#i live for these two tea party partners

[wndaswife]

To your stepmother’s surprise, you come home from a Christmas party asking for her to care for you; it’s been months since her wedding to your father and months since you’ve paid her any attention at all.

Tags: angst, kiiinda fluffy, stepmom wanda loving you so so much, almost nearly unrequited love

drabble for matriarchal disturbance

I forgot my keys. 

You texted Wanda some time during the evening once you realized you had forgotten them, and since she was the only one at home until tomorrow, she’d have to let you in. Or at least keep the door unlocked. 

Oh no. It’s okay, I have work to do so I can unlock the door when you come home. :)

It was Christmas break and you were home for just a little, so you were out drinking with some friends from high school and some of their new college friends. 

Wanda had texted you a week or two prior asking when you might be coming home. You didn’t answer — you didn’t ever feel in the mood to talk with your stepmother — but you knew it was still her curiosity talking through your father when he called a few days after you left her on read, asking the same question. 

They were both happy to have you home, but Wanda particularly, though you could tell she was trying not to be overbearing. 

She offered to make you tea or coffee once you were unpacking and offered to make you whatever you wanted for dinner that evening, and very subtly tried asking if you’d be home all break or if you might consider staying longer than when you planned to leave. 

Your holiday break ended much later than the day you were planning on leaving, but you didn’t want to stay around much longer than was necessary — you’d spend New Year’s at home, and then you’d leave. 

You weren’t really excited to be home, but you weren’t so cruel as to not come back for the holidays. 

Still, you weren’t really looking forward to having to deal with your stepmother’s longing, curious looks, always wanting to talk with you or bring something up but not knowing how to and not wanting to spoil her limited time with you. 

The feeling you got from seeing her look at you from the corner of your eye wasn’t necessarily all a form of annoyance, but some kinds of pity too, and perhaps some guilt. 

There was something about the Christmas party that sorta had you feeling down, and you weren’t quite sure what it was, though perhaps it was simply because there were many things that had bothered you and you just couldn't pin it down to one thing. 

It was something about meeting some of your friends’ other friends, and even some of their new partners. You hadn’t drunk anything, and perhaps it would’ve been worse for you if you did — you tended to get a bit more emotional while drunk. 

All in all, you just felt… left out. And like you were missing something, or like you never wanted to be there at all. 

You wanted to be somewhere you belonged and where your presence was not only enjoyed but needed — somewhere it was warm and loving and kind and soft. 

While seeing all your friends together with their new ones and their partners, you just kept thinking of Wanda.

And you really hated yourself for it. 

You wanted to go home to see her, and you knew you couldn’t stop it, because you’d been thinking of her all night. So you drank enough to feel just a little drunk — to get just enough confidence to make a bad decision — and went back home early. 

From the window facing the street, you could see through the curtains that the living room lamp was on.

Wanda opened the door when you knocked like she said she would. From the door, you could see a book laying on the couch. She smiled at the sight of you. 

“Did you have fun?” she asked immediately, stepping back a bit to allow you in. Then she said sympathetically after taking a better look at you, “You look a bit tired.”

You thanked the stars for having taken a few shots before you left. 

You stepped into the house and wrapped your arms around Wanda, feeling the warmth of her knitted sweater against your cheek, then against the tip of your nose when you turned your head to bury your face in the crook of her neck. Her hair tickled the space between your eyebrows. 

There was a split moment before she wrapped her arms around you that would have been indiscernible if you hadn’t felt how immediate her embraces were a million-and-one times before. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Wanda asked, having turned her head to look down at you so the breath of her soft whispered voice blew warm and gentle against your ear. 

“I wanna be your baby again,” you confessed — stupidly. 

Wanda tried to speak immediately for how she felt deep in her chest when you spoke the words she had only dreamt would come out of your mouth ever since the wedding, but found she could speak only in stutters. 

Then she finally said, “You’ll always be my baby, Y/N.”

You hugged her tighter and you knew that if you hadn’t been just a little bit drunk, you would’ve been angry at what she had just said. But now, it could nearly make you cry. 

“Can you bring me to bed?” you mumbled quietly into her neck, still seemingly a bit embarrassed through your drunken state. 

“Of course,” she answered, smiling down at you. This was the closest you’d been to her in months, and likely the longest you’ve spoken to her with undivided attention in that same span of time too. She almost didn’t want to move at all for how you’d unwrap your arms from around her once you headed up the stairs together. 

You unwrapped yourself from around her body and she closed and locked the front door; you’d literally just been standing embracing each other in the wide-open doorway for several moments. 

Then you swiped at your eyes when you pulled away in case you accidentally had cried. 

Wanda smiled at you sweetly, and a bit tiredly too, and you knew she must’ve finished her work a little bit ago and decided to stay up to wait for you. She took your hand and you walked up the stairs beside each other in silence. 

