. You look at him with your big, bright eyes that glisten. Your cute nose and supple, glistening lips, the soft voice, and the small hand that grabs his hand to entwine your fingers and pull him with you, eager to get him to the front door of your apartment and to the bed where the two of you would not come out from for the rest of the night.

"Fuck, princess." He says before lifting you and throwing you over his shoulder, smirking at the high-pitched yelp you let out and running the rest of the block to get you to your apartment. You were giggling the entire way, slapping at his firm, muscular shoulder. "I still think the idea of fucking you outside, pressed up against the wall, and showing you how badly I want you is great, but you've left me no choice, princess. You asked, and I shall give."

You bite your lip to stifle the whine that escapes your throat when he says how badly he wants you, but a faint noise comes through regardless.

"So pretty, Princess," he coos as he keys in your door code. Once inside, he deposits you by your sofa. He is on you in an instant, kissing the breath from your lungs and filling you with his touch and his scent as his hands and his body blanket yours, caressing your back, making your blood simmer with need. You are holding on to him and grabbing at the collar of his white T-shirt to pull him closer to your needy, wanting, burning body. You kiss him back with hunger. A desperation and a relief to finally show him your affections and wants.

He groans into your mouth and gives you a little bite as his fingers curl on the back of your neck. He breaks the kiss and looks into your eyes. Your faces are inches apart, and he grasps your wrists. He has such large hands. It does things to you. Especially when it's cupping your neck or wrapped around the tops of your thighs. You whimper a bit when his hand tightens, holding you firmly as he places the other on your cheek. You can't think of anything besides Jaehyun as he crushes his mouth back against yours, his tongue exploring every inch, exploring and teasing. Your heart thumps at a steady pace, matching the pulsing throb between your legs.

"I want you, please." You whimper softly. "All of you."

Jaehyun palms himself. God, your begging was like honey to him, so thick and so sweet. You were going to drive him insane and he is going to enjoy every minute of it.

"Fuck Y/N, if that isn't the hottest thing," Jaehyun growls lowly, voice raspy, taking another taste of you, moaning quietly against your lips.

Your fingers grasp at the back of his neck, tugging gently at his hair. You are ravenous. Greedily searching Jaehyun out with your hands, trying to tug his shirt from the waist of his jeans. His fingers tangle with yours, halting your movements and giving you no room to argue or attempt to make an opening into his boxers. "Patience, love."

Love.

What? Did he call you 'love'?

"Yes, I did," He grinned, wide and white. It was as he was reading your mind. "Now shut up and let me give you the best night of your life, princess."

Fuck.

The nickname was doing things to your insides, making your core throb and clench with want. Your body thrums and tingles to the tips of your fingers, all the way down to your toes. His knee is back between your legs and you cannot control yourself as you rock back and forth against his thigh.

He huffed a breath, trying desperately to maintain any ounce of self-control that he still possessed. "If I held you up and had your arms and legs around my shoulders and fucked your tight little pussy, what do you think of that, princess? Or would you like it better if I pinned your arms behind you and bent you over your couch or spread you out on your bed and feast on your beautiful, plump pussy?"

"God Jae, you're going to kill me," You mewl and beg as Jaehyun's teeth glide against the tendons that connect your throat to your jawline. You tremble and whimper and grind against him, seeking more friction and the promise of relief and pleasure and the feeling of Jaehyun finally fucking you hard and long. 

He had always been your best friend, someone you would joke and goof around with in the daylight, and at night he was the one you fantasized about when your fingers ran between the apex of your legs and worked you until your sheets were drenched with your release, and your pussy was sensitive to the point of sensitivity and your mind clouded with erotic visions of him and only him.

"You're not wearing anything underneath that bodysuit are you, princess? Tell me," Jaehyun can't resist asking. His cock twitches painfully in his jeans at your deepening blush and the way you avoid his eye when you answer. He wants so badly to slip his fingers between the swell of your ass and rub your wet slit. God, he can picture it. You are dripping all over and so ready for him and his cock. He grunts into your hair, nuzzling it.

"You're not supposed...oh god, Jae...wear anything under a bodysuit." You let out in between pants as he managed to get your skirt off of your body and throw it somewhere in your living room.

Jaehyun sucks on the tender patch of skin near your jaw, the curve of your jaw meeting the flesh of your throat and drawing out a strained and breathy sound.

He lowers himself down on the floor, taking one of your legs and draping it over his shoulder. He spreads your thighs open as he pops open the buttons to the closure of your bodysuit, running the tip of his nose against the area. You breathe harder, shaky. He presses his teeth into the inside of your thigh as he watches you squirm under him.

You aren't wearing anything underneath.

It's a fucking sight.

"You weren't lying." He breathes against your thigh, looking up at you from his spot on the floor. It makes your body flush when you see his head between your legs. God, it's turning you on. He's not even done anything yet and your pussy is clenching and pulsating with want. "Fuck, princess. You're trying to kill me tonight, aren't you? Do you know how bad I want to taste you? Please tell me you're aching for me to taste you. I can't wait any longer. Tell me. I want to hear you beg, baby."

His eyes are filled with hunger, the desire to tease, torture, and claim as they stare right back into yours, dark and delicious. They leave you a gasping mess.

"Please, Jaehyun. I've been dying for you to touch me. I need it. I need you."

"There it is," Jaehyun growls, pressing his fingers harder into your thigh and spreading you open wider, his mouth latching onto your swollen folds, sucking and licking. He doesn't take his eyes off you as he swirls his tongue around your clit and then sucks it. He moans, relishing the way your body responds. Your fingers curl into his hair. He hums and chuckles, "You taste fucking amazing."

You whimper, throwing your head back as his tongue flicks up and down the length of your slit. Your chest rises and falls at a quickening pace, unable to control the sounds leaving your mouth.

"I knew it. I just fucking knew it," Jaehyun is talking against the lips of your cunt, his voice muffled as he eats you out like a starved man. "So sweet and responsive. God, you're fucking delicious, princess."

You are panting and grinding your hips down to meet his mouth, riding his tongue as he curls it inside you.

"God Jaehyun, keep going. Don't stop." Your voice is breathy and hoarse.

"As you wish, princess," Jaehyun says before diving back in, lapping up your juices.

The noises coming from you and him are obscene. The wet sound of his tongue thrusting inside you and your pussy clenching around his tongue has you trembling and shaking and crying out, begging for more.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," Jaehyun rasped as he slipped a finger in, watching as your head tilted back, mouth opened wide and letting out a loud gasp. He was curling his finger and licking at your clit. The way his tongue flicked the sensitive bundle of nerves, had you shaking and begging. "Tell me you want more, Princess. Tell me how badly you want me to fill you up."

"Yes. Fuck yes," you whined as he pumped his finger and added a second one. He was scissoring them and stretching you out.

"Do you think I can fit another finger inside?"

You shook your head, "No, too much."

"Too much?" Jaehyun teased as his free hand came up and pinched at your nipples, still confined in the bodysuit. "I bet I can, baby. You're already so full with two fingers."

"I can't...take any more, Jaehyun." You whine as Jaehyun pumps his fingers faster, the pads of his fingers stroking and rubbing against the spot that had you seeing stars. "God, Jae. It's too much. Too good."

"You're not cumming yet, baby. We're not finished here." Jaehyun growled, adding a third finger and spreading you wide. His eyes locked on to yours as he lowered his head once more and latched his lips onto your clit, sucking and licking.

He has the power to unravel you, and you have never wanted him more.

"That's it. God, look at how well you're taking my fingers. Fucking perfect."

Jaehyun is fucking you with his fingers now. You can't stop the moans that spill from your lips.

"Fuck, I love hearing those pretty little noises you make. Such a good girl. So good."

"Jae, fuck. Jaehyun, I-I-"

"I want you to come on my tongue and fingers. Let go for me, princess."

Jaehyun's thumb pressed and rubbed against your clit, the pressure building. It was becoming too much. His tongue thrusting in and out of you, the wet slurping sounds he made, and the words he breathed against your sex as he lapped you up were pushing you over the edge.

Your walls clenched tightly around his fingers as his tongue flicked your sensitive nub.

"Fuck, baby, you're close. Let go."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," You cried out, and Jaehyun chuckled.

"That's right, princess. Come on my tongue, give it to me."

He was relentless and was pushing you further and further. The pleasure was intense, and you could no longer hold it in.

"Fuck, Jae. Please, please, please, I can't," You screamed.

"You can, and you will, princess." He says, voice deep and commanding.

And you did.

You’re sobbing and trembling as he works his fingers and tongue against your clit, and a rush of fluid spills out of you, covering his face and dripping down his chin. Your fingers are tugging his hair and the way his eyes meet yours and the smug grin he has on his face as he continues to lap at your juices and suck them dry, is almost enough to send you over the edge again.

Jaehyun is pulling back, wiping his mouth, and licking his fingers clean. "You came so beautifully for me, princess. Such a good girl."

"Shut up," You mumble, hiding your face behind your arm.

He chuckles and moves up, lifting the arm from your face and kissing your lips.

"It's just the two of us now, baby," He whispers against your mouth. "No need to be embarrassed. Just me and you."

"I don't think I can go again," You pout, looking up at him. "It's too much, Jaehyun."

"Not even a little bit, Y/N? Not even if I beg you? Plead with you?" He's pressing his lips against your neck and trailing wet kisses down your collarbone. "Please, princess."

"Jae," You moan softly as his fingers begin to tease and circle your nipple.

"Let me, baby. I promise I'll take care of you."

"Fine," You whisper, biting back a moan as he pushes the bodysuit up and off your body so that you are finally naked. "But you need to get naked too. It's not fair if I'm the only one."

Jaehyun's smile is soft and he leans down and pecks your lips before moving back and tugging his shirt over his head, revealing his muscular torso. He smirks and unbuckles his belt and slides his jeans and boxers down, tossing them behind him. He's standing there, fully naked, and you are sitting up on the couch and taking him in.

"Well, I guess now we're both naked." He's standing there, and he's stroking his cock and biting his lip.

You bite your lip, taking in his body. His thick, long, throbbing cock. Your eyes were wide as you whispered, "God, Jae. You're fucking huge."

"Don't worry, princess," He winks. "I'll take good care of you."

You roll your eyes, but you are blushing, and you are so turned on. You want to reach out and wrap your hands around his cock, stroking him and taking him in. Your pussy clenches and throbs. You are still sensitive from earlier, and his fingers are sliding up and down your slit, collecting your arousal, and you are whimpering.

"What do you say, princess? Wanna try and take all of me?" He's stroking himself, his dark eyes hooded and watching your face as you squirm. "Or would you rather have me lay you back and fuck you slowly?"

"Anything," You pant, desperate to have him, to feel him inside you. "God, anything."

Jaehyun smiles, and it's so fucking sexy. His eyes are hooded, and his tongue peeks out, swiping across his bottom lip, and it's like you are seeing him in a completely different light. He's no longer the guy who cracks jokes, the guy you laugh and giggle with, and the guy who always puts others before himself. He's no longer just Jaehyun.

He's a man. A beautiful, sexy, and handsome man. And he wants you.

Jaehyun picks you up and walks towards your bedroom, your arms and legs wrapped around him.

"Do you have condoms, baby?" He whispers.

"I didn't get any. I didn't think I was going to get laid tonight." You chuckle, burying your face into the crook of his neck. "But I am on birth control...so you have full permission to make a mess of me."

Jaehyun grins. "Are you sure, Y/N?"

"Yes." You breathe out. "God, yes."

He sets you down on the edge of the bed and takes a few steps back. He's watching you, his eyes never leaving yours. He's biting his lip, and he's still holding his cock in his hand.

"Come here," You whisper, reaching out.

Jaehyun walks closer and stands in front of you.

You lean forward, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock and taking him in. He's large and heavy on your tongue. You're so fucking turned on, and you can't help but moan around him. You've never sucked a dick this big, and you have a feeling it won't be the last time either.

"Fuck," Jaehyun hisses. "I knew your mouth would feel amazing, baby."

Your hands are holding his hips, and you pull back. You swirl your tongue around the tip, before sliding your mouth back down.

"Oh shit," Jaehyun groans, and his hands find their way into your hair.

You can't help the soft moan that escapes you. You want to be good for him. You want to show him how much you care about him, how much you care about his pleasure, his happiness, his satisfaction.

He's so big. It's almost too much, and the way he's fucking into your mouth, you know he's close. You can feel it. He's breathing hard, and his grip on your hair tightens.

"Baby, I'm gonna come." He pants.

You suck harder, and you are determined to have him come undone. You want to watch him come. You want to see the look on his face when he releases, the sound of his voice as he groans out your name. You want it all.

"I'm so close." He moans. "God, you're gonna make me come. Fuck, fuck."

His fingers grip tighter, and his hips buck forward.

"Y/N," Jaehyun choked. His release is warm and thick, and it tastes sweet. It's almost addictive, and you're swallowing everything he has to give you.

"That's it," He's whispering, stroking your hair. "Such a good girl."

You lick the tip of his cock, and his whole body shudders.

"Oh god, baby," He moans.

You are pulling back, licking your lips, and smiling.

Jaehyun's hand moves down and wraps around the base of his cock, pumping slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Fuck, I need to be in you. Now." Jaehyun whispers, his voice deep and raspy.

You nod, and he is moving on top of you, pushing you further back on the bed. His hand is between your legs, and his fingers are dipping into your core. He's coating his fingers and palm in your juices, and he's dragging it up and down the length of his cock, hissing.

"God, baby, I'm dying to feel your pussy."

"Then stop talking and fuck me."

Jaehyun bites his bottom lip and presses his lips to yours, his tongue sliding past them, and tangling with yours. He moans, and you moan into his mouth. His cock is pressing against your entrance, and he's rubbing the tip back and forth, coating it with your arousal.

"Fuck," You cry out, and he's pushing the head of his cock in, stretching you out.

"You're so tight, baby." He breathes, and his forehead is pressed to yours, and his eyes are closed, and his jaw is clenched. You're whimpering and trembling, and you're digging your nails into his back, and it's making him grunt and groan. He's halfway in, and he's panting, and his breathing is ragged. "So fucking good, princess. God, your pussy feels like heaven."

"Please, Jae. Please," You whimper.

"You're so pretty when you beg, baby. You sound so desperate. So needy. So, fucking perfect." Jaehyun begins rocking his hips, his cock sliding further inside you. "I'm going to ruin you for everyone else, baby. I'm going to ruin this pretty pussy for anyone else. It's mine. I'm not going to share. I'm gonna take care of it."

"Jaehyun," You moan.

"I'm serious. This pussy is mine. Only mine." Jaehyun is completely sheathed inside you, and his words have your cunt clenching around his cock.

"Fuck," He hisses.

"God, Jae. You're so big. So deep." You moan.

"And you're taking it so well, princess." Jaehyun starts at a steady pace, thrusting in and out, and your nails are digging deeper into his skin. "I'm so proud of you, baby."

"Thank you," You whine, arching your back, and Jaehyun's hands move up and down your sides, his palms squeezing and caressing your tits.

"So, so, so pretty." Jaehyun's voice is thick with lust. He's fucking into you hard, and his thumb is circling your nipple. "I could stay like this forever, baby. With my cock buried deep inside your pussy. You're so fucking tight, and your cunt feels so good, baby. I could fuck you forever."

"Yes, Jaehyun. Oh, god."

"You're so wet, and so, so, so fucking perfect, princess. I could get addicted to your body, and the way your pussy squeezes around my cock."

You are moaning and whimpering, and the words Jaehyun is saying, they're driving you crazy. You don't want him to ever stop, and you are afraid that when this is over, things will change between the two of you.

"You feel so fucking amazing, princess." Jaehyun is moaning and breathing heavily. His face is buried into your neck, and his lips are pressed against your skin. His hands are cupping your breasts, and his hips are grinding down against yours. "Fuck, Y/N."

You are both panting and sweating. Your bodies are moving together in a rhythm that has you both moaning and panting, and your pussy is clenching tightly around his cock, and the wetness that's pooling around your entrance, dripping onto the sheets.

Jaehyun is grunting and hissing as he pounds into you. "I can't stop, baby."

"Me either," You whimper, and Jaehyun pulls away, and he's flipping you over. You’re now on all fours, and his fingers are digging into your ass cheeks.

"Fuck," He hisses.

"Jaehyun, please." You whine, and he's pushing his cock back inside you, and he's fucking you hard and fast, his pelvis slamming against your ass.

"So fucking tight." He's gripping your hips, and his fingers are digging into your flesh. "Take it, princess."

"Yes, oh, yes." You are crying out, and your head is thrown back, and the sounds of the slapping of skin, and the moans that are leaving both of your lips, are almost too much.

"Look at you, taking my cock like a good girl. I'd bet you want to cream all over my cock, don't you, baby?" Jaehyun is grunting, and his breathing is ragged, and you can tell that he's getting close.

"Jaehyun, fuck," You cry out.

"Yeah, I bet you do." Jaehyun is panting, and his thrusts are becoming more erratic. "You're going to cream all over my cock. I'm gonna make a mess out of your pretty little pussy."

You are whimpering and moaning, and the way he's pounding into you, his pelvis slapping against your ass, and the sounds he's making, have you ready to explode.

"Tell me, princess," He pants. "Tell me how much you love the way my cock feels. Tell me how much you love the way I fill you up, and stretch you out. Tell me how good I feel."

"Fuck, Jae," You cry out.

"I'm waiting, princess."

"Fuck, Jae. You feel so good. Your cock is so big, and it's stretching me out. It's making a mess of my pussy, and I can't help but cream all over your cock."

"Fuck, that's it, princess."

"Jaehyun, please. Fuck, don't stop."

"Never, princess."

You have never thought that this would ever happen, you and Jaehyun. You were happy being just friends, and the feelings you had for him were always pushed to the side. You didn't want to lose him as a friend, and so you suffered in silence, pining over him, and wanting him so badly.

But now, right now, in this moment, he is yours, and he is making love to you, and telling you that he has always wanted you and that he wants to be with you. And you are feeling so many emotions. You are so overwhelmed. It is a dream come true.

Jaehyun is panting, and his cock is twitching inside of you, and you are close to the edge. Your body is trembling, and your toes are curling, and your pussy is clenching tightly around his cock as he slides in and out of you.

"Fuck," You pant. "I'm close."

"Me too, princess." He is panting and grunting, and he's slamming into you, and the sound of his hips slapping against your ass echoes through the room.

"Fuck," Jaehyun moans.

"Come on, baby," You whimper. "Fill me up, Jaehyun. Give me everything that you have."

"Yeah, I'm gonna fill your pretty little pussy up. I'm gonna fill it with my cum. You want that, princess?"

"Yes," You are gasping. "I want your cum, Jae. Please. Fill my pussy up."

"Yeah, I'm gonna paint those walls of your pussy with my cum. And then, I'm gonna pull out, and you're gonna be leaking with my cum."

"Fuck, Jaehyun."

"You're going to be a mess."

"Jae," You are whimpering.

"Your pussy is gonna be leaking with my cum. You're gonna smell like me, and everyone is gonna know you're mine."

"Yes, Jaehyun. I'm yours. I've always been yours."

"Oh, god, fuck. Y/N." Jaehyun groans and his hips continue to slam against yours. "You're so good, baby. So, so good."

"Fuck!" You are whimpering and your toes are curling, and it is the most intense orgasm you have ever had. Your whole body is shaking, and you are coming undone, and Jaehyun is fucking you through it, and his fingers are digging into your hips.

"Yeah, princess. Come all over my cock." Jaehyun is groaning and his voice is thick and deep. "You feel so fucking good."

Jaehyun's body is trembling, and his fingers are digging into your hips, and his cock is twitching. His breath is ragged, and his moans are loud and low. Jaehyun is spilling his release inside of you, his warm, sticky, seed filling up your core.

You are both panting, and the room is filled with the scent of sex and sweat, the sound of your breathing, and the sounds of the sheets rustling as your bodies move together. You feel your arms losing their strength but Jaehyun's arm quickly wraps around your waist.

"I got you, princess." He breathes.

You are exhausted, and you want to close your eyes, and you can feel his hand gently rubbing your lower back.

"Hey, hey, don't fall asleep on me. Stay awake." Jaehyun chuckles.

"Jae, I'm so fucking tired."

"I know, princess, but we still have to clean you up, okay? Can you stand up for me?"

"Yes, Jaehyun," You whisper.

"Good girl," Jaehyun whispers. "Come on, I'm going to help you."

He is holding onto you, and he's guiding you towards the bathroom.

"I'll run a bath." Jaehyun is pulling away, and his fingers are brushing against your cheek.

"You don't have to do that, Jae. You can just take a shower. We can clean up together." You smile, and his fingers are tracing the shape of your jaw.

"Baby, I'm trying to be sweet. I want to take care of you." Jaehyun smiles and kisses the tip of your nose.

You can't help but blush. "I know, Jae. I just don't want you to think that you have to go above and beyond."

"Trust me, princess, I don't mind. Now, let's get in the tub."

You can feel the butterflies in your stomach, and the smile on your face, and you're pretty sure you're glowing.

The bath is warm, and the water is nice and soothing, and it's making you sleepy. You want to lean back and rest your head on Jaehyun's chest, but you know that if you do that, you're going to fall asleep.

"Hey, no sleeping." Jaehyun laughs. "You can sleep once I get you in bed, okay?"

"I can't promise anything." You chuckle.

"How about I wash your hair, and then we'll go to bed, hmm?"

"Fine," You laugh.

You have to admit, the feeling of Jaehyun's fingers massaging your scalp, and washing your hair, feels amazing. It makes you even more relaxed. Jaehyun is wrapping his arms around you, and he's kissing the back of your neck.

"How do you feel?" He asks, his lips brushing against your skin. “I didn’t hurt your or anything, did I?”

“You didn’t hurt me at all.” You shook your head. “I felt good. Really, really good.”

"You should feel really good. That was amazing."

You smile and rest your head on his shoulder. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," You giggle.

"Baby, you have no idea."

"So, what does this mean for us?" You ask, fingers entwined with his.

"What do you want it to mean, princess?" Jaehyun asks in a deep voice.

"I want this to be real. I want you to be mine, Jae." You confess, your heart racing.

"Good, because that's exactly what I want, too. I've wanted it for a long time. I was just scared." Jaehyun says.

"Scared of what?" You ask.

"Scared that you'd say no," Jaehyun says.

"Why would I say no?"

"Because, Y/N, I'm not good for you. I'm not the guy who deserves you. I'm a mess, and I'm fucked up, and I'm not good enough for you." Jaehyun confesses.

"You're good enough for me, Jae." You assure him.

"Baby, no I'm not." Jaehyun shakes his head.

"Yes, you are." You tell him.

"Y/N, I've been in love with you for a while, and I've been terrified of telling you because I was afraid that you'd reject me. That's why I see other girls. It's to try and forget about how much I love you. But, it's impossible. You're the only girl I see." Jaehyun says.

"I guess we're both idiots, huh?" You laugh. "Here I was thinking that you only date other girls because you only saw me as a friend, and here you are, telling me that you've been in love with me the whole time."

"We really are idiots, huh?" Jaehyun chuckles.

“You know I love you right?” You turn your head and look at him.

Jaehyun looks down at you. "I love you, too."

You have never seen a more sincere smile, and the look in his eyes tells you that he means every word.

He loves you, and you love him.

And it feels like the most wonderful thing in the world.

"So, where do we go from here, Jae?" You ask.

"Well… I'd love to take you out on a date and we can start from there…" Jaehyun says, his hands gently rubbing your shoulders. "Granted that we already had mind-blowing sex, and we're taking a bath together, I think we're kind of past that stage."

You can't help but laugh.

"I'd love to go on a date with you, Jaehyun." You kissed him.

Jaehyun cups your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks, and his lips are soft against yours. His tongue is slowly sliding into your mouth, and his teeth are gently biting down on your lower lip.

You moan into his mouth, and your hands are grabbing at his hair.

"Y/N," Jaehyun mumbles.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think you can handle a second round?" Jaehyun asks, and his hand is sliding down your back.

"What do you mean?" You ask.

"I'm saying, baby, I want you. Again. Right now." Jaehyun grins.

"I don't think my legs can handle a second round, Jae." You laugh.

"That's okay, baby, we can just stay in the bath." Jaehyun chuckles, and he's lifting your hips and placing you on his lap, sliding into you. "I'll do all the work. How does that sound, princess?"

"You're insatiable, Jaehyun." You giggle, and you're cupping his face, kissing him and he's kissing you back.

"You have no idea, baby."

[lyrefromthesea]

Please could I request all the hashira being in denial that they have a crush on hashira!reader. I hope you’re having a wonderful day 💙💙💙

Male pillars x Reader - Denial is a thing

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: none

type 1 - i don't have enough time for romance, meaning it doesn't exist.

he is the type of person who is fully obligated to his duty. saving people and taking care of others has gotten natural to him.

the demon slayers of lower rank have come to trust him, look up to him, he couldn't disappoint them. he knew how it was to be scared, now he needed to take away the fear others felt.

naturally, he didn't understand why he found his attention shift, suddenly not thinking of his mission anymore.

yet nothing was different, he got a mission assigned, another slayer joined him, you both tried to defeat the demon.

that's right, you.

you were different, you were the thought occupying his mind. he thought it was fine at first, but when he got distracted during the fight, he realized just how severe the connection to you could be.

he would try to keep your relationship professional, strictly related to work, but he couldn't stop himself from learning more about you while you took care of his wounds.

...Gyomei, Rengoku

type 2 - i don't even know what happened, this can't be true.

this was stupid, utterly and absolutely stupid. in no world was it possible for him to fall in love with you.

..right?

you were a nice person, someone he could rely on. fear was evident on your face when the situation got severe, but you pushed through, because you wanted to save the people around you - even him.

he didn't understand, you weren't a hashira, yet you fought with the same determination. he tried to understand, listened to your explanation.

"i can't rely on you just because you're strong, the people who chose this life decided to fight until it's over."

he felt his heart throb right at that moment, heartbeat speeding up drastically. never in his life had he heard another person talk like this.

yes, he couldn't understand how this happened.. or maybe he just didn't want to.

...Obanai, Tengen

type 3 - i will never love again, otherwise i'll lose you too.

what makes him special is not the fact that he's denying his feelings for you, it's how he copes with it.

he wasn't stupid, of course he realized something was different when he felt his cheeks flush or how he accidentally stuttered when he tried to talk to you.

the realization hit him like a brick, immediately excusing himself, trying to never talk to you again.

he knew how this would go. he fell in love with you, he stayed by your side and like everyone else, you'll be taking away from him. it's always that way. it'll always be that way.

it's not like he couldn't stay away, he was used to being alone. other people didn't necessarily talk to him, he would just go back to his old life.

only that it was much harder this time. how come he would always run into you? not only that, but somehow he got paired up on missions with you too.

he cursed himself, nothing about this worked like he had wanted it to.

and when you silently brushed your hand against his, eventually bringing yourself to interlock your hands, he knew he had ultimately failed to stay way.

not that he cared a few months later, when he could wake up to your sleeping body next to his.

...Sanemi, Giyuu

[reiderwriter]

🧺 Any More 🧺

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Requested: spencer realizing that he’ll never love someone as much as he loves you. (whether that be because of a case or what have you), his mind is absolutely blown with how much he worships you and how much you love and care for him and he shows you that with the softest most sickeningly sweet sex you and him has ever done. <3

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! Discussions of case details, case burnout, very close friends to lovers, oral (f receiving), vanilla sex (p in v penetration). Discussions of mental health, and two idiots in love.

A/N: I'm hitting the prompt Vanilla for this one, so please don't be scared off by the KinkBingo tags! I had a lot of fun writing this one (and adding Pride and Prejudice quotes into the smut scene because HELLO). Let me know what you think in the replies~♡

Masterlist || Bingo Board

You hadn't seen Spencer in 100 days. Which in the grand scheme of things wasn't that long, trapped in the purgatory of a ‘what if’ the way you had been for the last eight years. 

You'd lived without him for longer than 100 days before. He'd been in prison, you'd been on assignments, you'd lived an entire life before meeting him, but now somehow 100 days was too much time, and you were exhausted. You understood why Spencer had to take some time away from you, from the team in an official capacity after everything he'd been through. You supported him even. 

But when even your free time didn't overlap anymore, you wondered if your relationship would ever be the same again. 

Spencer was a friend, your best friend, probably. You'd arrived on the BAU team, he'd rattled off some statistics, stammering the way through them, and you'd immediately warmed to the man. He was brilliant, funny, and fiercely loyal, and you tried your best to protect him even when the job seemed designed to break people like him into thousands of little pieces. 

You'd tried to convince him to leave before, after Maeve had died. You didn't want to see him heart broken again, but no one else had seemed to agree. 

“Reid needs purpose,” they'd said. “Reid needs something to do.” 

What Reid needed was to not end up dead before he had a chance to be happy, and happiness didn't come often in your field of work. 

You'd been almost vindicated a year later when he'd been shot again, almost fatally. Vindicated, maybe but distraught and inconsolable. Morgan had to carry you screaming and clawing out of his hospital room multiple times. It sounded stupid enough to yourself that it was only then you realized your feelings for the man. 

You wanted to be Spencer Reid's happiness, which was why you were so lost without him. 

He was coming back on Monday, and at least you had the weekend to sort your feelings out about everything.not just about him, but about the job you'd found didn't fit you well enough anymore, about the team you loved like family, about the relationship you knew would likely never come to fruition. 

You dumped your bags at your door when you'd arrived in your house that night, pushed yourself into your bedroom and let yourself collapse on your bed, balling up into as cozy a position as you could. You didn't even bother taking your jacket off, you just let your brain haze over and sleep rush in. 

Three quiet raps at your door lifted you up and out of bed again, not an hour later. 

You grabbed your phone, grabbed the second go-bag you kept at your house, put your shoes back on, and opened the door, expecting Emily and a new case. 

“Where are we going?” You said, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, not even looking up at your guest. 

“Hopefully, nowhere? I brought takeout.” 

Your eyes widened then, taking in all 185cm of Doctor Spencer Reid, tweed jacket and plastic bag full of chow mein included. 

“Spencer,” you breathed out, like a sigh of relief, letting the bag drop to the floor next to the first one and letting yourself into his arms. 

He held you carefully there for a second before leading you back into the apartment, wrapping an arm around you and ruffling your hair. It was brotherly, and it made you sick to your stomach. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Emily said you were back from a case,” he started, unpacking the takeaway from the containers. “And it feels wrong to eat this without you.” 

You rolled your eyes and followed him into the kitchen, pulling two forks out of the drawer nearer you and stabbing them in the top of your two cups. 

“Hey, I can use chopsticks now,” he said, defending himself against an inside joke. Spencer was always useless with his hands. 

“I don't care if you can use them, I care that they don't accidentally end up stabbing me,” you said, taking yourself back to your bedroom, Spencer following. 

“You'd hardly die from being stabbed by a wooden chopstick, maybe a papercut or a splinter but-” 

“But you're just bad enough that I don't want to risk it.” 

You kicked off your shoes again and climbed onto your bed. Spencer followed. 

“Remind me again why we aren't sitting on your couch?” 

“Uncomfortable.” 

“Or at your breakfast bar?” 

“Glorified filing cabinet right now. Eat.” 

He shook his head but complied, leaning back against your pillows as you both began carefully eating. Silently, you pulled your laptop onto your bed, opened it up, and pressed play on a movie, one you'd seen more than once, and you'd forced Spencer to watch before as well. 

In a comfortable, friendly silence, you finished your food. You stretched out in a yawn once and then curled into his side, letting his mumbling voice, repeating the movie lines as they were spoken, lull you softly into sleep. 

Spencer knew he had to leave, but he couldn't bring himself to wake you. The movie had finished hours ago, he'd closed the laptop and turned off the bug lights, but he couldn't leave. 

Unlike you, he hadn't counted the days that you'd been apart. He hadn't needed to. He knew you'd be waiting there for him when he returned, knew you'd give him a smile and a pat on the back, and immediately start bouncing ideas off of him. It was what he loved about you. 

As he laid next to you in your bed, a place he'd absolutely been before, his heart thumped. Just once, but hard. 

Even in sleep, you looked exhausted. Your shirt was crumpled, hair a mess, you were still wearing makeup, and he knew he'd probably get an earful for letting you sleep like that in the morning. You were a mess, and he still wanted you. 

The thought came to him suddenly, another painful thump of his chest echoing in his mind. He rubbed absent mindedly at his chest as if experiencing heartburn. In the dim light of the room, he let his head drop to the pillow and wrapped two shaky arms around you and pulled you in closer. 

The two of you were a picture - both in suits, both with badges still somewhere on your person, both dearly clinging to the person they feared losing the most. 

When you woke the next morning, it was actually the afternoon. 

“Spencer,” you groaned, melting under the heat of his embrace. Somehow, during the night, he'd rolled on top of you, pressing you into the bed with a delightful pressure, head nuzzled into your neck, arms tucked around your waist. 

“Spencer, we should get up,” you said again, forcing your eyelids apart as your mascara tried to glue them together. 

“Mmmmhh,” he groaned, moving to pick himself up off you for a minute but lowering himself again. If asked, he'd blame your hand in his hair, stroking the rogue curls gently, as if he were a prized pet and you their carer. 

“Spencer, its 2pm.” 

“On a Saturday.” You laughed at how pouty his voice sounded, but he complied and rolled off of you slightly, arms still wrapped around you. 

“Come on. Get up. I've got some clothes that might fit you, let's get you out of the tweed.” 

He huffed but nodded and lifted himself halfway to upright, eyes still closed lazily as he let in the light millimetre by millimetre. 

“God, my face feels horrible,” you said, itching at your nose. “How did we even sleep so long like this? My belt is still on, Spencer, my belt.” 

“If you were still wearing a weapon, then I'd be worried,” he smiled. 

You shot him a sarcastic look and finally detangled yourself, only to clasp his hands and pull him forward as well, letting him trail you to your closet. 

“Here, change in the bathroom,” he nodded and walked away, following directions with eyes still closed, as if it were really his apartment and not your own. 

100 days without him, and it was as if it had only been 100 hours. Your entire body chemistry changed when he was around, the stick holding your spine rigidly in place, dissolving into calm, into a smile and a free giggle. It felt right again, and you almost forgot you'd ever felt wrong. 

After briefly changing, you swapped place with Spencer, who'd exited the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and wet hair. 

“Dry it for me?” He asked, sitting on your couch, and you nodded your ascent. A shower and a quick change later, and you were doing just that. 

As much as he tried to keep his head upright, it kept lolling onto your thigh, yawns stretching out of him as he nuzzled closer to you. 

“Spencer, you're like a big kid, keep your head up.” 

“I'm not a kid,” he laughed, hooking his arms behind your knees and nuzzling closer into your soft sweats. “I'm just tired.” 

“You're right. A child would probably be better behaved.” 

“Our child would be,” he sighed, but you'd already turned the hairdryer back on, drowning out everything. Everything but that thump again. A child, he was thinking about children, and more importantly, he was thinking about your children. With him. 

He'd always imagined himself with a family, knowing it would ultimately stay in his imagination. But for a second, his visions changed. It wasn't just a child or two. It was you. Thump. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. 

He only released the image when you finally pushed his head off of you and stood, turning away from him to get a glass of water from your kitchen. 

“So, any plans today? Books to read, papers to mark, undergrads to run away screaming from?” You let the ice water cool your hot cheeks, but kept your back to him. You were hot, embarrassed, and you were looking at him in a sickeningly sweet way that could only be described as love struck or struck dumb. 

“No, no, I finished all my obligations at the college yesterday,” he said, following behind you and picking up your cup when you set it down, taking a sip himself. 

“I was… I was actually hoping we could spend some time together? Unless you had plans, which is totally fine-” 

“No, Spencer, yeah, I have no plans, that's…. Well I have to do laundry, which is a bit boring but, no. No plans.” 

“Laundry?” 

“Two week case in Florida, I don't know how you didn't smell me yesterday, Spencer. I'd be running for the hills.” 

He laughed and stepped away again, grabbing the two go bags by the door and coming back into your space. 

“How about we get this done now so we can spend the day in a Who-Trek marathon?” 

“Make that a Who-Greys Anatomy Marathon, and you have yourself a deal.” 

He pouted again, and you snorted at the sight, taking another sip of water to calm yourself before you could react safely to that face. 

“Come on, you know you've been dying to know what happens next at the Grey Sloane Memorial Hospital.” 

“I thought it was called the Seattle Grace Mercy?” 

“Oh we better get to that laundry now. You have a lot to catch up on.” 

Grabbing a bag in one hand and his free hand in your other, you made your way down to your building's laundry room. But despite the man by your side and the relaxing day threatening to stretch ahead of you, a gloom caught you in the corridors. 

You'd worked for two weeks, practically solid. You'd killed a man two days ago, or at least someone on your team had multiple shots having been fired. Another day on your job, another unsub felled, and everyone else was content with this just being a part of the job description. 

It felt like each step towards the laundry room, each thing you did that was normal, that was regular, threw back in your face the pain you endured to save lives. 

The bag in your hand weighed you down, pulling you lower and lower by the second. 

You reached the laundry room, and you found the weight almost unbearable, stopping just before you could step in. You didn't have to think about what came next though, because suddenly the bag was out of your hands and Spencer was sorting your laundry for you. 

“It's a Saturday, so your neighbour's won't complain if we separate the darks and lights into two machines, will they?” He asked, not looking up at you as he worked pouring out the fabric softener and the detergent. “Y/N?” 