She squeezed your hand and you squeezed back, and Wanda looked over her shoulder at you shyly as you stared down at the steps of the staircase. 

“Can I help you get ready for bed?” she asked once you both arrived in front of the washroom. 

You nodded silently then looked up at her with a small smile. “I just have to get my stuff from my bags,” you told her. Then, a bit hesitantly, you let go of her hand and walked towards your bedroom. 

Wanda turned on the washroom light and paced around a little, playing with the knitted fabric of her sweater nervously and checking her hair a bit in the mirror, and even trying to repress a tiny smile as she couldn’t help but make comparisons to how it all used to be before the wedding. 

But she didn’t want to get ahead of herself — after all, every day after this would be different, and whatever had caused you to come seeking her comfort wasn’t guaranteed to happen again from tonight onwards. 

You came into the washroom with a little bag of your toiletries and started unpacking them, starting with makeup wipes and face wash then everything else. 

“Come lean against the counter,” Wanda said, and you did. She began removing your makeup with one of your makeup wipes, the fingers of her other hand delicately perched under your chin to keep your face in the light. 

She was gentle with how she swiped against your face, and thorough with taking all the makeup off. 

Wanda was always so nice and gentle. In taking care of you, and in treating you in any way, really, she always did it as if you were delicate, and special to her too. She never wanted to hurt you, never wanted to make you feel like you weren't the most important thing in the world to her. 

You felt like crying, but really didn’t want to ruin how casual you were trying to make everything seem. 

She must’ve noticed how your eyes were filling with tears because once she finished she set the makeup wipe down and held you to her chest wordlessly, running her hand down the side of your head soothingly with her other arm wrapped around your waist. 

She seemed to understand that you still had your reservations about being with her like this again, and that you weren’t trying not to get into things too quickly. 

Even so, she couldn’t help but… hope, even just a little, that the feeling of how she held you and brought you close might make you miss her enough to want to be her baby again for more than just an evening. 

“I’m gonna brush my teeth and stuff,” you mumbled and straightened out of her hold, swiping at your eyes again.

Wanda packed up your makeup wipes and slid it back into the toiletry bag you brought. 

Quietly, you asked, “Can I sleep with you?”

You weren’t really sure where to look when you asked, so you tried to keep busy getting your toothbrush ready. 

But when Wanda replied with a gentle, almost eager, ‘Of course,’ you couldn’t help but look over at her to see her smiling at you.

You looked away while she told you that she would also change and get ready while she waited for you — her shared bedroom had a washroom in it. 

Wanda felt ridiculous for how she felt in her stomach — a familiar fluttering feeling dancing around where it would when you were still together. Sometimes Wanda reasoned the memory of the feeling up to a fantasy, that perhaps she may have recalled it as differently as it had been for it’d been so long since she’d felt it. 

But it was exactly the same as she recalled. 

And it was only with you. 

She hadn’t realized she had been smiling until she heard you come into the bedroom, and she instinctively relaxed her face so as to not be overzealous and overwhelm you. 

“Are you ready for bed?” she asked, closing the door of the walk-in closet as she stood in her pajama shorts and tank. 

You nodded then looked away from her for how happy you felt to be asked that, to soon be adorned by Wanda’s kisses and touched by her gentle, loving hands and embraced by her arms the moment you got into bed. 

Wanda seemed to be hesitant at your reluctance for a moment. Her fingers twitched with the urge to walk over and embrace you, to kiss your lips and lead you to her bed. But instead, restraining herself, she went to bed first, getting under the covers and looking over at you encouragingly. 

Silently, you followed after closing the bedroom door. 

She turned off the lamp on her side and you hesitated for a moment before you reached over and did the same. 

Then you were blanketed in the darkness of the bedroom, and for a moment you couldn’t see Wanda in your peripheral vision at all; you could for a moment construe the feelings of blankets under your hands as being in your own bed instead of hers. 

For a moment you felt glad to imagine you had made it all up, but then you felt terribly disappointed and lonely again. 

Without Wanda, it was always just a little bit… lonely. 

But the burst of sudden feelings was contained only within a few moments’ time, for your eyes soon adjusted and you could see the shadow of your stepmother beside you. 

She reached out for you, her hand moving under the blankets and placing it on your bare thigh. She moved closer. 

“Don’t be nervous,” she said quietly. “It’s okay.”

You’d been here before — in Wanda’s bed without your dad being home, in her company, in the spotlight of her undivided attention, in the warm shower of all her heart could pour out for you and only you. 

It was was familiar with Wanda and you knew it for it was the closest thing you’d felt in a while to being somewhere you were certain you belonged in. 

Then she added, “I want you here, Y/N.”