You hadn't noticed the lightness in your body until the tears hit your cheeks, the weight gone with his support. 

“Y/N, what is it? What's wrong?” He said, hands cupping your face, because of course he was immediately at your side. 

“I-I can't do it, Spencer…” your voice shook, pitching upwards, your vision blurring with tears. 

“Can't do what, Y/N? Talk to me please, let me help?” 

“I can't do laundry!” You said, finally bursting into a full fit of tears and burying your head in his waiting chest. 

“L-Laundry?” He said, trying not to laugh, but the smile slipping out anyway now you were holding him. 

You only sobbed again, nodding into his shirt, aware you were probably leaving snot all over it but not being able to care. It was your shirt anyway. You would just have to add it back to your laundry pile. 

The thought set you off on another wave of sobs, and Spencer set about comforting you again. Keeping an arm wrapped around you, he put his quarters into the machines and set them off before quickly ushering you back up the stairs into your apartment. 

“Y/N? Y/N, please talk to me,” he begged, smoothing your hair out of your eyes as you tried to gather yourself.

“I don't…. I can't….” You took a breath again, aware of the way your breathing hitched in your chest as you did. 

“I don't think I can do this anymore,” you said, and his eyes widened quickly. 

“This? Y/N, if you mean this as in us, then I can't-” 

“This job,” you clarified, hands digging into the soft flesh of his arms further as he held you, finally sitting back on your couch. 

“The job. Okay, the job. That's okay. We all feel like this at some point.” 

You sniffed again and refused to meet his eyes. 

“But this isn't like the other times this - It's like my whole b-body is protesting, and I can't sleep, and if I don't, then I might get sloppy and an unsub could-” 

“Y/N, focus on my voice. You're spiralling. Listen to my voice, let's take some breaths, and think about this for a second.” 

He guided you through some breathing, a hand on your back tapping out beats even as his voice grew quiet. 

When you finally relaxed, you were sat on top of him, his hand rubbing circles into your back. 

“I think it started when you left,” you whispered. “When you went to Mexico, and then, you know,” you've voice thickened, and you couldn't get the words out. 

“And then these last 100 days they've just been…difficult.” 

“100…difficult,” he echoed, almost breathless as he listened to you. 

“It's like I can't do it without you. I never had to try to do it without you, and now I get what people say when they say this job is shitty, because it is when your best friend isn't there.” 

You gave him a weak smile and wiped away your tears, trying to climb from his lap. But his firm arms held you still, and you didn't really want out anyways. 

“When I get home, everything is different, and I can't make myself do anything. If you weren't here, I wouldn't have done that laundry. I'd let it sit and avoid it for weeks. Do you understand?” 

“Y/N, lots of people feel depressed sometimes-” 

“It's not - Spencer, I don't think this is something I can medicate my way out of. I don't know what to do because I can't do my job without you, and I can't be happy doing my job, and if I leave my job I'll be without you and then-” 

Your voice cracked again. 

“And then I still won't be happy.” The words were barely a whisper, but they were a plea, too. You weren't sure what for. 

“You can't be happy without me?” He asked, but it was more a statement than anything else. Spencer felt horrible in that moment as his chest rattled, gleeful that he was your happiness. 

“I love you,” he said, outloud finally after eight years. 

“I love you, too, Spencer, but-” 

“No, Y/N. Listen to me. I. Love. You.” The thumping of his heart set the tempo for the choir that was his senses to begin singing, as he finally leaned forward and kissed you.

“I love you, and I don't care if you're working at the BAU or if you're avoiding laundry at home. I, god, you're amazing and wonderful, and you're a human being, and you've our yourself under so much pressure for the last decade to keep me alive, to keep all of us alive really and….” 

He took another breath, leaning into kiss you one more time. 

“And you deserve a break.” 

“W-When we take breaks, people die.” 

“Did anyone die when I was teaching for the last three months? When JJ went on maternity leave?” 

You shook your head, but your brain was still a mess. 

“You all had reasons, I-” 

“You have reasons, too. Y/N…. Y/N, let me be your reason.” 

For a moment or two, Spencer truly thought you were going to say no. He thought you would get up and walk away, or better yet, ask him to leave and never come back. 

So when you pressed your lips to his, he was sure that this was a dream. 

But to you, it was salvation. Spencer Reid's love was the lifeline you'd been thrown, and it was buoyant enough to make you start floating. 

His hands kneaded the flesh at your hips as he pulled you closer still to him, his tongue slipping into your mouth to explore every part of you there. 

“Y/N… love…you,” he mumbled with each spare breath he caught, and you only detangled your lips to hear him say it again as he pressed similarly heated kisses against every inch of your exposed skin. 

When Spencer's mind lost its ability to create original speech, he leant back on a lifetime of information, of learning love through books and people and marathons with you. 

“I know that all I know right now is that I love you. And I know that I always will,” he whispered, lifting you and carrying you back to the bed you'd only crawled from an hour hence. 

A hand slid under your shirt, and slowly pushed it over your head, letting it slowly drop to the floor as he held you tenderly. 

“To me, you are perfect.”

His mouth found one nipple, and he gently kissed, then suckled at it, hands softly caressing your stomach, feeling along every ridge of you as you writhed under him. 

“Of all the FBI Units, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine.” 

“Spencer,” you said, voice still thick with tears, but these ones more tender, more joyful. 

His hand eased your sweats over your ass and off, his hips settling between your legs as if he found the place he was made to lie forever. 

“The truth of it is, I’ve loved you from the first second I met you.” 

His mouth trailed lower until his tongue hit your clit, brushing against it languidly, as if it was his deepest desire to taste you and nothing else ever again.

His tongue flattened and flicked and pushed inside of you as you replayed his words again and again and again. You found yourself repeating them with him. 

“I love you,” you echoed as he pushed a finger inside of you. 

“I.. love you,” you gasped as he added another. 

“I love you,” you screamed as your back arched up off the bed, finding your pleasure in his tongue, just ad you'd found love in his words. 

“You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love….” He freed his cock from his pants, and took it in hand.

“I love…” With another kiss, he pressed the tip of it against you, asking for permission silently as you nodded your head. 

“I love you.” He pushed in slowly, but it wouldn't matter how he did it because now you knew how he felt, and you didn't want to return to a time of not knowing. 

Hooking your legs around him, Spencer dropped his forehead to yours and looked you directly in the eyes as he began moving. In and out, he thrust, mouth open in a moan of pleasure, likely mirroring your own.

The poetry, the movie lines, they were gone now, and Spencer was left with nothing but you, and love, and love for you. 

“Spencer,” you moaned out, and he felt his chest swell. Pride. His name on your tongue, his body pressed to yours, claiming you as his ad you claimed him as yours. 

He came with a shudder and you were not far behind, his undoing sending a shiver up your spine as his fingers grazed your clit again. 

You sat panting for a minute, still attached, still forehead to forehead. 

You weren't sure if it was him who giggled first or if it was you, but you were glad it was one of you. 

You spent the rest of the night, the rest of the weekend, wrapped in his warmth, dressed in his love, taking each day a step at a time as you basked in his adoration.

[sqtorux]

saying somethin' stupid like 'i love you'

fwb!gojo saying the forbidden L word during the deed ????

slightly nsfw, minors please don't interact. also fluff bc i miss gojo :(

not proof read !

thankyou so much for all the support on my recent ♡

satoru thinks you're so cruel. one minute you're holding onto him, nails digging into his back as if you needed him to live.

chanting his name so so beautifully as he trapped you between his bare body and the bed, relentlessly thrusting into you.

and then the next you were back to acting like even his mere existence irritated you. in a way it does but not in the way he thinks.

not once had you been there the morning after. only the crumpled sheets and your nail marks served as reminders that you were here, with him.

“gojo can you not-”

“that wasn't what you called me last night. what happened to toru?”

you glare daggers at him as one of his hand held your notebook high up. he was ridiculously tall and he liked abusing that privilege. especially against you.

“shut up” you walk past him without bothering to take your book.

“hey you mad baby?” he chuckled, getting in front of you, stopping you again.

“come on, answer me. why'd you leave? i thought we agreed to go to class together hmm?”

you roll your eyes at him and crossed your arms.

“that's what you said. i didn't agree.”

“aw you're too mean” he pouted as you scowl and try passing him again only to be stopped by his hand on your arm.

“i wanted you to stay.” his words were heavy, his face not showing even the slightest bit of his shit eating grin he always has on.

he turns to you, his round sunglasses were low on his nose and you could see his oh so beautiful eyes.

you look away because if you don't, you were pretty sure you'd be hypnotised and you'd do whatever he wanted.

“if you keep doing this i won't stay over anymore.” your words shot a painful jab at your own abdomen. his grip around you loosened slowly until he lets go completely.

“alright then.” he hands you your notebook, more like placed them into your arms as he walked away, eyes never meeting yours.

the next ‘sleepover’ took place three days after the banter with satoru. he hadn't called or texted the whole time but when you asked if he was up for it, he replied almost immediately.

so here you were again, him ramming into you as you cling onto his bare body for dear life. you could feel your climax coming as your grip grew tighter and tighter.

satoru was the same, chasing his high. he had missed you a lot the past three days but tried distancing himself just so his feelings for you would simmer down.

it only resulted him thinking about you all day and even more during the night. he finds himself wishing you were here with him, either giving you the pleasure you both agreed upon or just you laying down next to him. he didn't care.

he just wanted you to be there. with him.

and now that you are, his heart clenches the way you clench around him as the both of you cummed simultaneously.

he holds your body tight as you both work your way through the orgasm, euphoria rushing through both your veins.

“fuck y/n…” he groaned as he felt your grip loosen. he can't let you go just yet.

“i love you”

he hadn't meant to say it really. not like this at least.

“satoru we've been through this-” you push him weakly but he stays grounded, eyes boring into yours.

“i mean it.” he says, one of his hands found themselves caressing your cheeks as the other supported him while he hovered above you.

“you don't have to say it back or… feel it back…” satoru's voice was full of emotion.

“but just give me a chance to show you how much i love you. then we can work things out from there.”

you find yourself falling into the charms of gojo satoru. it's not everyday he offers his heart to someone. he doesn't offer it at all but now here he is, handing it to you on a silver platter.

“alright”

you could see satoru's face visibly light up and his blue eyes gleammed. he leaned down to place a soft kiss on your lips.

“thankyou” he traced his fingers on your jaw, his touch so soft, so addicting.

“you better treat me like a princess” you chuckle as he physically melted at the sound.

“oh i plan to do exactly that, and more, lovely.” he leaned down to place another kiss on your lips.

[heartfullofleeches]

[18+]

Introducing - Shy Perv/Horny Alien Darling who's happy to be kidnapped by cute little humans if it means they'll get their dick touched.

Bound and chained up in their kidnappers home - Darling has but one question as their obsessive stalker declares their undying love and how darling will never, ever leave their side again-

"s.... since we're dating now....may - can I touch your breasts?"

Alien Darling from a planet where sleeping with another person for pleasure is looked down upon and intimacy is not seen as common . There's hardly any need for it in terms of reproduction either as technology has mostly taken over in the entire process. Needless to say, Darling is blown away when they learn about earth and some of its cultures. They want to go on dates, and hold hands with someone cute, and maybe even kiss them, and- and.... There's just so much for them to do.

Darling ends up on earth one way or another - working their way up to a far enough life as a cashier. Approaching humans in a romantic/sexual tense is a bit difficult when you only have experience from the films you've seen in the short span of time you've known about them. Darling remains alone and finds fulfilment elsewhere on the internet and with human toys they purchase for "research" - How they'd love to be able to use what they've learned with a cute human, but no person in their right mind would want an awkward outcast like them...

Right?

When Darling finally released they're being followed - they come to the conclusion that it has to be some strange human mating ritual. Yan likely discovers the various blogs Darling has made detailing their journey they probably think nobody will read or believe. Regardless of whether darling truly is from other world - it's clear to see how depraved they are. Yan sees that for themselves when they leave a pair of their underwear in darling's bed and instead of questioning where they came from Darling skips an entire day of work just to drool all over them. Darling is too busy fondling Yan's chest to notice anything wrong - like how their boss hasn't called to check up on them in a while.

Oh....That's right - they don't have a phone anymore. Their lover said they didn't need it anymore.... Plus, their boss was found dead in a lake a few weeks ago.

Huh.....How could they forget something like that?

"Would you like me to take my shirt off while you touch me, love?"

"Yes, please!"

Darling feels the need to ask before every kiss. It's cute - until they're drilling their tongue(s) down Yan's throat everytime since they claim Darling can do whatever they desire to them. It's still impossible for them to believe a cute human would want them so badly. Captivity is a small prize to pay to finally act out the fantasies they've had since they've learned of earth and its people.

[delightfultheoristfox]

Never had a thing

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

I have no clue how this works the thought process was like: since I'm stuck in the worst writing block of my life why don't I start crossposting on Tumblr so it kind of feels like I've accomplished something while the truth is that I haven't been able to complete a WIP in two months? 🫠 I never posted on Tumblr. Is this okay? Anyways, Simon Riley brain rot. That's it. That's the post. Also, you can find this on AO3. 18+

Word count: 10k CW: smutty!!! jealous Simon Riley BECAUSE I honestly crave that. Soft Simon Riley because I crave that as well.

Masterlist 🦊

𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬

Simon had groaned like a battered dog when Price gave him the news that he needed to lie low. “Someone in Konni’s got your name” he’d said. “We don’t wanna take any risks. Just for a few weeks.”

He was sure those few weeks would turn into a few bloody months if he didn’t get a move on. For that, he’d hastily packed his things from the poor excuse of a flat the army had granted him, and started looking for a place to stay that wasn’t in Manchester.

Initially, Simon almost fantasized about buying his own flat. Maybe a piece of land and fulfill the wishes of the outcast that he was – living away from people, giving them the same treatment they’ve always given him.

Too bad he was legally dead. He had nothing to his name if not a grave that didn’t even exist, all his possessions were cursed memories and metaphorical things – a rank he didn’t hold, a flat that wasn’t his. Even his name barely pertained to him anymore.

The SAS wasn’t offering any accommodation, the tightwads. He couldn't buy a house, or rent one. He couldn't lean on any of his teammates, or he'd put them in danger – he wouldn't do it, not to them. Taint their lives with his name and the death it inevitably brings.

Price had helped him settle in a glorified motorway hotel. But he wasn’t picky – after all, he only had to stay for a few weeks.

A few days into his exile, he’d entered a Tesco with his head bowed and his hood on, a surgical mask on his face. A pack of Marlboro was all he wanted since the dodgy motel he was staying at (hiding) didn’t care if he smoked within the room. Plus, he reckoned that the smell of nicotine and combustion was a much better alternative to the rancid stench of mold.

However, as he plucked ten quid from his wallet, his eyes absently fell on a bulletin board behind the store clerk. There were tons of leaflets there: missing cats or dogs, people looking for a job or offering one. And then, a bright yellow paper caught his eye. Whoever printed it lacked taste but sure as hell knew how to catch one’s attention. He’d stopped in his tracks, a tenner between two fingers.

DESPERATE!!! PhD STUDENT LOOKING FOR A FLATMATE. NO SPECIFIC GENDER OR AGE AS LONG AS YOU CAN PAY RENT ON TIME. Two-bedroom flat, third floor, no elevator. If interested, please contact this number.

At the end of the flyer, the paper was cut into tear-off strips, so that interested individuals could rip the section with the phone number.

He liked that first word: desperate. He wondered if this person was as desperate as he was. Would they accept a man who wore a balaclava and looked proper sketchy? How desperate were they, really, if he asked to rent on verbal agreement – no contracts, no signatures whatsoever?

He decided he wanted to test that before he died of mold poisoning.

Nevertheless, when he dialed the number on his burner phone a few hours later, he wasn’t expecting the voice coming through the line. A shriek. A goddamn banshee. Chirpy and cheery, sounding like those damn advertisements on the telly for children’s toys. Whoever was on the other side of the phone was trying to sell.

The obnoxiously happy voice he’d heard through the receiver surely did match the person he found at the door of the flat a few days later - and the apartment itself.

It was a splash of colors Simon wasn’t even sure matched, from oranges and greens in the living room to yellows and blues in the kitchen. Walls of the same room were painted differently, and a brown leather couch lay on a round and fluffy turquoise carpet. A glass coffee table stood in the middle of it, hosting a clay vase with orange tulips.

You were a splash of colors yourself. Bright clothes, vibrant smile, and matching eyes.

Notwithstanding the loud energy that came with your presence, he could see you were tense as you guided him through the apartment. Simon didn’t blame you – he wasn’t the most trustworthy-looking lad. While he’d ditched the balaclava and had decided to go for a surgical mask, even hewould walk on eggshells around himself.

“Only a few weeks.” He’d said, deciding that he could withstand the eyesore that was the decor of that flat. “I’ll cover the rent while you find someone more permanent.”

And to his utter surprise, you’d accepted. He thought it was much too naïve of you, to let him rent without a lease. Without a document, without anything to prove that he'd pay as he'd promised in that listless fashion of his. Maybe you were as desperate as your tasteless leaflet said, in that dive of a Tesco.

He moved in in the span of a few days. You helped him with the boxes, although it was clear he didn't need a hand – especially not from a tiny thing like you. Not that you were small, he was just built like a brick house and you – well, you were made of wood, like in those cautionary tales mums tell their children. Pigs and wolves and shite.

You didn’t question why he wore the balaclava, nor why he never left his room, but sometimes you’d knock on his door to ask if he wanted pizza too, since you were ordering. He’d eat it (and any of his other meals really) in the cramped space he'd managed to rent, hosting only a bed, a poor excuse of a closet, and a desk.

Until one day he heard booming noises coming from the telly in the living room, so he peeked from the door he’d left ajar only to be greeted by Tom Cruise’s mug – Top Gun. 

Silently, he joined you on the sofa and he started correcting the way Maverick held the gun or grunting about how an aircraft couldn't make that maneuver. You never asked how he knew, but it had been a few weeks since he’d moved in and he’d already gathered how brilliant you were. You didn’t need to ask questions to connect the dots.

Simon wasn't keen on giving you his phone number, even the one on his burner phone. The paranoid that he was, and with a bit of experience to back it up, he didn't want to leave you with anything that could connect you to him.

So, you started leaving post-it notes on the fridge.

Dinner leftovers on the second rack. He’d tick off the sentence to let you know he’d read it, whether he ate them or not. Simon had this inborn ability to ghost people even without the use of phones.

Tried a new recipe. Tupperware with the blue lid. He’d write a score out of ten on the corner of the note.

I used your milk for breakfast!!! Sorry!!! He had huffed and grumbled when he’d headed out for groceries afterwards, but ever since that day, he started buying two cartons instead of one.

And he'd leave post-it notes for you, too.

Out for a few days. That’s how he would vaguely tell you he was being deployed. You would always draw a sad emoji next to it.

Watered your plants. Bloody things were more dead than alive. You’d mark down a very happy emoji, going as far as to add two poorly drawn thumbs up.

He barely noticed when his meals started happening on the kitchen table instead of his desk. Similarly, he couldn’t recall when he’d stopped taking pains to ensure your mealtimes wouldn’t coincide.

Friday night pizzas were always shared; it was a silent house rule you’d both agreed on. The both of you on the settee with the carton boxes on your thighs, two cold beers on the glass coffee table, and the telly playing a movie.

Your cheeky arse often chose a war film, and Simon had to refrain from rolling his eyes at how obvious you were being – trying to get to know him.

Zero Dark Thirty.

“Is it true you use callsigns?”

“Yes.”

“You have one?”

“Yes.”

“What is it, then?”

“Classified.”

“Oh, c’mon.”

“Negative.”

The hurt locker.

“You ever defused a bomb?”

“Yes.”

“No shit – oh my God. How was it?”

“Dangerous.”

“Why thank you for the chat.”

“No problem.”

“When did it happen? Like, what was the situa-”

“Classified.”

You made a face and mocked his accent. “Classified.”

Apocalypse now.

“You are a bit like Kurtz.”

He gave you a look. “Mental?”

You huffed. “No. I meant the things he says, not the whole insanity bit.”

Simon scoffed but otherwise stayed silent. The film rolled in the background.

He murmured, then. “The horror, the horror.”

And you laughed.

He found it inexplicably easy to strip down for you, until he stood metaphorically naked in front of your eyes. Until he told you his full name and gave you his personal phone number. Until he showed his face.

Until he noticed you'd stopped looking for a flatmate, and his weeks of rent turned into months like he’d initially foreseen, but for another reason entirely. Months turned into years, but he could’ve never predicted anything in his life to last this long.

Until two summers later, while sporting a mundane black surgical mask and casual clothing, he took a photo with you in your doctoral gown, in front of your Uni. The same picture that now hung next to the entryway of your flat.

Until two years became three, and then four.

Until he just kind of… stayed.

𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬

Simon’s day has worn him to the bone. The only thing he wants now is to go home, down a beer in two gulps, and knock himself out on any flat surface available.

He’s risked his fair share of speeding fines on the motorway, parked the car in the building's garage, and trudged up the three flights of stairs that led to his apartment. When he unlocks the door, he finds a sight that melts his frustration into a puddle at his feet.

You’re lying on the sofa, absolutely unbothered, looking lovely and homely. A lousy romcom plays on the telly. One hand is hiding in the crinkling shell of a packet of Walkers, and your other one is curled around the neck of a Stella Artois. Simon gathers that your workday must've finished a little earlier than normal because you’re already in your loungewear: a pair of loose sleeping shorts and a t-shirt he knows all too well.

All too well, because it’s his. 

And he could give you the benefit of the doubt; after all, you often wear oversized clothes. It could’ve been a laundry mishap; you could’ve absently taken it out of the dryer without a second glance, thinking it was yours. But the blatant British Army patch on the sleeve and his surname written in white block letters on the back give him very little to work with to excuse you. He doesn’t even remember he still owned that tee, probably because, factually, he doesn’t anymore.

It's clearly yours, now.

He drops the house keys in the tray lying on the floating shelf next to the doorway, before closing the door behind him. The sound must’ve alerted you, because your head drops backwards, rolling against the armrest of the sofa.

"Evenin'." You beam, looking at his downward image. Your head lolls and your mouth looks busy chewing on a handful of crisps.

Ever the vigilant bastard, he wants to flick your forehead and remind you that chewing upside down could lead to choking, but you aren’t a child. Although, with the crumbs of what smells like salt and vinegar crisps littering the corners of your lips and the baffling, chaotic way your hair is tied in a bun, you sort of look like one.

You curl your legs to leave a free spot for him, patting your foot on the sofa’s cushions. "Wanna join me?"

Simon hums quietly; his eyes flicker over to the TV for just a glance. He isn’t in the mood for a romcom, not at all. But he does want company. He sighs and shrugs off his jacket before toeing off his boots. His balaclava is snatched off by a tired hand, and dropped somewhere he doesn’t care to check. Only two wide steps with his annoyingly long legs and he’s already by the sofa, flopping onto it like a wet rag slapped on the leather cushions.

He eyes the bag of crisps in your hand and raises a questioning eyebrow.

You’ve learned how silent communication works with him because most of the time (especially after particularly hellish days or long deployments) he wanders around the flat like a haunting specter more than a living being.

You mockingly raise your own questioning brow, but alas, you hand him the pack of crisps he’d wordlessly asked for. And just because you can, and because he’s never said anything when you did it, you stretch your legs to rest over his thighs.

That earns you a grumpy side-eye that softens just as quickly when he spots the checkered pink and green socks he gifted you for your graduation.

Simon doesn’t know much about things like that. He isn’t daft, he knows how big it is to earn a PhD. But presents aren’t his thing, nor are the pleasantries built around big achievements.

At the time, he was just tired of seeing you walk barefoot around the flat and thought you needed those more than anything since, apparently, slippers weren’t all the rage in your book. Surely, before his life-changing present, Simon was used to you asking if he’d seen your other slipper while you stumbled about the flat only wearing one on your feet. He’d find them everywhere: under the sofa when vacuuming the carpet, hidden in a groove between the floor and the kitchen counter, forgotten on the washing machine or in the washing machine.

He’d figured that the only way to ensure you’d avoid knocking your pinky toe on the corner of some furniture was to make sure you couldn’t simply drop the footwear. Socks were it, apparently.

He remembers how your eyes had shone like the bleeding sun when he’d given them to you, how you’d clutched them to your chest as if he’d just gifted you a pot of gold. It had been a lovely sight, one he carefully keeps tucked in the almost empty corner of his mind, the one reserved for happy memories.

Nevertheless, Simon has rarely minded your habit of lounging with your calves across his thighs. The opposite, actually. Your friendly sentiments make him feel like, for once, he isn’t about to get stabbed in the back. Moreover, the fact that he is letting you invade his personal space like that, when he never allows anyone else to so much as touch him, truly is a testament to the monumental trust he’s placed in you.

You take a sip from your beer. "Alright?"

“Peachy.” He grumbles dryly.

Your lips purse to conceal a smirk, but hell is it hard. His dry humor never fails to rob a halfhearted smile from you. He has subconsciously started using it more often than socially acceptable just because of that.

You wiggle your toes against his abdomen, trying to steal a smile of his own from him – even if those tend to appear once in a blue moon.

What you are given, however, is only a slap on the ankle.

Catching on his mood, you down one last sip from your Stella and then you wiggle the bottle at him.

"There," you offer. "Seems like you need it more than I do."

He tosses the bag of crisps on the coffee table and accepts the beer from you, taking a rather large gulp from it. He isn’t a light drinker by any means. In his defense, it takes a whole lot of alcohol to knock him out. He has the metabolism of a properly trained soldier and his liver has processed much worse things than a bloody Stella Artois.

“Why are you being particularly friendly today?” He asks with thinly veiled sarcasm.

He isn’t complaining, per se. But he is a pessimist, one who can’t seem to grasp the notion that people can act accommodating without asking anything in return. Even if that has been your only behavior for the past four years.

Therefore, Simon understands why you narrow your eyes at his question, all offended and a tiny bit sour, as if he’s just asked something outrageous. However, he also knows you’ll brush off his comment because it is true, what he said.

You are particularly cheery.

"I'm back in the game." You state, sounding as if you've achieved some great thing. "I have a date next Friday."

That.

That is what Simon needs to hear in order to give you a genuine reaction.

He raises a single blond eyebrow and glances away from the TV to look at you with that signature hooded gaze of his – the kind that could cut through steel.

“A date?” He grumbles. “Who’s the bloke?”

In response, you squirm a little on the couch to lazily reach for your phone on the coffee table. One of your legs swings to keep your balance, and if Simon didn’t have the reflexes of a sniper, you’d have heeled his face. He automatically grabs your ankle to both prevent your fall and save the integrity of his nose, releasing a sigh – bloody used to it.

You're absolutely unaffected by whatever's happening at the other end of you, awfully concentrated on your task at hand. Fingertips graze the phone enough to slide it closer until you finally manage to have it in your grasp. It’s painfully clear how you can’t be bothered to stand.

You lie back down on the sofa with a sigh, as if that has been an exhausting endeavor.

Simon scoffs.

Your legs return to his lap with apt nonchalance. Then, you swipe through your screen. Simon can only see the phone covering your face from that angle, how the screen light illuminates your features – brows furrowed and the tip of your tongue peeking between your teeth, all focused on finding something on it.

After painstakingly long seconds, you turn your phone to him. Simon squints at the screen and then focuses on the picture you’re showing.

The man is… somewhat handsome, he has to admit. Brown hair, blue eyes, charming smile with possibly fake teeth. Definitely older. Probably a boring, pretentious tosser. Probably wouldn’t appreciate your carefree nature. He wouldn’t return your lost slippers at your door. He wouldn’t buy you socks so you’d stop whining about being on the verge of breaking your toes. He definitely wouldn’t let you paint only one wall of the living room orange, because, in your opinion, having all four would be “too flashy” - as if one on its own isn’t obnoxious enough.

He has to admit, however, that you look beyond excited, and maybe a little enamored. It’s an adorable view, really, and he hates himself for being unable to rejoice about it with you.

"Adam." You tell him his name, even if he never asked. "Thirty-nine. Associate professor of Linguistics at the Uni where I graduated. Found him on Bumble.”

Simon has to physically stop himself from giving a scoff in response to that.

“Looks like a knob.” He takes yet another large gulp of beer, finishing the last drop. You frown, and before you can interject, he adds. “Looks old. Tory, probably.”

You roll your eyes and nudge his thigh with the tips of your toes.

"He ain't a Tory." You scoff. That little frown still lingers on your features, carving a small line between your brows, as if he'd personally offended you.

His comment prompts you to turn your phone to yourself and look at the picture of this Adam lad you found on Bumble of all places.

You look back at Simon and his deadpan stare. Then back at Adam and his million-dollar smile.

Your eyes swivel back to Simon again, and you tentatively ask, "You think he's a Tory?"

Simon places the empty beer bottle on the glass coffee table. The sound somehow makes you take a metaphorical step back. "Nah. He can't be."

You purse your lips, concentrated and slightly, just slightly amused.

Eyes back to Adam. Then to Simon. "Right?"

Simon looks that ounce of smug enough to be considered annoying once he notices how you’re about to go cross-eyed in changing your focus, all hesitant and that bit concerned. He already knows how you have zero faith in your own judgment of character even if you refuse to make peace with it.

A little too naïve for this world. A tad too innocent. When the topic would come up, you’d get all riled up and primitive in your frustration, muttering indiscernible words and expletives that sound like grunts. Brows all furrowed and pretty lips scowling. He'd remind you how you let him in your flat without a single proof that he wasn't a serial killing sociopath, and your mouth would lock in place.

His hand lands on the curve of your foot, smoothing down towards your ankle; the warmth of his palm bleeds through the fuzzy fabric of your socks. He sighs, a little overdramatic as if he were about to tell you some sad, sad news. "Definitely a Tory.”

You want to reprimand his lack of faith in your choice of men. But his hand on your ankle feels so nice and you’re a sucker for physical contact. Begrudgingly, you settle that your bruised ego and your wounded pride are worth the gentle giant’s warmth.

However, the lingering touch does nothing to discourage your fire, so you glower. The least believable thing he's ever seen.

It takes much more to upset a special forces operator with a series of achievements as long as Simon Riley’s. A doctor with a mop of hair lazily tied in a bun, checkered socks in his lap, and residues of crisps around her lips surely isn’t it.

"Well." You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. "I'll ask him on Friday when we’ll have dinner."

He scoffs.

“You’re gonna bring up politics at dinner on a first date, yeah?” A condescending pat on your ankle. “Sounds really romantic.”

His dry humor again. It wins in its intent to steal a chuckle from you.

The fight leaves as quickly as it entered your bloodstream, and you flop on the couch with a sigh, your phone falling somewhere on the turquoise carpet.

"Gotta make sure I ain't dating a conservative." You quip.

Simon watches you clasp your hands over your belly as it ripples with the first waves of a breathy laugh. You crane your neck forwards, eyes squinting in mirth clocking his own.

"He looks like he’d vote Tory." You concede with a laugh and pinch the air in front of your face. "A tiny bit - just a tiny bit."

“A tiny bit?” He snorts. “Lad probably has a framed photo of Margaret Thatcher in his bedroom.”

You laugh again, rubbing an idle hand over your eyes as you shake your head, utterly defeated. He can see in the way your shoulders sag that he’s shattered the careful castle of hopes and dreams you'd built brick by brick around the man.

"God no." Equally as exasperated as entertained, you sigh. "Can't imagine shagging him with the ol' Iron Lady staring at my tits."

He scoffs again at the mental image you have just provided him with. He doubts he’ll ever forget the picture, to his dismay. “Christ. Didn’t need that in my mind.”

In the afterglow of that belly laugh, you don’t notice how he’s somewhat tightened his grip around your ankle. Simon knows you aren’t one to pay attention to those subtleties. Too focused on other people's well-being to realize when yours is being put first. He can already imagine how your heart is unraveling with the knowledge that you’ve managed to make him quirk a smile, however small, even if his day had been a proper shitshow.

The selfless angel that you are.

You turn your eyes to the ceiling, looking for something that clearly isn’t written on the colorful paint of the walls.

"All jokes aside," you murmur. "I hope it goes well."

Your eyes touch his. There’s a melancholy in yours you only allowed him to see. Thinly veiled vulnerability, heart bare just for his eyes.

"Really need a confidence boost," you say with a wistful smile. "And some love on the side."

He mutters under his breath. “Right.”

Simon tries not to wince at your words and what they imply. He thinks you’re too good to rely on other people (men, above anything) to boost your confidence. As if what he thinks are mouthwatering looks, a striking sense of humor and a brilliant mind aren’t enough to make you feel a peg above everyone else.

He hates that you don’t seem to understand it. Hates that you require other people’s approval even when you have a brain that could put most to shame and a series of achievements to boot.

He hates that despite how sharp you are, you’re slow when it comes to emotional intelligence. And it’s Simon fucking Riley who’s saying it, the most emotionally unavailable man he himself knows. It isn’t that you can’t discern signs and tells, you aren’t stupid by any means, but it’s painfully obvious how you just can’t fathom why people would be attracted to you that way. Thus, you’d always dismiss compliments and advances with annoying levity.

In four years, Simon has witnessed all your relationships wither because your lack of self-confidence made you question everything.

Seemingly aware of the tense air your comment has caused, your cheeky grin makes a comeback just to lift his spirits. You wriggle your foot under his grip to get his attention. "You think he'll like my socks?"

Simon has to admit (finally, at least true to himself) that your tireless search for reassurance about your date isn’t exactly doing wonders for his heart or his sanity.

“He’ll love them, you muppet.” He deadpans.

You chuckle at the comment, and then you relax, thinking the conversation over. Comfortable with your eyes on the telly and your hands clasped over your stomach, that gentle feeling of home and familiarity lulls you into a soft rest.

Simon on the other hand, is anything but relaxed. His jaw clenches involuntarily as if he despises even the mere idea of another man getting to see you like this: lying down, all soft and sweet and sleepy in the fuzzy socks he’s bought you. With his surname plastered on your back, of all things.

His eyes flick to the hand on your ankle. He wants to keep holding on tighter and stop you from leaving altogether. Keep you tethered to that couch without ever needing to stand up.

He could tell you to drop it. He could.

But you’re a grown woman, in her prime, with her doctorate and her big girl job that gives her enough money to start a war of her own but for some reason has never decided to pick up her things and leave that shabby flat she shares with him.

And he is poor with words. Communication is a skill he’s never learned, unless it involves extracting precious intel from skin-trading bastards or bloodthirsty pricks. He surely isn’t going to communicate with you that way, even if it's the only one he knows. The realization makes his lips dip into a scowl of self-hatred for being seemingly unable to keep you.

Simon’s eyes rake over your body – your silhouette concealed by his shirt, softly draped over you like finely carved marble. With natural flow, his hand follows the path traced by his pupils, and very deliberately slides up your leg, towards your knee.

Initially, the movement only prompts you to steal a glance from him. But when your eyes land on that frown, as if he were deep in thought, it feels natural, instinctive, to give him your undivided attention again.

Softly, you ask for the second time that day, "Alright?"

He nearly lets out a huff of laughter. Such a simple question yet so goddamn loaded he’s on the verge of blowing a gasket – his patience wearing thin. 

He locks his eyes with yours, only to snark once more. “Peachy.”

His humor this time isn’t successful in the effort of stealing a smile. In Simon’s defense, he hasn’t used it to make you crack one at all.

You frown, a tiny fracture between your brows. A little confused, mostly concerned. He can see it in your doe eyes, how you’re already miles away – overthinking every minute detail you might have missed during the conversation. You always thought so much Simon had joked, once or twice, that your skull was too small to host all that.

Your eyes shift from his face to his hand. Simon dares to be bolder and slides his palm a little higher. His fingers curl around the plush of your thigh.

"Peachy, eh?" You inquire, clearly suspicious of his antics. "You look far from peachy.”

A low scoff slips past his lips.

He is anything but peachy, he’d give you that. He is anything but sweet, far from it. Bitter, would fit better. Jealous, would fit best. He is downright pissed, but not at you. Never at you. He wishes he were a gifted conversationalist, so he could put into words what the idea of you shoving your tits in the face of some twat is making his hackles rise. He barely entertains the thought of you talking and laughing with him, never mind brushing with the concept of you riding the life out of that bastard. God forbid you brought him over and did all that in your flat – his flat.

He swallows in a piss poor attempt at juggling his feelings. His eyes shift to the TV to further conceal them.

“Just thinkin’ about work is all.” He mutters. Simon can almost hear Soap’s Scottish lilt calling him a “pining sod.”

Oh, but you’re an insistent little thing, aren’t you? Simon can hear the sheer doubt in your tone when you hum in response. The slight changes in the vibration against your frowning lips, the curves in the intonation of that simple, but so very telling sound. He catches each and every one of those details like the guard dog that he is.

In his peripherals, he sees the shifting of your eyes, from his hand to his profile. He sees you take in the crook of his nose, broken a few times (a tough job and a harsh childhood did that to him).  His furrowing brows, light honey, like his hair – all ruffled and staticky from removing his balaclava when he got home.

"Work." You deadpan, but it comes out softer than intended.

His fingers aren’t as sneaky as before when they slide further up your thigh. Simon knows you feel that same electric spark because your quadriceps stiffen under his palm.

“Work,” he affirms, his jaw tight as his hand journeys farther to reach the hem of your shorts. His thumb rubs from side to side over the skin at the edge of the fabric, and Christ, he’s fighting the growing itch to just pull them down.

While the two of you have watched plenty of films on this same sofa, in this same position, Simon has never touched you.