Like you had asked her, Wanda babied you — she cared for you. Her other hand wrapped around your waist and she slowly urged your body to lay down beside her. 

She didn’t stop there; she moved herself onto her elbow only slightly to gain height over you, then cupped your furthest cheek with her hand. She kissed your face gently, tenderly, on your temple then on your cheekbone, and your chin. 

Not your lips — not unless it was you who made an advance towards her first. 

You turned and wrapped an arm around her torso securely, burying your face in her chest. She lowered herself back down and wrapped her arms around you immediately. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you muttered against her, “I love you.”

In the morning when you arose before her, you carefully peeled yourself away from a soundly-sleeping Wanda. There was a pang in your chest as you sat at the edge of the bed, recalling how she held you close after you had told her you loved her.

She held you in a way that communicated desperation and longing; it wasn’t only sweet and tender like she always was, but pained, too. She had cradled the back of your head to her chest, rubbed your upper back and pressed her lips against the top of your head. 

She might’ve nearly said that she loved you a fourth time, though you presumed she had tried to contain the way she wanted to pour herself out for you right then and there. 

You turned and watched as she dozed, her body the very same that you were held against through the night, the same you had thrown yourself into her arms of and were accepted and loved and cared for like you wanted, like Wanda wanted. 

How at peace she seemed having gone to sleep with you in her arms, with all she had been longing for warm in her embrace and sleeping in the eternal comfort of her loving. 

If you were honest with yourself, and you tried to be for how often you lied to Wanda, you didn’t think it was a lie when you told her you loved her, for you still did. 

And you still could, inviting her over to your place and responding to her calls and texts when you were away, letting her care for you and at the very least not pretend she wasn’t always looking at you, waiting only for your eye contact as cue for her to bring up one of the dozens of questions and worries she had about the life that you no longer shared with her — which was to say, all of it. 

Wanda stirred and her fingers flexed outwards slightly, reflecting a slowly-rising sun’s beams against her wedding ring, before she relaxed again, still in deep sleep. 

Just under an hour later once Wanda woke up to find you gone, she texted asking where you were. 

When she texted, you knew that she must have looked first to see if you had moved to your own bed, for you had left and decided to go on a drive. 

She messaged: Have you gone out?

Sitting in a parking lot of a walking trail with the breakfast you picked up, the sun only just having fully risen, you texted back. 

Forgot something at Kate’s last night.

She asked if you were going to eat breakfast there or if you would be home to have breakfast with her; she’d make some now so it could be ready by the time you got back. 

You tried to keep eating after choosing to leave your stepmother on read, but soon lost your appetite. Instead, you went on a walk that lasted until the early afternoon when your dad got back home. 

As you had planned, you went back to your place on the second of January, and that evening wasn’t ever brought up. 

[hornychristianprincess]

wasted (leehan x fem reader) FINAL

paring: leehan x fem reader, ft. taesan genre: smut, fluff, angst, fuckboy!leehan word count: 15k summary: finally confessing your feelings to leehan leads to a reaction you could have never prepared for. warnings: unwanted sexual advances (NOT from leehan), explicit [consensual] sex scenes, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it ppl) read on ao3 if you please by clicking HERE.

“Jaehyun, you have a lot of friends, right?” asks Leehan when he and his roommate are relaxing in their shared living room, doing homework. “Do you know anyone who works in the tutoring office? Blonde streak of hair?”

It’s the only attributes he can remember about the guy he saw you entering your room with only a few days ago, noticing the blue tutoring office logo on the chest of his polo shirt and the distinctive stripe of color in the middle his head. 

“Oh yeah, I think you’re talking about Taesan,” says Jaehyun, who luckily isn’t paying attention enough to his roommate to notice how he perks up at just the name. “Why?”

Even Leehan himself isn’t exactly sure why he cares so much. 

It’s hypocritical at best and gross at worst to think that you have any less of a right to screw around than he does. 

But whether it's his innate territoriality coming into play or the fact that he’s upset it wasn’t him at your side instead, he can’t help but see you differently after what he saw.

“I saw him with some girl I was fucking. Sexual partners are like cars – You don’t want one everyone gets to use, you know?”

Jaehyun, who had up until this point been lying on the floor and playing idly with his Nintendo switch, sits up to look at Leehan. “You’re not talking about Y/N, are you?”

The first thought that comes to a surprised Leehan’s mind is what he said to have tipped Jaehyun off. Failing to think of any divertive lie, he decides there’s no harm in Jaehyun knowing, only wondering, “How’d you find out?”

“I saw her going into your room the night of my Halloween party,”  he explains reasonably, before his voice and facial expression turn suddenly serious. “You shouldn’t talk about her like that. She’s going through a lot right now. She just failed all of her midterms and she might get kicked out of school.”