As in, touched you, touched you.

He’s averse to that, to anything that isn’t a noncommittal gesture. This one, however, obviously isn’t.

His hand is so big against your thigh, that plush skin underneath his callouses almost makes him feel guilty. The hardened palm used to disperse death shouldn’t touch such soft things. He feels the peachy fuzz brush against the pads of his fingers, he sees how they leave divots in the meat.

It makes his heart beat a little faster, blood pumping in all the wrong places but his head.

His expression is blank, dull eyes staring straight at the television. However, his mind is not as quelled as he portrays. It’s leading him to a very unholy place, where he wonders if your skin is as soft on your belly as it is on your thigh. Whether you’d whimper or groan if he were to flick his tongue over your breasts. If your eyes would roll back, were he to plunge his fingers deep into your core.

So many ifs he wants to put to the test.

He gently skims where your thigh meets your hip, and Simon swears he hears you gulp. He can tell you’re absolutely blindsided. You've been living with him as your flatmate for four years. Four fucking years, and if he ever tried to give you anything more than his usual snark, he might have been a little too subtle about it.

Simon glances at you, before returning his focus to the telly. One look is all he needs to hear your thoughts as if they were his own – the self-deprecation, the anxiety, that tormenting feeling of not being enough.

How torn you look. Stiff fingers curl around air only to release it right afterwards, fighting an invisible enemy. Let him do what he wants, let his hand slide up your shorts, and find the cotton lace of your panties. Or, pull away and retreat into your safe bubble, where no one can hurt you.

As if he’d ever lay an ill hand on you. All you have to say is “Stop” and he’ll take back his arm – cut it off for good measure.

Your eyes are hooded as they turn to look back at the malleable flesh of your thigh in his hold. His fingers disappear under your shorts until the first knuckle. He brushes along the hem of nice lace undies, feeling the rough fabric under the pads of his fingers.

Your voice is deliciously breathy. "Wha' about work, then?"

Avoidance. Normally, he'd let you. If it were any other situation, he'd brush it off with you. He'd keep up with the chat, coddling you in that safe place you seem too keen on spending time in.

Not now.

His head turns back to you; hungry eyes fixed on the way your mouth parts to yield that soft whisper. It makes his eye twitch, a splinter in his veneer.

“Reckon work can wait,” he rasps.

Simon is hyper-aware of how close he is to your core – a knuckle away from the throbbing heat between your legs. He sees your bowed head, eyes lidded with that primal desire he is instilling in you.

You look as if your brain has turned into soup; the ingredients a mix of shared memories and touches – even the most indifferent, neutral ones. To his utter joy, for the first time in your life, it almost looks like you’ve finally turned off your thoughts.

Your jaw clenches in a desperate attempt to get a grip on yourself. He knows you’re confused; he is too. Because it’s wrong to indulge in intimacy when more than just a friendship is at stake. Money's involved, a roof over your heads, a bed to kip, and food in your bellies – four years of shared everything is involved.

But you agree. You nod your head a little dumbly, and suddenly work can wait. To Simon, the fucking world can.

Your voice is a mumble. "Yeah, guess it can."

“Mhm.”

His gaze flicks up to your eyes, depriving your lips of the attention they were given, and he is delighted to see that you’re just as affected as he is.

Simon's fingers get squished between your thighs when you clench them together. He squeezes, feeling how the flesh rolls between his fingers, how it folds where the stretch marks crinkle.

“Lift your leg up for me,” he rasps.

Breath is stuck in your throat in utter anticipation. Simon knows it's been a long time since you've been touched in any way, shape, or form. You could've gone out and found a man willing to have a shag, it wouldn't have been hard to find someone who needed it too – someone as desperate as you look right now.

After all, that single word is the one that led him to you in the first place.

Yet you never did it. Simon has never seen you bring a man, or a woman, back to the flat. Sometimes you’d disappear with a text, saying you’d be sleeping out, but you never brought anyone home. And he never asked why – mostly, because he thought it wasn’t his business. Another part of him, however, was afraid that if he did, you’d take it as an invitation to do so. Obviously, he wasn’t too keen on the idea.

After giving it little thought, you part your thighs for him. One still rests in his lap while the other dangles off the sofa.

There's very little resolve left in you, Simon can tell by the way your eyes are so focused on his disappearing hand, and by the way you shatter when he experimentally glides one finger over the damp line on your panties.

“Fuck.” You hiss, tilting your head back.

You must want him dead, he thinks, as he gawks at the way your throat curves.

“Christ.” He mutters under his breath. He pushes the pad of his thumb down the cotton, feeling how it sticks to your slit. “Barely touched you.”

He wants to take his sweet time. He does. Wants to take it slow, reduce you to a mess of please and more before he finally gives you what you want. But he’s just as desperate as you are, isn’t he? He’s craving, clawing at the walls, to feel you clamp around him. Feel you drip down his hand until his callouses are coated, slick flowing down the crevices of his palm.

He’s no better than you are, currently.

So, his fingers slip under your panties just enough to touch your folds.

You can't help but tilt your head forwards again, only to look down at the bulge under your shorts created by his hand.

But when your eyes flit back to his, he stops.

Maybe he’s gone too far, he thinks. Maybe you’re realizing this is one hell of a mistake that can only end with you going your separate ways, something he will never forgive himself for.

However, it’s then, that you nod. That worry line between your brows, ever-present, seems gone. Smooth skin between your beautiful, beautiful eyes. And Simon feels whole again, feels wanted. The battered hound dog that he is, only useful for one thing and one thing only – sowing the seeds of death, and reaping them afterwards – is wanted.

Not tolerated. Not required. Wanted. Needed.

He knows your brain is turning its cogs, fighting against the fog of a kind of hunger that can’t be extinguished, one that only wants to be sated – by him, and him only.

Why is he doing this. 

What does it mean.

Is it because of the date you should have the next Friday. 

Is it because he's frustrated at work and you’re simply there, lying on a silver platter.

So many fucking questions it irritates him that, somehow, while his middle finger is tracing lazy patterns to part your folds, you’re still thinking. 

He doesn’t allow a single one to leave your lips, because he plunges one finger inside your cunt.

His first if is answered, then. Your eyes don’t roll back like he’d expected.

Your brows flutter to your forehead, and your mouth parts to form a pretty oval. Your chest swells as if you've just taken the first breath in your entire life. Your eyes, hazy and blurred, hold his own. And somehow, that is the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

Your leg on his lap is taut and stiff, toes curling under those loud socks you’re wearing.

Simon takes in the sight of you – all flushed and panting. The only sound in the air is the quiet drone of the telly in the background and your sharp inhales.

He can only describe himself in that moment as wrecked. Maybe even more so than you are right now, all rigid in anticipation of his first movements.

“Keep your eyes on me," he growls out, and when you nod, he curls his pad inside of you.

Your fingers seem to mimic his own, but they grip the edge of the sofa’s cushions instead. Your nails scratch at the leather with such voracity they leave beige lines against the dark brown.

He struggles against the double layer of fabric entrapping his hand to your cunt – the lace scratches the knuckle on his thumb, the cotton of your shorts is a manacle on his wrist. But fuck if he cares about all that when your hips twitch to encourage his movements.

You look ruined. And he loves that – the effect he has on you, the fact that he’s the one to have you like this.

He moves his finger in slow, long strokes. He doesn’t do it to torture you, no. He observes, because for once his constant vigilance is not only useful to quell his paranoia, but also to feed your desires. He tests movements, tries different spots, looking for that one within your walls that will make you scream. 

And he finds it, then – to his utmost delight. Here you are: your breathy moans, soft and honeyed, turn into a stuttering and almost pained "Oh." And he knows he has you under his thumb, all perfect and yearning, unraveling with just one of his fingers. He’s looking straight at your face, not wanting to miss a single twitch of an eyebrow. Your pretty lips are all slick with your spit and they part to release the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard.

His strokes intensify, drawing back as much as he can with the limited movements he has, only to push in and hit ever so slightly that rougher patch of nerves he’s located. He doesn’t want to make you squirm, but he has something tickling his brain – questions. Or better, one question.

He places his thumb over your pearl, unsheathing it from the fleshy hood with a glide. He drinks the way it makes your breath hitch and stutter in sudden hypersensitivity. He rolls his pad tentatively, only to see you grit your teeth and groan – muscles and sinews all tensed up in your neck. It's like molten lava in your belly. It's syrupy hot and gushes out of you in long, sticky droplets that pool on his finger, down to the knuckle.

“D’you think you’ll need to go on that date on Friday?” he rasps and rolls his thumb again.

His question doesn't seem to make you falter; your hips are unrelenting in their chase for release, as you push against his hand, grinding like your life depends on it. However, he can tell that it irked you. That blissed-out look pinches in frustration.

You're breathless, on a feverish hunt for that taste of heaven his finger’s promising, and Simon has the gall to bring up another man? One he's been mocking for the past half hour? He's surprised by himself as well.

You whine. "Does this look like the bloody time?"

“No,” he concedes, sounding a little patronizing.

He has the upper hand, quite literally, and to give you a friendly reminder of the power he holds, he slides another finger in.

You're absolute putty in his hands now. Your fingers grip at the sofa, your cheeks all flushed and warm. Your back arches, and he knows he just gave you that fullness you've been chasing. The sensation that causes the right amount of pleasure and pain of the stretch. He’s knuckle deep inside of you, his fingers trapped by your velvety walls as he strokes harder, lingering a little longer where you like it, but not faster. He keeps that steady pace that takes your breath away, not forgetting to lavish your clit with attention, and leaves you with just enough air for you to free those clipped and breathless moans.

He’s shameless as his other hand clamps your shin on his lap and pushes it down onto the painful tent on his jeans. He shifts his hip upwards to grind against your calf and hisses when it causes the zipper to graze his cock.

“Gonna cancel it, then?”

It’s bliss. You look like an angel.

"Yeah," you breathe out, a little incoherent. "Cancel it, 'course."

Your voice is more of an unintelligible mumble than anything else – two fingers in and his thumb on your nub drawing idle circles. Perfect pressure. Perfect fit.

He’s never seen you look this beautiful, all abandoned and relaxed, with your big brain he loves so much shut off completely. Synapses only working to generate a wish for release, so sweet and simple, and nothing else. And who is he to deny such a plain request, you sweet thing.

Simon would give you the moon if you asked.

He’s powerless in your presence, undecided if to focus on your face, or to stare at your hardened nipples. They brush against the black training t-shirt he once owned – right below the two crossing swords painted under the royal crown. It should be blasphemous. Should be bloody illegal to sully the name of the monarchy that way.

That is, if he gave a fuck about it. And even if he did, he’d see no wrong in it – because what can you taint when you’re the purest thing he’s ever touched.

Your hips move in tandem with his fingers, your face scrunched in that desperate look of someone who has a piece of heaven just out of reach. He watches you as you fall apart under his fingers and keeps your leg down so he can grind against it. If the situation were different, he’d feel like a wild animal in that regard, but there isn’t a spot on you he doesn’t wish to worship.

Especially now, when you look like this. With your hair sticking to your forehead and loose locks escaping your low bun.

He can’t take his eyes away from you – you have him absolutely entranced.

“s too much.” He hears you whine amongst the mist in his brain

“It ain’t.” He manages to grunt as if it's an order.

And you’re a little insubordinate, because you try and squirm away. But your shorts are his shackles as much as they’re yours – they fasten his hand to your cunt, while locking you against his unwavering fingers.

“Simon,” your voice is so wrecked when you beg. “Please - fuck.”

And how he finds the strength to snark is beyond him. His voice is thick and heavy. “’m tryin’.”

He drags his fingers deep down where yours can’t reach, where he’s found that patch of nerves that reduces you into a puddle of yourself. His thumb on your clit is steadfast, rubbing just above the hood where you’re not as sensitive, only to drag down again and make you see stars.

And the way that string of “Yes” leaves your lips, in that euphoric wheeze that tugs at the corners of your lips, makes his cock ache to be anywhere but in the confines of his jeans.

Your eyes are all glossy when you prop yourself on your elbows to fuel his resolve. Petal lips red and shiny, catching your teeth in an attempt to muffle your moans – bone-deep ingrained insecurity you can’t seem to get rid of. He doesn’t force you, though – he wants to hear you, sure, but most of all he wants to see you crumble to shreds. And if hiding your voice is what you need, then feel free to be his bloody guest.

Your hips stutter and your belly ripples under his large tee draped over it, and he’d recognize those signs anywhere. 

“Cum f’ me,” he orders. “C’mon, love. Give it to me.”

It takes a few more pumps of his fingers, and Simon feels it before he sees it. You clench around his fingers in rippling waves, thrumming rhythmically. Your cunt deliciously threatens to cut them off just above the knuckle.

And fuck, aren’t you a goddamn sight. 

Simon thinks it's almost cathartic to simply watch you. How your head tilts back to hit the armrest of the sofa, the way your toes curl in his lap and your foot on the floor rigidly lifts. The sway of your hips as they undulate to meet his thrusts and the liberating groan that leaves your lips, touching the sky with your fingers.

He unconsciously guides you through it, but truthfully, he has absolutely no idea what to do with himself – not with you looking straight out of one of his most unhinged dreams. His fingers slow down but keep moving relentlessly.

However, it would be a lie for him to say he knows what he’s doing.

You come down from it and your eyes are blinky and unfocused, staring at the ceiling. Your body deflates on the couch, limp and sated. Syrupy and warm. With your chest free to move now that the heavy weight on it has finally been lifted. He allows you this moment of privacy as you recollect yourself, although he truly wants you to look back at him again. He doesn’t want to miss a beat of this, yet he sort of understands.

Your breath comes out in puffs. He’s not faring any better on that note.

"Simon," you breathe, his name exquisite from your lips. "Christ."

He’s gawking. Watching your face for a moment more, he meets your eyes as they flick back to him down the slope of your nose.

Thumb still on your clit, the movements are gentler and featherlight. His voice is hoarse and rough as he speaks. “Alrigh’?”

You chuckle, breathless and a little nervous now that the appetite has been sated – much more self-aware than before.

His fingers are still inside of you and you’re already overthinking this. He knows it. He just hopes, deep down, that you’re not regretting it – because he sure as hell isn’t.

"Peachy.” Is your reply.

Oh, how the tables have turned. Joke’s on him, he’s fed you enough sarcasm for you to start throwing it back at him. Simon feels too weak to even smirk. However, his eyes do narrow, in a similar manner to how yours would at his snarky comebacks.

He gently slides his fingers out of you, mindful of your current sensitivity. He brings the hand up, seeing the gleam of your slick shamelessly coating their lengths down to the knuckles.

“Fuckin’ look at that.” He murmurs, unable to discern whether he’s talking to you or to himself, “Messy girl.”

He thumbs his middle finger and rolls the juice between the pads, thinking; tongue out to lick his lips like the voracious beast he is.

Simon reaches over and brings his hand towards your mouth. A jerky nod of his jaw, “Open.”

He knows he’s already crossed a line the two of you never even dared to toe before. And if he’s going to lose you after this, if you’re going to turn your back on him and leave the flat (leave his life) then he’s going to make the most of it.

Your brows are pinched in sudden uncertainty. A contradicting spectacle, if mixed with the way your chest is still heaving and how your cunt is still wet.

But tonight, you seem eager to catch him off guard, because you oblige. Your lips part and you offer your tongue, never breaking eye contact.

Each time he thinks you can’t look more beautiful you prove him fucking wrong.

He hums lowly in approval, and there’s something dark in that sound. He gently runs his fingers across your tongue, coating it with your taste. Fingertips slide and follow its curve. He stares at you with such an intensity, like he could consume you if he had a mind to. You devour him first, wrapping your lips around his knuckles.

When your tongue delves around his fore and middle fingers, he has to close his eyes. He has to roll his head, releasing the tension in his jaw. He has to, or he’ll cum in his goddamn jeans. The sharp inhale he takes almost burns his nostrils; his sigh heavy and anguished when his lips surrender to it.

“How d’you taste, dove?” he asks, blinking his eyes open.

The way his voice rasps out that pet name, rough like sandpaper, makes a shiver run down your neck. He sees it, the tremor of your shoulders, the goosebumps on your arms.

Simon reluctantly pulls his fingers away only so you can answer. His wasn’t a rhetorical question, and by that blush on your cheeks and the embarrassed hint of a smile on your face, you’ve guessed it already.

"Not as sweet as I thought."

His lips twitch.

“No?” he asks, his voice much too broken for his liking. He brings those same fingers to his mouth and sucks, tasting your spit and your cum. A low rumble of a chuckle escapes him – must be a blue moon tonight. “I think you taste pretty sweet.”

This can go two ways: a fairy tale ending, like those romcoms you like to watch, or an absolutely dreadful one – in which you leave. And truly, Simon doesn’t believe in a higher power; God has abandoned him more times than he cares to count. However, he hopes that whoever’s up there realizes that he's owed big time for all the crap he’s been put through.

And he asks for nothing, but you.

His face is hot, and he gathers his cheeks might be a little pink. The rare sight must give you some comfort, the fact that he’s just as overwhelmed as you are, because he feels your leg relax in his lap.

You purse your lips to hide a bashful smile - as if you have any right to be coy right now. "Flatterer."

He hums, seemingly wanting to bite back at you but unable to find the spirit for it. His eyes rake over your body, from your flushed face to your chest covered by his tee, until they land on your quivering thighs, still splayed open for him.

For him.

His hand travels up your leg, following the same route that has led to this. When his palm finally cups your hip, his fingers curl at the waistband of your shorts and tug.

“C’mere.”

You do.

He sees you bend your knees and shift on the sofa so you can crawl to him on shaky legs. As the gentleman he never thought he’d be, he helps you swing your thigh over his own and deposits you in his lap with your knees on either side of his hips.

Afraid you might say something hinting at regret, he selfishly grabs your jaw and pulls you down, finally tasting you the way he’s always wanted. His lips mold with yours, and they’re so soft he has no business claiming them as his own. His fingers tilt your head so he can deepen the kiss, and only when he sees your eyes flutter closed through the slit of his eyelids, he allows himself to surrender to you.

Your lips peck the thin scar on his cupid’s bow, but before you can run away from him (as you should), he captures you once more. He never wants to let you go, so his tongue slides across the seam of your mouth, and you, so pliantly, oblige him.

Your hands are resting on his shoulders when the kiss starts tentatively, while his slender fingers follow the curve of your waist.

But then your nails dig at the fabric of his t-shirt, as if eager to rip it, and his palms journey to your rear. He grips at the flesh through your shorts, before shoving out of the way their distressed hem and directly groping the plump meat of your ass.

The two of you never part. If anything, everything gets more heated.

He doesn’t recall when it is exactly that you start grinding your hips, nor does he remember when his shirt was removed – whether you did it, or if he’s taken the matter into his own hands.