“Wait, really?” asks Leehan, who is hit with a sudden pang of deja vu as if he’s heard this before but doesn’t remember from where. 

And then, it’s with a sudden and strong surge of embarrassment that he remembers the moment when he was feeling horny and decided to send you a dick pic, pressing the little blue arrow after only briefly glancing at the above messages.

“Oh shit. I think she told me that.”

Jaehyun laughs jeeringly, the resentful sound of which brings Leehan out of his own spiraling thoughts. “You’re an asshole, man,” he asserts, saying it in a way that’s so casual it’s as if it’s just a known fact. 

Not an insult or a compliment, but simply a thing that’s true. 

And somehow, the neutrality of it hurts worse. 

“No offense, but I totally hope she forgets she ever met you.”

Hit by the irony of such cruel words being preceded by no offense, Leehan becomes sarcastic to avoid having to express the true hurt of being told that. “None taken. That seriously wasn’t offensive at all, Jaehyun.”

Maybe Jaehyun is right. After working so hard to emphasize the line between being fuckbuddies and being in a relationship, yet still finding himself acting the exact way he feared you would, isn’t asshole the only way to truly express how shitty he’s being about this? 

It’s at that moment that Leehan considers that perhaps this relationship between the two of you has spiraled out of control. 

Because something that should be inherently easy and casual has now caused him far too much regret and remorse for his liking.

Sitting in an empty classroom with Taesan, you share a cup of bubble tea, the drinking of which causes you to bump hands several times as you reach out to grab it at the same time. 

Interacting with Taesan always brings up sweet and innocent feelings that are like that of childhood crushes, or chasing fireflies on your lawn after dark. 

Fall break has long been over and yet you continue to meet with him even outside of your mandatory weekly check-ins, forgetting the anxiety that once plagued you over this arrangement. 

The time you spend with Taesan is so fulfilling that you’ve managed to completely forget that Leehan hasn’t contacted you in almost a week. 

Well, maybe not completely. 

You still wonder from time to time what he’s thinking, if maybe he read the text message you sent prior to his dick pic and internalized the part where you emphasized how you wouldn’t have time for him anymore.

There is of course a tiny part of you that feels empty and abandoned at the idea of him ghosting you and never talking to you again.

But it’s in a stroke of optimism, feigned or otherwise, that you decide to pour your attention into someone who feels like a much better match for you, that someone being Taesan.

“I’m just about to finish with this assignment. After I’m done, do you wanna go to the caf?” you mumble out in inquiry to Taesan as you check over your quiz answers for the last time before submitting. 

You hear him make a noncommittal noise in response, which you first interpret as disinterest, but only seconds later recognize to be absent-mindedness as you feel his eyes warming the side of your face. 

You let out a chuckle, just about to say something teasing to him for being caught staring at you when a few warm fingers glide across your ear. Taken aback, you meet Taesan’s gaze as he tucks away a piece of your stray hair. 

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, holding your face in his hand. “You have this…faraway look in your eyes.”

Your eyes dart between his face and his hand that’s slow to come off of your ear, surprised by the sudden bit of physical contact.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you answer calmly if maybe a bit shakily, trying to appear normal though your head screams with a million passing thoughts at once. Taesan nods in acceptance of this answer before turning back to his laptop as if nothing happened. 

If you were at all a gambling person, you’d bet good money that the telltale, suave move of tucking your hair behind your ear was a way for him to see how you’d react to something less platanotic from him. 

And if you were to allow this moment to pass by without saying anything, you know that he would follow your lead and pretend like this never happened. He’d use your silence as evidence that his advances are unwelcome. 

Perhaps you’re feeling a little bold, but you don’t want him to go any longer thinking that his interest isn’t reciprocated.

“Wait,” you remark, reaching out to grab Taesan’s wrist. “Taesan, can I kiss you?”

The usually mysterious, confident boy loses his ability to speak when you ask him that, eyes going wide and only nodding to communicate his consent. Finding his sudden shyness charming, you smile as you lean in to press your lips against his. 

Taesan’s mouth is just as inviting as you thought it would be all the times you spent staring at it when you were sure he wasn’t looking. He may have acted shy just now, but the way that Taesan kisses you is like fire. He presses his mouth hard against yours, and when his body does the same you soon find yourself pressed into the rolling chair you’re sitting in.

Your hand moves up to tangle in his hair, pulling him in to deepen the kiss. You were sure that Taesan, ever the responsible one, would be the person between the two of you to pull away before things got too heated. 

But now, all he does is lean in to your provocations, sticking his tongue into your mouth while you whimper against his. 

And as you try to allow your brain to white out so that you can truly relax into the gratification he is sure to give you, all you can think about is how his lips are not Leehan’s lips.

His hands are not Leehan’s hands. 