However, he does snap out of it when he feels your palms leave his shoulders to grasp at the hem of your tee. While he wants to feel his skin on yours as much as you do, what’s separating your chest from his is not a mere layer of cotton.

He pulls away and – to his pleasure – he sees you lean in to have more. His hand lands on yours, stopping you.

“No.”

He sees you blink, dazed. A myriad of emotions travel through that pinched expression you wear, thinking like usual that you’ve done something wrong.

He quells your fears in seconds, when his other palm skims over your arm. It journeys unhurriedly, leaving gooseflesh in its wake, until it lands at the base of your throat. His thumb brushes over its column, forcing your neck to tilt backwards and your back to arch, presenting your chest.

Simon models you like clay under his warm fingers, and he takes his time to drink you in and sculpt you as he wishes. Because you seem so docile now that his intents are less covert, clearer.

He brings his mouth to your throat, and his nose scrunches when he presses it against your neck, keeping you still with one thick arm around your waist. With sluggish movements, he tastes the salt of your skin and the tang left by your perfume.

Simon pulls back only to run his tongue from the hollow between your collarbones up to your jaw, feeling right under the muscle how your throat bobs when your breath lodges in between. He curves his head and digs his teeth into the plumper flesh on the side of your neck, enough to get a taste but not enough (never enough) to cause pain.

“Keep the shirt on.” He breathes against your skin, “I wanna fuck my name into you.”

And he does just that.

It’s effortless how he lifts you in his arms, guiding your ankles to lock at his tailbone. Clothes, both yours and his, freckle the floors in a trail that leads to his bedroom. He’s famished; there isn’t a single surface along the path he follows where he hasn’t placed you – if only to savor every piece of you for a little longer.

Until he has you on that bed, the one he should’ve gotten only for a few weeks and instead became his own alcove.

You look wonderful on it.

But you’re even more gorgeous when he sits at the edge of the mattress, facing the full-length mirror in his room, and places you on his thighs to straddle his lap – your back facing the reflection.

He runs his hands over your chest, riding up the t-shirt to your neck only so he can feast on your tits. Grabbing greedy handfuls of fat and muttering unintelligible praises when his mouth all but devours every inch – sucking on your puffy nipples and grazing his teeth around each peak.

Another if is answered by the whimper that escapes your kiss-bitten lips.

You look like an angel, when your soft hand goes to grab the base of his cock and, without much ceremony, you guide it inside of you – sinking on it easy and slow.

You feel like heaven, too, impaled on him. Perfect fit, always made for him, and him only.

Simon’s not sure what he did to deserve you, now riding his cock like you’d been deprived of it your whole life. Unbridled, free. You moan and groan without a care in the world, the hesitation he saw before vanished into thin air – and oh, he couldn’t be more grateful for it.

His hands curl at the hem of your (his, his, his) shirt, lifting it up slightly at your waist, only so he can see in the reflection how your ass slaps against his thighs each time you drop. Or, how your glutes clench when instead of trying to pleasure him, you please yourself – rolling your hips to grind your clit against his happy trail.

Simon’s hands leave the shirt only to grab more of you, kneading at your hips to guide your cunt down his cock until he has you filled to the brim. Your eyes roll back, breath stuck in that pretty throat of yours. He bites at it - laps at the skin like a starved dog.

Simon shattered his chains the moment you came undone on his fingers, and now he knows no restraint – not when he has you like this.

“Look at you,” he growls, slapping your ass only to watch how the fat ripples in recoil in your mirror image.

He grabs the back of your neck and tilts your head downwards. Your foreheads touch as he guides your eyes to look at where your bodies join. The foamy ring at the base of his cock, how the folds of your vulva hug around his shaft and tip at your unhooded clit, all puffy and red.

He tugs at your mound with his thumb, stretching the flesh to expose more. With a deliberate roll of his hips, he makes a show of how effortlessly his cock slides into you, how your cunt greedily stretches to welcome him whole. 

“Look at that.” His voice is equally as raspy as it’s enraptured. “Perfect.”

Using his hand on your nape, he angles your face to kiss you again. He thrusts into you only to have you part your lips in a stuttering moan, and he drinks it dry.

When you resume grinding your hips, he whispers in your open mouth, “Fuckin’ perfect.”

Simon sees how your thighs quiver under the strain of the effort, hamstrings taut and probably burning in the attempt to wrap around his hips. He won’t keep you like that for long, don’t worry. He’ll take good care of you, like he always has.

But now, he indulges in a selfish moment.

Spare seconds in which he watches your reflection bounce on him, and you’re too lost in the feeling to notice how his hooded eyes take in the view.

The profile of your face in the mirror (his little cherub), with your mouth parted and brushing against his temple as he nuzzles your shoulder through the fabric of the shirt. One hand ecloses his nape and your other palm is on his cheek, keeping his head close to your breathless lips. Your eyes are closed in bliss – lashes shy against your flushed cheekbones.

In the scantly lit room, the reflection in the mirror of you two is as dark as everything else, but the stark white writing on the back of your tee has never looked brighter. Your hair sways with your movements, and that RILEY that peeks through your locks has him impossibly enamored of you.

And you’re so smart, he thinks. So clever, because you know, even when your senses are clouded by euphoria and your eyes are closed. You know he’s never had a thing. You know that whatever he’s held, no matter for how long, has always slipped through his fingers before he could even get a taste of it.

“I’m yours,” you whisper in his ear.

And so, Simon surrenders. He’s at your mercy, you have his trust and whatever’s left of his heart – and he knows you won’t break either.

He helps you out of his t-shirt only to hold you bare against his chest. He brings you down with him, lavishes your skin with his palms and his lips. Nose buried in your hair, Simon breathes you in. The smell of sex and the smell of you and how it has him drunk when it whirlpools with his own – a new fragrance, one that burns itself into his brain with the threat (sweet promise) of never letting go.

Because he’s never had a thing, his name barely pertains to him anymore. But the moment he saw it on you, he finally realized where Simon Riley belongs.

[suiana]

Can I see ur take on a miserable Yan baby daddy (+miserable reader too)

(yandere! baby daddy x gn! afab reader) (sorry.. idk how to make reader miserable... mayb in another life... dies...)

"please please please please just one chance-"

he whines, hugging your feet as you try to leave his apartment. you merely grimace at him, trying to kick him away but to no avail.

you and him were once friends with benefits but unfortunately he had gotten you pregnant, leading you to ending things with him. you didn't want anything serious after all.

you told him you didn't want to see him anymore and that he should piss off. why would you want to remain in contact with someone who had a weak pullout game? that's just so stupid.

but he wasn't one to take no for an answer.

"please please please.... you can't just leave me! i sold everything to be with you!"

he cries, wetting your pants with snot and tears as he presses his face against the fabric of your jeans. you let out an annoyed 'tsk' trying to push his head away. god damnit, if he didn't let go you'd miss your flight!

"let go! i need to go to my flight!"

"no don't leave me!"

"shut up! i can't believe i even entertained you for so long! your flat is empty except for a bed and pictures of me!"

you hiss at the male, eyebrows furrowed as you hold your baby in your arms. damn it, you should've left him way earlier. he's not even rich! ugh, at least he's pretty. you've always had a thing for pretty boys.

your baby daddy sniffles, sobbing hysterically as he tries to beg you to stay with him. his eyes were glossed over, lower lip trembling as his cheeks flush a beautiful red hue.

damn it, damn him and his pretty face!

"please... i'll work 3 jobs if that's what you want! i'll win the lottery and give you a life of luxury! just don't leave me!"

his words were sincere, that much you knew. after all, he was so madly in love with you that he'd even accept being your friends with benefits just so he could feel like he was yours.

but it was just too much for someone that didn't want anything serious.

"ah!"

he whimpers as you kick him off and stomp out of his apartment. you still had a flight to head to. you couldn't be held up by him any longer. and your baby was starting to get annoyed by her dad.

"guh!"

"ah ah... okay baby, we're going now."

you coo at your baby as you drag your luggage out. aw, she's so pretty. must be because her daddy is pretty, she looks just like him after all.

leaving behind your pathetic baby daddy, you got into the cab you booked and didn't even as much as look behind.

"shit... shit they left... they actually..."

your baby daddy sobs into his hands again, sniffling and curling up into a ball on the floor of his barren apartment. no more you to brighten his life anymore, or his baby girl either.

the man sobs quietly, tears falling and wetting his eyelashes before he glares at your picture on the wall.

"just you wait... i'll get you back."

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: Who You'll Be In 10 Years

☣︎ "“The only limit to our realization of tomorrow will be our doubts of today.” – Franklin D. Roosevelt

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is a gender-neutral reading, change any pronouns to apply to you. Also, the tense changes from past to present to future, I hope this doesn't make the reading difficult.

Also! Thank you so much to everyone who put in a paid reading request, when my life stabilizes, those will be on the top of my priority list. <3

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

⚠︎ Pile One ⚠︎ (5oS rev., 5oP, 8oS)

You a decade from now (or less 👀) is not afraid to walk away from a motherfucker. Kudos to you!!! POP A BOTTLE. REJOICE! 🍾🍾

You have mastered prioritizing yourself and letting go of connections that violate your boundaries.  

I’m getting cat energy. Your self-concept is resolute, so you don’t care about others' perception of you. You’re willing to be seen as the “bitch” or selfish in situations because you refuse to become someone you’re not, to please another. 

Your young self would consider this a nightmare. Your upbringing has groomed you to put the interests and needs of others before your own. Disharmony and people disliking you cause you so much inner turmoil (I want to throw up channeling this energy, I’m getting it makes you physically ill) that you try to avoid those dark emotions by suppressing your own needs and desires to keep the group happy.

Being subservient and sacrificing parts of you became a survival tactic. It was so deeply ingrained in your self-concept; you desperately wanted to detach from it but feared hurting anyone or being seen as selfish in the process. 

This hesitancy to step on a few toes, which is an inherent requirement for elevating your own voice, gives you an illusion of being trapped and powerless against the will of others.

But baby… you ten years from now don't have time for the bullshit.

The energy here is refined; a quiet strength forged in darkness. This was not always your energy, you have some battle scars due to people-pleasing and learning the hard way that you can never satiate hunger in people who can never be full. 

This pile has seen their fair share of energy demons. I meant to write “vampires” but demons came out, this could be about energetic attacks (commonly manifesting as anxious thoughts and mental blocks that did not occur before you met them) and jealous energies around you that benefitted from you thinking less of yourself.

It took you some time to find the power in your “No” and staunchly protect it. There have been times when people have disrespected your no and remained in your energy for longer than they deserved to. That’s okay, forgive yourself. I promise it’s all a part of a greater journey for you to reclaim your power. 

The energy you call home ten years from now is a force to be reckoned with. The first card flip gave me chills, I was intimidated at first. 

You are becoming someone whom the world makes space for. By walking away from people who want to continuously fight and provoke you or drain your resources and energy, you are telling life, “I won’t put up with people who are trying to convince me to be the backseat passenger of my own life.”

You won’t feel like a suffering supporting character anymore, you’ll be the main character people are in awe of. 

Aries Northnode, Saturn, Pluto, Chiron 1st house, Mars or moon 7th house, Libra risings, Libra Mars, Libra Moon, Cancer Saturn, Cancer Mars, 6th house placements. 

Your dominant colors will be black, white, and grey. For my colorful folk, you’ll stay bright and eccentric but have stark contrasts of black either with your accessories, hair, or makeup (if you do it). Regardless of your height, you’ll appear taller with perfect posture. Your collarbone/shoulder area is accentuated and eye-catching. Your head is held high and your neck acts as your lion’s mane. 

Your words reverberate in the consciousness of others, you are unforgettable and your impact changes the course of the lives you interact with. You speak clearly (and at times bluntly), making your boundaries and identity unequivocal. Your voice deepens and honies with time, you are like a violin luring people to your cause. People will most compliment you on your aura and intimidating, yet magnetic presence.

I really want to emphasize the dark appearance here, it’s the classic dark feminine aesthetic with a mystical-witchy flair. I even see big hats, high boots, and round or oval glasses for some. 

The strength you cultivate is admirable and is your magnum opus. Keep creating your dream you, my love! MUAH 💋

A Vixen Born in the Shadows

⚠︎ Pile Two ⚠︎ (The Hermit, 4oW, Ace of Cups)

Ex-Factor by Ms. Lauryn Hill came on, the Angels aren’t playing. Sit down, I’m about to talk your ear off (lovingly <3)

Baby, you’ve been put through the emotional wringer. Mostly in your interpersonal connections and romantic relationships.

You’ve had a cycle of emotionally immature karmic partners that were meant to reflect the insecurities within you that blocked healthy unions from forming. You subconsciously did not feel worthy of a loving partner so you settled for people who were unable to love you more than their own self-interests. Most of your old connections were made through trauma bonds and fear of abandonment. 

(For some, I’m getting that your partners threatened to harm themselves or you threatened to harm yourself in case of a breakup)

Most people can’t relate to your depth. You crave a raw, soul-merging connection that can withstand you at your lowest, most difficult energy. There were moments when you either glorified or begrudgingly allowed “struggle love” because you believed that fighting, heartbreak, and being misunderstood were all a part of the “ride or die” package.

I’m giving a lil forehead kiss to my Scorpios and 8th Housers. And a winky wink to the Rohini and Jyeshta natives in the back. 

However, I’m getting a tinge of envy here. You believed that “kinks” (emotional abuse) in the relationship were natural and happened in every relationship, but when you saw couples online or in your environment, they seemed a lot healthier than yours. 

You weren’t in a clear headspace, so instead of realizing that your partner dynamic is unhealthy and harming you mentally and emotionally, you internalized it and bore the fault on your shoulders. Oh, those people have healthy relationships because they’re better than me and more attractive, I need to be better.

Listen to me when I say this, your love and devotion are worth more than struggle love, and toxic cycles. The best thing you could have done for yourself is exit these relationships stage left, IMMEDIATELY. 

And guess what Pile 2 in 10 years is doing??? EXITING THE MF STAGE AND ENTERING RELATIONSHIPS THAT SERVE THEM! YURR!

If you are currently in this cycle and fear that you aren’t capable of change and healthier connections, trust me you boss up and tell those doubts to shut the fuck up.

Love, you complete all the hard healing. You go through long periods of solitude, introspection, therapy, forgiveness (of yourself), and learning to be your own soul partner and it pays off!!! YOU turn into the one giving self-love and healthy relationship advice.

You’ve been through the ugly and the beautiful and know the trials of the self-hate to forgiveness journey like no other. You could have significant Jupiter placements, you got the guru card. The young grasshopper turns into the wise crane.

If you have dark circles under your eyes, your body language is sluggish, and you just look like life is whooping your ass, a decade from now you will look like… do you know those pictures of those really gorgeous cows?

Like??? Please tell me you get where I’m coming from. You’ll look well-nourished, taken care of, plump (explained briefly), and sitting pretty in your energy of known worth and inner fulfillment.

In Vedic astrology (I’m explaining this very plainly), Rohini natives represent the people whose life path is to obtain inner security and believe everything they desire can be birthed from the resources that come from them (plump). Their opposite, Jyestha represents inner emptiness and insecurity and the insatiable desire to fill that hole (hollow). 

Your hole is filled (pause) and you have turned your insecurities into strengths (which is very Jyesthan). This is confidence that can’t be faked or imitated and it’s beyond your wildest dreams. It’s well deserved! You birthed your ideal self-concept all by yourself, and that is no easy feat.

Maybe you have been jaded and swore off marriage, but “bad” news babe you’re marrying someone who adores, respects, and treats you like the soft, yet powerful force you are. 

You are very fucking happy, I’ve been cheesing and cracking jokes this entire reading. You are going to live a joyous, easygoing life full of reciprocal love and admiration. 

Physically, I’m not getting anything specific besides the clear image that you will look visibly abundant. A bright smile from ear to ear, cheek creases from happiness, clear skin, watery eyes, and you’ll smell like a rich bitch (that was a random message but it felt important).

I’ll close off with a tweet that I have been thinking about since the first card flip,

MUAH 💋

Her Heart is a Blossom of Flowers

⚠︎ Pile Three ⚠︎ (The Tower, 6oP, 10oC)

Staring at the blank page before you

Open up the dirty window

Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance

So close you can almost taste it

Release your inhibitions

FEEELLL THE RAAAINNN ON YOOOUURRR SKIIINNNNNN\!!!

Babe, you escaped from somewhere. Ran like the wind to your freedom. Similar to Pile One and a bit of Pile Two, you were enslaved to energies that were draining you. However, this energy is more restrictive. Some people had their autonomy stripped away and others had to sacrifice their desires for another’s sake.

I’m sensing a wound in how you perceive yourself, your skills, and your capabilities. The way you express yourself through your passions, your style, and how you speak feels restricted out of fear and overly controlled. A buried piece of you yearns for expression and attention, which you are well deserving of and more than capable of gaining fame for. Fear and anxiety had deluded you into thinking they were more powerful than you.

Yea, that shit is dead 10 years from now. LMAO. 

If you have big traveling plans or wish to permanently pack up and move to your dream location, it's happening. Have no doubt, you will not be stuck where you are forever. 

You were experiencing a debilitating mental feedback loop of wanting to live your life the way you desire and then halting those desires to help others. Buuuutttt, at some point from when you’re reading this to ten years from now, deception will be revealed to you and you’ll realize the people you are sacrificing your dreams for are undeserving of it. 

This will wake you up, breaking the loop and invigorating you to take the reigns of your own life because you’ll know that you can’t stop your motion so others don’t feel left behind.

You’ll reclaim your power over self-doubt and anxiety by choosing faith over fear. Faith in your ability to improve the skills you love and to strive for your dreams even if it scares you. With every fear you face, you’ll realize just how strong you are and get a rush from proving your old self wrong. All the things you believed you couldn’t do, you’re now breezing through and showing the public how its done.

Capricorns, Sagittarius, 2nd and 3rd housers (chiron counts), are getting a special shoutout here.

You will be recognized and adored. You are a star, through and through. Whatever empire you build will be so abundant that you will still be able to help people, but not at the expense of your own success.

Your biggest lesson is learning that you cannot help yourself or anyone for that matter if you are inhibitious and your own biggest naysayer. What do you gain from believing you can’t do something? Not a damn thing. Just frustration and regret. Start affirming that you can become everything you want to be until that self-concept replaces your thought patterns. You are a magnificent being capable of change and there is nothing between you and the life you want to live but your beliefs. 

You feel so complete and whole ten years from now. You literally got the ten of cups AND the completion-360 oracle. It must be emphasized that the life behind the veil of fear is one of prosperity, abundance, and unwavering joy. Just go for it, my love! You cannot lose. You only lose if you stay where you are (which you won’t). 

Puff your chest out with pride and tell those bitchass fears and doubts to go play with gnats their own size. They don’t want to fight a big dawg like you, pookie 😩😩.

In ten years, I’m getting an office-vixen aesthetic or business chic. Women will always have heels on and men will always find an occasion to wear dress shoes that boost their height a bit. Tight pencil skirts. Suits. Blazers. Capes. Watches. Trench Coats. All that jazz.