His kiss doesn’t evoke even a fraction of the electricity that Leehan does just by looking at you. 

You accept then that self-preservation must be a confounding myth to your psyche, because against all odds, you are still very much into Leehan. 

And while you could easily fuck Taesan anyway and let the enjoyment of his sex prove as a temporary salve to the gaping wound that is your feelings for Leehan, you feel too much like he doesn’t deserve to fuck someone with such selfish intentions. 

So, it’s with both regret and sobering understanding that you pull Taesan away from you, lines of spit breaking into drool as you separate.

The two of you become temporarily frozen in a moment of both confusion and shock. Taesan, looking at you with widened eyes and reddened lips, asks in a small yet urgent voice, “What? Is something wrong?”

You already feel like a piece of shit as you loosen your grip on Taesan’s hair, letting your hands fall to your lap and noticing that his still rest on your waist. “Taesan…” you begin, and already at just the sound of his name, you can see his expression wilting, like he knows by the unsure tone of your voice exactly what you’re going to say. And how couldn’t he, when you suck so badly at giving bad news?

“I think you’re an amazing person. And believe me when I say I really, really wanted this between us,” you emphasize, wishing you could get swallowed up by a hole as he continues to stare at you in dumbfounded awe. 

You know that these aren't words anyone wants to hear but you feel compelled to say them, feeling like Taesan deserves honesty from you.

“To be completely candid with you, the reason why I’m on academic probation is because of a guy. A recent guy who treated me like shit, but because I’m an idiot, I still want him.”

You wait on edge for the moment when Taesan’s disposition will return to that of the understanding, kind person you’ve come to know, the moment when you’ll both laugh at the awkwardness of this situation and allow yourselves to forget it ever happened.

Instead, though, all you see in Taesan’s eyes is a fiery passion that makes your head hurt as you realize he won’t let this rejection go down easily. 

“You know that doesn’t matter to me right? We don’t have to…be all romantic, and shit. I’m fine with something casual. Happier with that, even.”

It’s with a pang of insecurity that you fight back a self-pitying laugh at those words, wondering what it is about you that makes men only want casual, no-strings-attached relationships with you. 

“I’m sorry for making things awkward. And if you don’t want to tutor me anymore after this, I’d completely understand,” you concede in the nicest possible tone you can muster, still incredibly conscious of Taesan’s hands that have still not left your waist. “But I can’t do this, Taesan. You’re amazing but I just…I can’t, okay?”

When Taesan continues to stare at you as if he isn’t comprehending a word that’s coming out of your mouth, you reach down to move his hands off of your waist yourself, and when you do,  you’re shocked when you feel his fingers seizing around your wrists to hold them in place. 

“You’re being ridiculous, Y/N. So what if you’re not over your ex? That shouldn’t stop you from getting your rocks off,” he says, voice rising considerably as he squeezes your wrists so harshly it begins to hurt. 

It’s at this moment that you realize you’ll never be able to look at Taesan the same again. 

No longer the sweet, kind and helpful boy you first met, he looks pathetic and at worst, scary as he continues to refuse your rejection.

“Taesan, I’m really gonna need you to let go of me,” you request, saying it without any niceties as you manage to convince yourself that maybe he’s just taking this extra hard for whatever reason and just needs to hear you being serious so that he can come to his senses. “Listen, how about we end early for today and talk about this another time–”

“I’m not letting you leave until you can look me in my eyes and give me one good reason why we shouldn’t do this,” he asserts, still holding your wrists, laughing a little in a way that makes it hard for you to tell if he knows that he’s making you uncomfortable or thinks that this is all just some game of hard-to-get. “You can act coy all you want but I know you want me, I could tell as soon as I met you.”

“I’m gonna tell you to let go of me one more time, Taesan, and then I start screaming,” you threaten, no longer feeling amused or pitiful but instead angry, adrenaline running through your veins as you consider the possibility of having to physically attack him. 

You’re not sure how things escalated so quickly but now you’re quickly regretting ever befriending Han Taesan in the first place, ever thinking that he could be a permanent fixture in your life.

Catching you by surprise, Taesan stands up suddenly from his chair and drags you up with him. It’s in a flurry of movements that he somehow manages to pin you against a wall, smirking down at you from above. 

You let out a squeal but he covers your mouth, strong enough to use only one of his hands to keep your arms pinned above your head. He laughs as you struggle against him, perhaps not realizing – or worse, realizing it and getting off on how deeply he’s managed to scare you.

“What?” he asks through upturned lips, pressing his body into yours. “Don’t girls like it when guys don’t take no for an answer?”

It’s in the strangest and most serendipitous stroke of luck that you hear the sound of the classroom door swinging open.

And when you turn your head to meet the gaze of your savior, it’s Leehan who you see standing there, taking in the scene in front of him. 