MUAH💋

Fear Crumbles at The Feet of A Bad Bitch

⚠︎ Pile Four ⚠︎ (Ace of Wands, The Hermit, 5oW)

Initial Impression: In ten years, you are not afraid to whoop somebody’s ass. I Bet U Won’t by LeVel and Mouse on da track started playing. 

I’m sensing tense home energy here. You did not have to do much to be blamed or antagonized for something. You were treated like a black sheep, scapegoated, abused, and expected to take it. If you lashed out in defense, your attackers would take that as an opportunity to paint you as aggressive, a difficult child, or “unsafe”. This could’ve been with friendships too. 

My heart is racing right now, in the middle of channeling, a helicopter flew over the neighborhood and told everyone to lock all their entrances and stay inside. I feel like you have spent a huge chunk of your life on edge? Your environment prevented you from safely regulating your nerves and you were never able to feel comfortable anywhere. If your home was not explicitly violent, there was mental warfare that prevented your home from ever feeling like home.  

Half the people in this pile experienced the opposite. Everyone else in the house was constantly fighting and belligerent and you stayed meek, quiet, and in your room to create some sense of safety.

For some, it's a mix of both. 

Any power that could have been used to stand up or protect yourself was diffused by parental figures or fake friends. The global lockdown was especially difficult for you and trapped you within the tension of the house. For others, I see that this hermit phase lasted beyond the pandemic and maybe even prior. 

This is the only pile where I know the transition is happening before the 10-year mark. With all of this fire and solar plexus energy, one day (soon) you will be sparked with the bravery to become your own hero. 

You’re removing yourself from a toxic environment and you’re going out SWINGING. Windmilling, even!

That’s not to say that this is all on a whim and impulsive. Oh no no no. You are calculated and pushing forward with careful preparation and a solid plan. If you want to move out, you’ll have the place planned out, your transportation, your food for the next 6 months, and a job lined up.

If this is simply about pursuing your dreams in an environment that wants to squash them, you’re moving in silence and getting all of your ducks in a row so when the time comes, you can chuck the deuces up and never see those people again.

(if you feel guilty about wanting to cut off family members, don't. You must feel confident in the decision to prioritize your health and safety.)

YOU’RE ‘BOUT BIG MF BUSINESS.

In a world where you have never known peace, you will be creating a life of harmony and ease for yourself, and you have every right to be proud of that. That is a generational weight that you let go of, your spirit team and ancestors celebrate your strength and vitality. 

You got some crazy repetition with my Oracle deck. You got “Golden Gift”, “Golden Retriever”, the cards fell in a white-orange color pattern, and you have all this wand (fire) energy. You are a firing supernova, the flame within is what will pioneer you to victory. 

This is another tale for the ages—your story will be told far and wide, inspiring boys and girls who dream of a savior to become their own saving grace.

You’ll definitely have a long-lasting red hair phase or you’ll have an affinity for the colors red and gold in ten years. 

You’ll be healthily competitive. You will have an established workout regimen and do at least one recreational active hobby (soccer, hiking, MMA and swimming were of note). You’ll even be competitive at karaoke night.  

There are some bodybuilders in this collective. If you’re a woman and want to lift but fear looking “bulky”, you’ll overcome it and fall in love with your muscular physique. There is an accentuation of your butt, shoulders, back, and abs. You’ll look physically imposing and command respect and attention, but welcoming to all. I see children running to your side for safety. 

Go and be great my lil firecracker!! MUAH 💋

God's Golden Gift is a Brave Woman

[pearlymel]

Make up— Alhaitham

*･゜ﾟSummery : Alhaitham chased after you because he refuses to leave unresolved issues between you, talking it out in his house can't be the worst idea, right?

Wc : 2.4k

Warning(s) : NSFW, fem!reader, exes to lovers, reader has committment issues, biting, unprotected sex, ōral (m! recieving), cūm swallowing, creampie, it's sweet and he's needy, petname mentioned (sweetheart).

Notes : someone get this man out of my head smh.

It was a cowardly act, really. How you ran away in the middle of breaking up with your boyfriend—well, ex boyfriend now. If he even got the message and was not left confused with a hurricane swirling his head with different emotions all at once.

You never wanted to break up with him in the first place, you were ignorant to his feelings. Overall sensitive to everything. You think the scribe deserves better than what you have to offer because you are afraid of commitment.

Alhaitham thinks he caught a glimpse of your face and figure among the crowd. And his body immediately goes on flight mode.

Eyes rapidly looking around the crowd, unable to focus on how busy it was today. He can't even remember why today has to be so busy out of all the days, then it clicked.

Sabzeruz festival was around the corner.

Alhaitham pushes past the people, his eyes searching around him for any sign of you at all, but he doesn’t see you. He starts moving a little faster, a little more impatiently.

“Move.” He nearly growls lowly when someone is in his way, pushing past them and looking around some more, ignoring the curses being thrown at the scribe.

Where are you, where are you?

There.

There you were. Standing next to one of the stalls to buy yourself a cold drink for this hot weather. Looking completely unbothered, yet he could clearly see how swollen your under eyes looked.

After a moment, he finally starts to approach you, his eyes fixated on you, unable to look away even for a second.

He stops next to you, standing right beside you and so incredibly close. He can smell the flowery scent of your perfume, and he’s so close he can practically touch you, but Alhaitham doesn’t dare to move.

You don't notice the man next you who's suspiciously close right away, but when you do turn your head to your side. A gasp leaves your lips and your drink instantly drops from your hand, his own hand acted on it's own, grabbing your wrist to pull you back. To prevent from the liquid to splash all over you.

"Careful." He gently scolds you, yet his hand is slightly shaking from feeling your skin against his. It was always comforting.

"Alhaitham?" He feels how your fingers tremble under his touch, and he feels how you look around, probably searching for a way to get away from him. Again.

“I just want to talk.” he states, his voice a soft, gentle tone that belies how he actually feels.

He’s itching to pin you against the nearest wall and tell you all the things he’s been thinking so hard about, but he controls himself.

"We already talked."

“You ran.” He replies back in disagreement, his voice a tone rougher than he intended it to be. He takes a deep breath before he continues, hoping you would notice the pain behind his words.

“We can’t keep going in circles like this, we need to talk this out properly.”

You only sigh back, your gaze shifting down to your feet. "We already broke up."

Oh he’s about to snap. He’s about to rip his goddamn hair out.

“We didn't break up.” He huffs out, and his tone is harsh and frustrated because he still refuses to believe that you don’t want him to be a part of your life anymore.

“You’re the one who ran away.”

"I get it, I'm a coward."

Archons, he hates the way you keep belittling and insulting yourself. Alhaitham can feel the anger and frustration beginning to build in him, but he’s trying his best to keep his voice level and not to start yelling at you in the middle of the market.

“Stop that, please." He begs you in a pleading tone, the pads of his thumb rubbing slow circles around your wrist.

“You’re not a coward, so stop calling yourself one.”

"I ran instead of fixing things. What do you call that?" You hiss at him, but there you go again, being overly sensitive and insulting yourself at every inconvenience.

"... Sorry."

His grip on your hand slightly tightens when you try to apologize, and he has to fight back a sigh before he can force himself to answer.

“I’d call it a ‘poor coping mechanism’.” He replies, his tone flat and almost sarcastic.

You look up at him apologetically, He can see that you’re about to say it again, but thankfully, you bite down on your tongue to keep yourself from doing so. And he’s a little grateful, he doesn’t know how much more he can take.

Alhaitham sighs in exhaustion, and he reaches up a hand to run it through his hair before he speaks again.

“We need to talk. Not here, somewhere.. private.”

Private. Surely private meant some secluded corner or outside where no people would be close enough to listen?

So why were you in his home? With Him hugging you so tightly from behind because he misses you?

“Don’t move.” He lowly mumbles against your hair when he feels you trying to wiggle away.

He squeezes his arms around your body, pulling you even closer against his chest, as close as he physically can, like he’s trying to meld your bodies together completely.

"I hurted you, didn't i?"

He lets out a low huff in your hair at your statement, a soft yet bitter sounding laugh. It hurts more than he’d like to admit, because you did hurt him, deeply.

“Yes.” He replies truthfully, not making any effort to lie to you. “You left and it hurt.”

It’s like a dream, like a vision, having you so close again after days of solitude and loneliness. After hours and days of missing you.

He takes in every feature of your face when he turns you around to face him, every inch of your eyes, your nose, your lips. The shape and contour of your face is etched into his head, all memorised. and he can’t get enough of it, and he wants so badly to pull you into another one of his bone-crushing hugs again.

"I'm sorry for hurting you. I never intended to break up." Your hand lifts up to brush the strands of grey hair away from his eyes before gently holding one side of his face.

"I swear." You look at him with determination, then you remember the words he wants to hear so badly.

"You're my lover," you say, "i need you in my life."

Alhaitham leans down to bury his face into the crook of your neck, and he just breathes in the familiar scent of your skin again. So impossibly relieved that you’re here in his arms again.

"Will you forgive me?"

“Can you promise me that you won’t run away again if we have a fight?” His hands start trailing up the length of your back, the tips of his fingers tracing the bumps of your spine as he speaks, his lips moving against the skin of your neck with every word.

“Don’t run away, talk to me. We’ll talk, and we’ll come up with a solution together.”

"Mhm, i promise." He feels you melt into his embrace, completely surrendering yourself under his touch, and he lets himself revel in the feeling of his body pressed against yours once again. It’s like his brain went completely empty of any thoughts, just leaving pure contentment and a feeling of comfort behind. And so, he lets his body do the thinking for him.

Alhaitham grabs a hold of your thighs in one strong grip, and he lifts you, effortlessly hoisting you up into his arms, and you gasp.

He hoists you up against his chest until your legs are wrapped around his hips, one of his arms curled around your thighs, and the other under your ass, supporting your weight as he starts carrying you to the bed.

One of your hands grabs at his shoulders to keep your balance, and he can’t resist smiling a little when he sees the surprised look on your face.

“Don't worry.” He reassures you, he reaches the bed with several long strides, and his grip around your thighs tightens as he lays you down on the mattress.

"I want to make it up to you," you look at him through half-lidded eyes the moment you lay down, your knee attempting to slowly rub at his growing erection, earning a hiss from him.

"Y-you don't have to, i was just planning that we cuddle—"

"Then why are you hard?" You see how his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows thickly, and he avoids your gaze shyly.

He sits on his knees above you as he watches how your start unzipping his pants, urging him to come closer until his knees were at the sides of your head as you're met with his leaky tip face to face.

It's intimidating, you forget just how big he was. You gently wrap a hand around the base, giving the tip a few kitten licks before your lips grip him snugly and your tongue flicks against the underside of his cock, coaxing low curses from the Scribe.

He can't look down, he doesn't want to. Your expressions gets him off so fast everytime, and when you cough, he involuntarily grips your hair, although still careful to not pull so harshly even when be wanted to so bad.

Alhaitham’s need increases, so is his pace. The desire to cum growing more and more insistent. He bites his lower lip, his grip on your head tightening. “Goddammit,” he manages to groan, head thrown back with his expression all fucked out as he thrusts slowly into your mouth. He brings a fist to cover his mouth to prevent himself from whimpering, to prevent himself from panting so needly like a dog,

“You’re going to make me cum.” You're doing good, better than good, he doesn’t want to rush, but he can feel the implosion building. It's about to go off, and there’s no stopping it.

But when he feels you suck him so eagerly, it makes him part his lips to moan with his eyes closed, grabbing a fistful of your hair and thrusting into your throat greedily to chase his orgasm, the vibrations of your moans is what makes Alhaitham's try to pull out from your mouth, but your tight hold around him makes him fail to do so before he spilled all of his spent into your tongue.

Although he was quick to pull out after, grabbing a tissue from the bedside drawer for you to spit out.

But when you gulp it all in front of him, his eyes widen, the tissue almost slipping from his hand. He doesn’t know what to say or feel, "You didn't have to," He wipes the corner of your lips with the tissue, dabbing your lips clean.

"i love you." You utter out, looking like an absolute angel right before his eyes. "I love you," he repeats back, pecking your lips before pushing you back gently on the bed, prying your legs apart.

Your pants and panties were quick to be discarded to the side, he stares at your entrance, wet, inviting, and a little intimidated by the size he's about to shove inside.

He gently strokes your inner thighs, kissing your outer folds, tasting your arousal, while his thumb rubs circles around your clit. He hums when you gasp, when both of your gazes meet and all he sees his eagerness in your eyes.

Your body squirms, urging him to take you, spearing that tightness with his girth. But he's patient. Oh, how patient he is. Or trying to be, at least.

Alhaitham lines himself up with your hole, and as he looks down at you, you can see the yearning, the want, the need in his eyes.

He keeps a tight hold on your thighs as he slowly, deliberately sinks into you, watching the arch of your back, listening to the low, whimpering sounds escaping your lips.

His mouth is on your neck and collarbone, nipping, kissing, leaving marks of his claim on your skin, "missed my girl,"

Your body is tight around him, and it's not easy, but the Scribe has no intention of stopping until he's had his fill. The gasps and whimpers of discomfort, the pleasure that comes after, the lust—it’s all music to his ears.

"I-i've missed you too."

Alhaitham watches as you cling to him, the words you say stirring something in him. He hands grip on your hips now, and he can't help but smile into your neck.

He's thrusting into you deeper, the feeling of your tightness around him driving him wild. It's a sweet, torturous dance you both share. Every time he thrusts, he's sure to hit the right spot, making you moan and squirm.

He lifts his head to kiss you, kissing you with fervor, his tongue dueling with yours. He could taste the bitter remnants of himself on your tongue, but he wants to taste you, feel your pleasure, and with the way your walls are clenching around his cock, he won't have to wait much longer.

Alhaitham's thrusts become faster, harder, and he can feel the familiar heat building. His hand leaves your hip, and his fingers find your clit in a synchronization of the cries of his name. He's determined to make you come.

"Cum for me, sweetheart," he growls into your ear. "Let me feel it." He wants to watch you unravel in his arms, to see the expression on your face.

And you do, almost instantly, it makes your eyes roll back to the back of your head as you hold onto him while thrusting your hips back into him.

Not long after, he couldn't hold back any longer. It’s too much, the tightness around his cock, the sight of your body trembling beneath him, the taste of your lips, the scent of you. He explodes, filling you up, his seed a testament to the pleasure he’s found.

He collapses on top of you, panting, his heartbeat racing. The room is filled with the sound of their ragged breathing, and in that moment, there’s nothing but the two of them, basking in their shared pleasure.

After a while, Alhaitham slowly pulls out of you, his eyes hold yours, the two of you naked and tangled, laying in sweat. He moves his body off yours to clean you both up. He’ll make some tea, something to calm your nerves, then you'll talk for real this time.

[izzyy-stuff]

𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐃 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

choi soobin x afab!reader

summary: After you found out the smarty-pants in your class was in love with you you thought it would be fun to play around with him a bit, but things take a wrong turn when he is the only one you can text when you are horny and he doesn't hesitate and runs to you, making you feel better than any of your ex boyfriends could.

words count: 3.9k

warnings: smut content, she/her pronouns used twice (in the texting part) sorry 🙏, oral, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex (don't!!), cum eating, gentle sex, idk tbh

You glanced to your side, watching the black-haired boy on the other side of the classroom as he wrote down some notes. If you were to be honest, you weren’t paying any attention to what the teacher was saying, so you had no idea what he was writing down either. But it didn't matter anyway, you knew he would let you copy his notes later. 

It was one of the perks of having the class’s smarty-pants be in love with you. You chuckled when you saw him look your way too, smiling at him before you turned away again. 

“What's going on there?” The black-haired girl next to you asked, her eyebrow raised as she pointed at the male on the other side of the class. “Why do you two keep stealing glances at each other?” 

“You know Yeonjun, right?” You asked, watching as the girl next to you nodded. “Who doesn't,” your best friend scoffed. “What does he have to do with anything?” 

“Well, he is the one that told me last week our little nerdy here has a crush on me. It all makes sense now if you think about it. I couldn't wrap my head around why he would always send me the lesson notes when I asked for them but not to others. I told Ryan he could ask Soob because I thought he wouldn't have any problems with it, but it turns out he only sent them to me to get me to like him, or something,” You explained, watching as your best friend laughed quietly. 

“It's kind of cute though that he does that.” 

“But I don't want ‘cute’ anymore,” you rolled your eyes. “I want someone who can actually make me cum and not just stare at me questioning why I wouldn't finish as if he even tried.” 

“Okay, I know the last boy was a fail as fuck, literally, but who knows,” the black-haired girl shrugged. “You want to tell me you think he of all people could make me cum?” You scoffed. “Please, he probably hasn't fucked a girl in his life.” 

You said that, but God, you had no idea what was coming your way. 

“Who are we gossiping about?” You turned as you heard the male’s voice, scoffing at how needy he was for the tea. “No one,” you shook your head. “Your rival,” your best friend grinned, answering instead when you didn’t do so. The blond boy scoffed, looking at the black-haired boy. “Oh yeah, I am so sure he didn’t fuck a girl - or anyone else - in his life,” he agreed. 

“I am pretty sure I’ve been with a girl more times than he has,” Ryan next to him nodded, joining their conversation. “Kinda crazy,” you commented, laughing. Before you could say anything else, you were stopped by the teacher hitting the board with his hand, making you look his way. “As I was saying,” he started his speech again, giving you a warning look before he turned around, facing the board again so he could write down a few things. 

Your head fell on the table soon after out of boredom, and before you could even start paying attention to what the teacher was talking about, the bell rang, announcing the end of the lesson. 

“Okay, guys, who is coming with me to grab lunch?” Your best friend turned towards you and the two boys behind you. “I am passing,” you mumbled immediately, not even fully sitting up and simply turning your head towards her. “I am going,” Ryan proclaimed, already standing up from his place, the blond following him right after. 

“Okay, I see you guys later, then,” you smiled at them, waving them off as they left the classroom. You knew you should get up too and move to your next class, but you were starting to feel unwell, and the thought of getting up sounded terrible. You sighed, closing your eyes for a few seconds. You knew this classroom was empty for another hour or so anyway. 

“Hey, are you alright?” You opened your eyes again upon hearing the soft voice and feeling the tap on your shoulder, blinking a few times to make your eyes focus again. “Mhm, sure I am,” you mumbled, sitting up straight as you looked around. The class was empty by now, only the two of you were left there. “Why? Were you worried about me?” You chuckled, teasing him. Suddenly, it was as if your headache completely disappeared when you saw the nervous look on his face. “Relax, I am joking,” you shook your head, but couldn’t hide your smile. 

“I don’t want to annoy you,” you started, slowly packing your stuff as he stood beside you, waiting like a puppy. “But do you think you could give me today’s notes, Soob?” 