It feels stupid and random that of course it’s Leehan who just happened to be the person to walk in here, but you don’t dwell too much on the details, focused on the relief that floods through you knowing there’s someone here to intervene on your behalf. 

Leehan hesitates momentarily as he wonders if he’s just had the misfortune to accidentally walk in on the kinky foreplay between you and this new guy you’ve been seeing. Attending a lecture in this same building, he happened to walk by the classroom and hear a distressed voice that sounded vaguely familiar. 

Through the fogged glass material of the door, he could just barely make out your silhouette, instinctually barging in to see what was going on. 

If Leehan didn’t know you so well, he might’ve immediately bolted at the sight of you engaging in intimacy with someone else. It would be too much and he knows it would force him to confront his conflicting feelings towards you.

But the moment he meets your gaze and sees the steely, ice cold fear that’s in your eyes, his next moves are made clear. Without questioning anything, he steps forward and punches an already staggering Taesan in the face.

The punch causes Taesan to fall backward, blood that you aren’t sure is coming from his lip or his nose splattering onto the floor. You and Leehan remain frozen, you in shock at both Taesan’s actions and Leehan’s sudden presence, and Leehan with the adrenaline of becoming unexpectedly violent. 

It’s in that moment of stillness on both of your parts that Taesan has time to recover, and before you can react, he’s leaping forward to tackle Leehan onto a nearby desk.

You let out a squeal of shock as the two men struggle, causing desks and their chairs to fly around the room haphazardly in the process.

And to your horror, Taesan quickly gets the upper hand over Leehan, sitting on top of the shorter boy in a straddling position before letting his hands fly in a series of devastating punches. 

You go to pull him off but he pushes you away, forcing you then to search frantically for your phone in the hopes of calling campus security before Leehan is pulverized any further.

“Hey, is something going o—” you hear an unfamiliar voice ask, and you look up to find that you’ve been discovered by a complete stranger, a boy who you assume is another student by his shaggy attire and backpack. He answers his own question by glancing into the room and catching sight of Taesan and Leehan who are both now bleeding as they remain wrestling on the floor.

You’re just about to enlist the stranger to help you in dragging Taesan off of Leehan when, suddenly, you don’t have to. 

Realizing that the stranger’s presence could mean that even more people could arrive to inspect what’s causing all of this noise any second, you watch as the fear of getting in trouble overtakes Taesan’s expression until he’s getting up. 

He gets up and sprints out of the classroom wildly, shoulder checking the stranger in the process as he flees out of the building.

“Should I run after him?” asks the student at the door who you’re sure is still processing what he’s just seen. But more than anything else, you’re worried about Leehan, who you just saw taking several punches to the face and is laying down on the ground making strangled, agonized noises.

“No. It’s better that you scared him away. I just need to get him to the infirmary,” you reply, trying to sound more calm and controlled than you feel but hearing how your adrenaline from the past few minute’s events causes your voice to come out shaky and broken. The stranger asks if you need any help but you wave him away, deciding it would be too much of a burden to have to explain what just happened to anyone else. 

So it’s by yourself that you go to hover over Leehan’s body and try to push back the horror of seeing his face bloodied and bruised so that you can help him onto his feet.

And because most of the damage seems to be centralized on his face — maybe his back and head, too, after being tackled onto the ground — he mostly manages to stand up on his own. Though, once on his feet, he has to lean on you to avoid staggering.

“Don’t…let him…go, Y/N,” he mumbles, making you feel even more concerned and on edge as his garbled tone makes it sound like he’s one step away from passing out. “He was…hurting you, wasn’t he?”

“It’s fine, Leehan. Let’s just get you to the infirmary,” you reply dismissively, needing him to be pliant more than anything in this moment so that you can get him to your thankfully close by campus infirmary without issue. 

Your transgression with Taesan with startling and for a brief moment, terrifying. But with him now gone, the majority of your distress lies with Leehan and making sure he’s okay.

And to your relief, as you take a few steps forward with Leehan’s arm leaned over your shoulder, he remains upright and mostly autonomous in his movements.

He continues to say nothing on your way out of the building outside from the occasional groan, and you’re sure that as the adrenaline wears off that the pain in his face must become more present. You luckily make it to the infirmary moments later, where the doctor on call takes one look at Leehan’s face and immediately rushes him into a care room. 

Everything that happens after that is a bit of a blur for you. A campus security officer comes to take a statement from you. You tell him everything, giving him Taesan’s full name and picture in the hopes that it can lead to some type of action, although a part of you feels discouraged and numb at that notion.

You wait anxiously in the lobby of the infirmary, waiting for an update from the doctor and feeling like you’re gonna throw up when the older woman comes out from the hallway with a neutral, unreadable expression on her face.