“You-” he gulped, trying to ignore the nickname. There was simply something about you calling him Soob. “I don’t want it for free though. You could consider it as me owing you one and helping you when you’d need it?” You suggested as you stood up, grabbing your now packed bag. “Uhm, sure,” he nodded, not even paying full attention to what you were saying. 

“I’ll text you tonight about the notes then,” you beamed happily, looking like a completely different person as you placed your hand on his arm as a sign of thank you. You were devastated minutes ago, but whoever would see you now wouldn’t believe him if he told them so. Soobin wasn’t sure why, but he was glad you looked fine again. 

Soobin threw his bag on the side of his room, jumping into his bed immediately after the long day. He laid down on his back, simply staring at the ceiling of his room. He reached into his pocket for his phone, seeing two unread messages from his best friend. He opened his phone, staring at the two texts. “Look at Instagram” “Thank me later” There wasn’t much for him to question. Even though to many it might seem confusing, he knew exactly whose Instagram he should check. There was only one person that the two of them talked about together after all. 

The black-haired male clicked on the icon, waiting for the story to load for a second. Then his eyes widened at the sight. It was a picture of you, but not just any picture. He sat up immediately, looking properly at your body. You were wearing a white top, cropped slightly above your waist. He couldn’t help but notice you weren't wearing a bra underneath, your nipples showing through the fabric. Then he saw the black miniskirt, that you definitely pulled higher than you should. He gulped, remembering how you touched his arm earlier today, your fingers brushing on his skin as your hair fell in front of your face. 

He whined silently as he felt his boxers becoming tighter the more he stared at the picture, your body curves exposed for anyone to see. He shared the story with Yeonjun, his best friend, and immediately texted him how good you looked. 

Only, did he not know it wasn’t Yeonjun he shared the story to.  

Soobin stared at the messages, screaming as he turned his phone off faster than ever before. He couldn’t believe it. He just told you he needed you. There wasn’t anything worse that could be happening at the moment. Not to mention the image of your body was still stuck in his head, making him hard. 

He stared at the messages again, his heart fighting with his brain at that moment. He didn’t want to make you do anything, he felt like it would be too forced, even though you were the one suggesting it. But a part of him knew this was his only chance. There was no way he could get you differently. He knew about your dating history, so he also knew you had never been with anyone like him. It was always the boys like Yeonjun, who just understood how to talk to girls properly, how to make them fall for them. But he wasn’t like that, he had no idea what he was doing. 

And just like that, he was in front of your place, rethinking his decisions as he knocked on the front door, trying his best to ignore the boner in his pants that still hadn’t gone down. How could it be when you shared a picture like that with him?

“You came,” you mumbled as you opened the door, looking up at him. Soobin looked down on you, noticing the same top you had in the Instagram picture. He gulped, his eyes then falling on the bottom part of your body and the white panties that were the only thing you were wearing. “How could I not?” He whispered, making sure this picture would stay in his mind. 

You grabbed his hand as you took him inside, closing the door behind you immediately. It was only now that you noticed how big his hands were against yours. You just hoped he could use them too. 

Soobin blindly followed you to your bedroom, his mind full of thoughts about how he should go about this, while his eyes were stuck on your ass, unable to look away as you walked in front of him. 

“Can I-” he started as his eyes followed you while you sat on your bed. “You can do absolutely anything, Soob,” you interrupted him, watching as his face turned red. “Soob? Soobie?” You smirked, noticing what the nicknames did to him. “Is that what turns you on?” 

“Everything about you turns me on,” he admitted, slowly getting closer to you while you moved back, not taking your eyes off him. You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t. You simply bit your bottom lip as you found him above yourself, holding eye contact. This was becoming more intimate than you thought it would. 

“Is it okay for me to kiss you?” He wanted to assure himself one more time. You thought about it for a second, not wanting to give him any hope, but also desperately needing his lips on yours. You nodded to him in the end, grabbing the collar of his shirt and bringing him closer to yourself, pressing your lips on his, your mouth slightly opened which only made it easier for him. 

His right hand found its way to your boob, carefully sliding under your top, his cold fingers brushing over your nipple. You groaned into the kiss, clenching around nothing but thin air. It felt pathetic. He had barely touched you and you were already getting wet. 

Soobin left your mouth for a second, getting a disagreeing whine immediately that made him smile as he started placing wet kisses all over your neck, slowly moving down to your collarbone and then between your boobs. Your lips parted as you breathed out from the pleasure, raising your head to look at him. “Mhm, take it off,” you whispered, your hand reaching for his sleeve. He didn’t hesitate for a second and listened to you, taking his shirt off while you took down your own, exposing your breast to him completely. 

“Fuck,” he groaned at the sight, feeling more and more uncomfortable in his sweatpants. He ran his fingers through his hair, looking at your body one more time before his lips found their way to your breast again, his hand cupping one of them as he pressed kisses on your other boob, his tongue making wet circles around your nipple. 

“Fuck,” it was you groaning this time, quiet moans escaping your lips as your nipples became hard at his touch. “Soob, please,” you whined, throwing your head back into the pillow. “Please, what? Hm?” He asked, not even looking up and just continuing what he had been doing until now, his lips moving down again, leaving wet traces on your stomach now as his hands found their way to your waist. “I don’t know. Just- fuck,” you moaned out again when you felt his lips on your clit through your panties. 

“Just?” He asked again, looking up at you. You could swear you had never seen anything better in your life. The male was in between your legs, his breath landing right on your clit as he looked at you, absolute need in his eyes. 

“Just fuck me already,” you begged, watching as he took down your panties, his eyes fixated on your already leaking pussy. “I don’t think so,” he informed you, moving up again so he would face you. “I doubt you could take it just like that,” he whispered, moving his fingers to your lips. You didn’t need to hear anything else and immediately opened your mouth, sucking on his fingers. 

Before you could even register his actions you felt him slowly inserting his two fingers into you, carefully watching you. He did so to make sure he was doing everything right. You weren't completely wrong when you said he probably hasn’t been with a girl in his life. He couldn’t say he would have much experience, but all of his friends were sex addicts - and now he could finally see why - and they couldn’t keep their mouths shut every time the topic came up, so it was only natural for Soobin to catch on to a few things. 

You gasped, your eyes rolling back. You knew there was an obvious difference in your hand sizes but god, his fingers were bigger than you thought. “Fuck, curl them now,” you commanded, not daring to look down. He did as you said, feeling his precum on his boxers. He wanted nothing more but to fuck you right then and there, but he knew he had to wait. 

It didn’t take much longer for you to squirm on his fingers, especially after he added pressure to your clit too, his thumb making slow circles around while his fingers were stretching your inside. 

“Can I eat you out, please?” He asked, looking up at you again, his thumb still rubbing your clit slowly. “Please, y/n,” he begged, making you go crazy. You weren't sure if it was the way he begged you, the way he said your name, or because of his breath on your skin, but you couldn’t say no to him even if you wanted to. “God, please do,” you whined out and just like that, his tongue was pressed on your pussy right away, not wasting any second of the time he had with you. 

It had been months since you had cummed thanks to a boy, so you didn’t have any expectations for him when you invited him over. But you were wrong when you thought no boys knew how to take care of their girls anymore because he did exactly what he should, making you cum on his tongue a few minutes after he went down on you, not leaving your trembling cunt even then, letting you ride out your orgasm as his nose was pressed on your clit, his tongue carefully licking every last bit of your cum. 

“Soob,” you groaned, pulling his hair, making him finally raise his head and look at you. “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he mumbled, going up again to kiss you. “And delicious,” he informed you, pressing his lips on yours. “Fuck, Soob, you’re too good,” you mumbled before you kissed him again, slowly sitting up. “Come closer,” you said, grabbing the hem of his pants, and pulling him closer at the same time. 

He groaned, his eyes shut tight, his lips unable to stay away from yours. You smirked into the kiss, your hand grabbing his trembling cock over his pants, making him moan. “I don’t usually do this but…” you started, breaking your kiss so you could look at his body properly. “You were so good earlier,” you praised him, not breaking your eye contact as you changed your position so you would be kneeling. “Pants off, baby,” 

That alone was enough to make him go crazy. You calling him baby just did something with his head. And with his dick. 

“Fuck,” You breathed out when you finally pulled down Soobin’s pants and boxers, your pussy clenching around nothing again. You knew he would be bigger because of his height, but this was more than you had expected. 

He cupped your cheeks, making you look up at him. “Are you sure?” You chuckled, simply nodding. “I can take good care of you too, you know,” you proclaimed, looking up at him as your right hand wrapped around his cock, not breaking your eye contact. You knew it must have been making him go insane. 

You started slowly, simply kissing his tip and licking off his precum. Then, you decided to try to take his full length into your mouth, but stopped shortly after getting to his half, already feeling like you were going to gag any second. There was no way you could do this. 

However, Soobin saw it differently. To him, it looked like you were playing with him, moving slowly and carefully on purpose to tease him. His hand found its way to your head, carefully tugging the hair that was getting in front of your face behind your ears before he held your chin up, making you look at him, his dick still in your mouth. “Think you can go faster, pretty? Please,” He asked, hoping maybe begging would help him. 

He groaned when he felt you suck harder, trying to go faster too but failing miserably. He chuckled at the sight, his hand in your hair so he could control the speed himself. “If you want to stop, just punch me, or something, okay? Try not to bite my dick off if you can’t take it anymore, though,” he told you, and before you could even look up at him again and question what he was talking about, he was moving with your head on his own as if you were just a toy to fulfill his needs. If you were honest, you were glad he did so. It was turning you on more. 

“Fuck, just a bit more,” he moaned out, thrusting his hips into your mouth as you sucked on him. He didn’t dare to look at you just yet, he felt like he would stop if he saw you in the moment, scared he might have been hurting you by determining his speed. 

When Soobin finally looked at you there were tears in your eyes, and his cum was all over your mouth. He cupped your cheeks, wiping the tears from your eyes with his thumbs. “Sorry,” he mumbled. You looked up at him, high on all the pressure you felt until now thanks to him. God, you knew you needed to do this more often from now on. You licked the corner of your mouth, making sure not a single drop was wasted. 

“You’re not done yet, are you?” You asked, your puppy eyes almost making him cum again right away. “Fuck, no I am not,” he answered, leaning down to you to kiss you again. 

Soon after, Soobin found himself sitting on the edge of your bed, his back pressed against the white walls while you sat on him, your head on his shoulder, biting into his skin so you wouldn’t get too loud as he fucked you. Holding your ass, he was helping you remain at the same speed, moaning along with you. “So close, Soob,” you cried out. “Hold in a bit more,” he whispered, closing his eyes as he felt himself getting closer to finishing again, too. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out, a mixture of your own and Soobin’s cum leaking from your pussy. You raised your head slowly, your cheeks completely red as you looked into his eyes, still sitting on his cock. “Soob, this was the best sex I’ve ever had. God, you were so good.” He bit onto his bottom lip, watching your fucked out face. “Oh, yeah?” He asked, even more embarrassed than you were. “Does that mean you’ll let me fuck you again next time?” 

“Soob…” you mumbled, just watching him for a second before you carefully got off him. He just shook his head before you could say anything else. “I know, I know, don’t worry,” he muttered. “I still needed to try it,” he smiled awkwardly, his dimples being the cutest thing you had ever seen. “Let me help you clean yourself up before I leave. It's the least I can do,” He suggested. You nodded to him, convinced this was the last time you were together like this. You couldn't be more wrong though. 

You knew you couldn’t stay away from him for too long when he helped you to get into your bathroom and his fingers found their way to your clit again, making you melt at his touch. Even worse was when he carried you to your bed after he switched your bedsheet for you, asking you to let him eat you out one more time before he would leave you alone for good. 

You just couldn’t let him get away. 

“Fuck, Soob,” you mumbled, sitting on the edge of your bed, watching him kneeling in front of you, begging to feel your squirm on his tongue again. “You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?” His innocent eyes looked up at you, his hands rubbing your thighs. You sighed, “Just stay here.” 

You could swear you saw sparks in his eyes as the words left your mouth. “Really? Can I?” 

You nodded, agreeing. “Sleep here tonight, I’ll let you eat me out again next time.” 

Soobin smiled proudly, his hands squeezing your thighs. “Only next time?” 

“God, just come here,” you proclaimed, pulling him up from the floor into a warm kiss, feeling his hands roaming on your body again. The night was still nowhere to be done.

[timewillpasssoon]

hiii can you write a joost x female reader angst? they argue, he yells/says some mean stuff but it ends in fluff? 🫶

HOW COULD YOU?

pairing . Joost Klein x fem!reader

content . angst, the dutch in this is from google translate so if its bad lmk, mentions of yelling, insults, stress, alcohol, eurovision disqualification, fluff at the end

summary . when joost urges you to leave the house on a cold night, he starts to regret not opening up to you in the first place.

word count . 1.2k words , 6.5k characters

author's note . quick question, are y'all interested in nsfw? just wondering, if so send some ask.

You and Joost stood in the middle of the living room, tension crackling in the air, geting thicker and thicker as time passes by. His words cut through you like a knife, each one sharper than the last. For the past hour you've been trying to get Joost to eat and open up.. He would turn away and say he's not hungry. He'll say he's not hurting. He lies through his teeth, he was hungry and in pain, desperate need of help. So why doesn't he want it You? You tried to get him to open up to you, but you just couldn't. Everytime an attempt was made, he would slightly raise his voice.

Then finally, he yelled, his voice rising in frustration. Your eyes welled up with tears as you tried to hold back your own anger. "I'm your girlfriend, liefde! I'm here when you need someone to lean on!" You wanted to scream it out, yet it came out as a whisper, your voice cracking with emotion. He scoffed, his anger still beneath the surface.

"Well I don't need you! I am perfectly fine, there is nothing we need to talk about!"

"Can you atleast eat!?"

"For crying out loud I'm not hungry! Just stop being such a bitch."

The argument escalated, each word a dagger aimed at your heart. Joost's voice echoed off the walls, the last word hanging on your brain.

"You just don't get it, do you?" You looked at him in the eyes, rage and empathy were the only two things you could feel. "You clearly are in pain because of the disqualification! Just talk to me- we've been dating for 2 years, for crying out loud! Yet you still can't tell me your problems? Wat een man ben jij." (What a man you are.)

"You can't keep pretending like everything's okay when it's not!" Tears stung your eyes as you struggled to find what words to say.

"I thought we could work through this together." You uttered out, your voice trembling. Joost shook his head. "I don't know if we can," he admitted. He looked down, slowly then turning to the front door. "You should go."

You shake your head, words can't come out your mouth. Your tongue is tied together and you don't know if you can untie it. "Joost- please."

"I said get out. Ik wil je niet zien." (I don't want to see you.)

Your heart was throbbing so fast it felt louder than him,.Joost is staring at the front door then turns to you, red puffy eyes with baby tears coming out from both eyes. His blonde hair was a mess. It was covering most of his eyes but you can still see the pain in them.

"Prima." (Fine.) You take big steps yet they feel like your still miles away from your destination. You go to open the front door, "I hope you come to your senses."

Those were the last words he heard from you. Before you walked out. It's been two hours since you left his house...

and frankly, he's scared. He kicked you out in the middle of the night. It was eight pm when he demanded you to leave and with each second goes by, its past ten.

He calls you, he leaves voicemails, texts messages.

Still nothing. Checked social media and there was still nada.

God he felt awful, the worst boyfriend in the world. All of this happened because he didn't want to cry in your arms. He really did want to let loose, reveal that everything is not okay.

Yet he couldn't.

He didn't want to burden you with his problems anymore. Joost felt like he had too much baggage no one wanted to hear. He thought that everyone wants his happy-go-lucky side. You jusy wanted his true self. The Joost that is willing to tell you his feelings.

He decided to call one of your friends that happened to live by the neighborhood.

"Hello?"

"Is reader with you?"

The other line was quite crispy, Joost can hear a tv in the background, sounded like laughter in the back, maybe a comedy.

"No, why? Is everything alright?"

Joost sighed, fidgeting with a stand of hair. "No, me and her got into a fight and I made her leave- I haven't heard from her!" He exclaimed.

"Woah, woah, deep breaths." The friend on the line said, "Don't you have her location? Check if she's near the area, I'll stay on the line while you do that."

Joost quickly checked his phone to see if you turned off your location. You didn't, you forgot to. "She's in the nearest bar!" The friend hummed. "Go to her, she only drinks when she's stressed the hell out."

"Thank you so much," Joost happened to be crying again, quickly grabbing his keys and jacket. "No problem, get get her." The friend hung up on him as he raced to your location, being around eight minutes away if he ran the whole way.

He bolted as fast as he could, petrified about your safety. Where if you're black out drunk or not.

Pacing to the bar, precious seconds going by, he finally made it. it was one of the least popular bars near so there wasn't any hassle to get in. As he walked inside, he saw a women with the same color hair as you. Your head down on the table with around two shot glasses, there was three more earlier, the bartender just took them.

He sped-walked towards you, careful and still just incase you were still mad at him. He tapped you on your shoulder, but you didn't raise your head up.

"Ik heb een vriendje." (I have a boyfriend.) Was all you said. "I know." Joost calmly answered, his accent triggered you to lift your head up.

"Joost?" He nodded as he sat down next to you, his hand reaching for yours. You didn't push away his hand, as much as you wanted to, you knew he was in pain.

"Why are you here?" You softly say. You'll like to say you ignored him but you couldn't. You were certainly mad at him, but he had his reasons of sheltering himself away. So you listened instead of scolding.

"Reader, I'm so sorry- I didn't want to bother you with my problems. I feel like I just have too much going on for you to care." You felt destroyed at the thought of Joost think you don't care for him. Joost was rubbing circles on your palms.

He continued, "Can we go home, I would rather we talk there."

You smile at the chance of him opening up. You immediately say yes, standing up to leave. All your drinks were already paid for.

As the quiet, yet comfortable, walk back home he held you tight. Clinging onto your left arm for dear life. He still felt guilty for leaving you.

All alone in the streets. You told him it wasn't a big deal, that you could protect yourself. Yet the feeling guilt was still there, on his tongue. The taste was horrid.

Joost unlocked the door, letting you step inside first before closing the door behind him. That's where you engulfed him in a huge hug. Tears coming back for the fourth time.

That night ended with a deep conversation, with cuddles on the couch along with some ice cream half way eaten.

"I appreciate you having the courage to tell me all this."

You muttered your sentence out, about to knock out cold, your body longed for sleep but you kept awake for a bit while.

"I should thank you."

He smiled, tugging you closer to him. You can feel his hot breath breezing though the right side of your neck.

The warmth of each other's bodies made you two warm. You still weren't ready to give up on him.

You'll never give up on him.

LETSGOO FINISHED THIS IN 3 HOURS!! part 2 of let me think... is in the works don't worry, i have two other requests on the way as well.

im okay with nsfw requests, even if its a bit spicy or all the way. check out my other account!!