“Hi ma'am. Your friend is doing just fine. All of the cuts on his face are superficial, so they’ll heal on their own. He’ll have some bruises and swelling, which will also go away with time. He does have a bit of a concussion, so we’ll send you both home with some Tylenol. If you’d like to come and see him, you can follow me.”

Though you figured that most of his injuries were minor, you still feel relieved to hear that nothing is significantly wrong; it’s irrational, but you know you would have been eaten alive with guilt had anything serious happened. 

Getting up to follow the doctor, you walk into the care room to find Leehan sitting on the edge of an examination chair, a nurse still applying little white bandaids to a cut on his cheek. When he sees you come in he smiles, though only fleetingly as the gesture causes him to wince in pain.

You don’t know what to say to him, so you opt to sit down on a chair that’s directly next to his dangling legs. You watch as the nurse goes to prod at a separate wound on his lip with a q-tip dipped in brown liquid. You don’t realize how tense you are until you feel the warmth of a hand over yours, and when you look up, Leehan is staring at you in amusement. 

“You’re shaking,” he observes, and though he can’t smirk without it causing him pain, he still gazes at you in a way that is teasing and smug. And the fact that he’s concerned about you when he’s the one who’s getting medical attention makes you let out a cynical, humorless laugh.

“Don’t worry about me. Look what he did to you.”

“I’m still good-looking, though, aren’t I?” he replies playfully, and because you’re so upset, you feel yourself almost inclined to scold him for making such jokes in light of the circumstances. But Leehan, never one to read the room or adhere to the tones and moods of others, is laughing as he commands, “You have to tell me or I’ll have an internal crisis.”

You stare at him with your eyebrows furrowed, wanting to be annoyed by him but not being able to help your smile as he continues to await your confirmation of his enduring looks with a pout. 

Rolling your eyes, it’s with a bit of resistance in your voice that you reply, “Yes, you’re still handsome, Leehan.”

He pumps his fist up in the air triumphantly, and with that, the nurse leaves the room, telling you that she’ll return with the official paperwork needed so that he can be discharged.

Once she’s gone, it’s quiet between the two of you until Leehan breaks the silence with a question. “That guy…his name’s Taesan, right?”

You’re taken aback, both at the sudden change in his tone and disposition –  his voice now serious and inquiring – and the fact that he even knows who Taesan is. “How do you know?”

“I saw you with him outside of your dorm. Asked Jaehyun who he is,” he responds plainly. And as you take in this information, you’re not sure what to say in reply. Even just knowing that he was outside of your dorm that day when Taesan came to your room and didn’t say anything makes you think he must’ve had some kind of reaction to seeing the two of you together. 

And as you put the timing together, it makes sense why you hadn’t heard from him for a week until now.

But then again, it doesn’t make sense. Because the Leehan you know, the Leehan you’ve come to resent, surely wouldn’t — shouldn't — care to see you with another guy when he’s been so adamant about keeping things non-exclusive between the two of you.

“Are you together?” he asks when you remain silent, and in what feels like a complete switch in power dynamics, you find that Leehan is the one now clearly expressing some kind of worry or at the very least interest in what you get up to when you’re not with him. 

And because you feel both vindicated to be on the other side of this sort of questioning, and not at all entitled to tell him the truth, you answer by asking, “If I said yes, what would you say?”

Leehan looks at you, all amusement absent from his expression even as he says somewhat sarcastically, “That I thought being with me meant you had better taste in men.”

His response causes you to scoff, the idea of him thinking that he’s somehow at a higher caliber than all the other similarly emotionally-unavailable men on your campus something you find absurd. 

And yes, maybe it’s because you’re already feeling a little bitter towards him that you’re then replying scathingly, “If anything, wouldn’t my interest in you mean the opposite?”

“Funny,” he says sardonically in reply. The atmosphere between the two of you currently is tense. He resents you for being with someone else and you resent him for setting boundaries for your relationship that he never intended to follow.

And yet, despite the unresolved negative emotions that are clearly swimming between the two of you, it feels absurd and crazy to say that as you continue to make unbroken and silent eye contact, you feel like he’s about to kiss you. 

That’s the sort of crazy chemistry you seem to have with one another, where even as you both have the rationality to recognize the toxicity of this dynamic you both still find yourselves magnetically pulled to one another in a way that, in most people’s eyes, would be viewed as mindless. 

But it’s just as you swear he’s leaning in that the doctor comes into the room, handing Leehan a clipboard and telling him he can go once he’s finished filling out a few forms. You wait for him, not sure what will happen once you leave but feeling almost responsible to at least see him to his apartment.

And so, you exit the hospital together, and it’s as you’re walking out that you voice to him truthfully, “It feels weird just dropping you off like you didn’t just get your face rearranged trying to save me.”

He lets out a chuckle in response, swinging his body so that he’s standing in front of you before shrugging and saying, “Then don’t drop me off. We could go to your dorm, watch a movie.”

The request to do something as simple as watch a movie sounds so foreign coming out of his mouth that you can’t help but laugh out loud. “When do we ever watch a movie?” you ask, repeating the words in disbelief. 

You’re mostly joking when you ask that, but it’s with a tiny pang of sadness that you acknowledge the tragedy of him wanting your company for something other than sex being something that’s so unbelievable.

“Today. Rocky V is probably ill-timed, but I love a good nature documentary,” he replies with a grin, and as always, you are unable to get a read on his expression to know if he is being serious or not. 

But today has been a crazy day and you know that being in your room by yourself after everything that’s happened is only going to make you feel worse. So, deciding that there’s no harm in keeping him company for just a little while longer, you allow him to lead the way to the building that he’s been to so many times. 

You know from learning your roommate’s schedule that she’ll be in a lab for the next 3 hours, a fact that makes you feel relieved as you enter your dorm with Leehan trailing behind you. He comes in and immediately collapses onto the couch, spreading his arms out on either side of the cushions in a way that brings renewed attention to his broad shoulders.

“So. Do you actually want to watch a movie?” you ask casually as you stand a few feet away from him, trying your hardest to keep any bitterness out of your tone as you watch him shrug his shoulders nonchalantly.

“You know, now that I’m here…” he says, already smirking as he watches you fight the urge to roll your eyes. “It feels like a much better idea for you to come sit on my lap.”

Even though you find yourself enticed by the invitation, in a small, distant part of your brain, it feels like you’ve been manipulated into letting him come to your room. That watching a movie had always been a lie to get you to have sex with him.

But something has changed inside of you, and from what, you can’t pinpoint. All you know is that the accumulations of lies and divertive tactics that you’ve endured from Leehan thus far has left you almost numb to his provocations. 

Instead of feeling sad or shitty or upset, you just feel nothing. 

And somehow, that change feels more concerning to you than the emotions from before did.

Still, you find yourself stalking silently to Leehan on the couch, his eyes never leaving yours as you make your way towards him. His legs spread naturally as you get between them, and it’s with a jaguar-like slowness that you crawl over his body until you’re straddling him. 

Intensity rolls off of the both of your bodies like water, the silence and shared eye contact only contributing to the growing sexual desire that builds between the two of you.

In contrast to such lust, it’s in a gesture of affection that you lean in to lay a gentle, barely-there kiss against all of the wounds on his face. The cut on his cheek. His busted bottom lip. The knot forming on the top of his head. The bruise on the side of his jaw. You do it almost in apology but also because you want him to tease him, giving him only fleeting touches and kisses before you do anything substantial. He flinches at first at the contact but eventually relaxes into the softness of your lips against him. 

And though you couldn’t articulate the reason why, you get the feeling that he flinches less out of pain, but more in surprise at the unfamiliar gesture of tenderness and how it impacts him. 

You’ve only just reached his neck, sucking hickies into the pale skin there, when you can feel his cock hardening underneath you.

It’s after you’ve kissed every single piece of skin uncovered by his shirt that you decide to relieve a bit of his suffering by reaching a hand down into the waistband of his pants. All you do is close your fist around his shaft and stroke him languidly, but you suppose your teasing worked better than you thought as he whimpers at the simplest of movements. He bucks into your hand, not afraid of seeming desperate and shamelessly moaning at your touch. 

Watching him writhe and shudder beneath you, sensitive in a way you’ve never seen before, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that this is one of the few times that you’ve felt even a semblance of control in your interactions during sex. It’s always been you on the receiving end of his endless repertoire of tactics, designed always to render you incomprehensible and under the thumb of his persuasion.

Spurred on by the observation, you take advantage of his submission to ask a question that’s been on your mind since you left the hospital. 

“Can I ask you something? Why did you ask Jaehyun who I was with?”

You can just barely make out the expression of surprise that appears faintly behind Leehan’s glassy eyes, and in a tactic that even you admit is slightly contemptible, you never stop the movements of your hand as you await his answer. 

Desperate for even a moment’s worth of vulnerability from him, you hope that by literally dangling his climax in your hands that he’ll be more inclined to be truthful with you.

But for Leehan, giving you the honest answer — that he’s simply a jealous person who can’t stand seeing you with someone else even though it’s hypocritical — would only serve in making you think that his jealousy is a sign of caring, his caring a sign of affection, his affection a sign that he wants to be your boyfriend. 

And though that assessment isn’t as easy to refute as it may have once been when he first met you, it seems idiotic to put any ideas in your head that could lead to him having to admit feelings he isn’t quite sure of yet. 

So, in lieu of the truth, he replies with something that, honestly, should be a bigger concern for him than it presently is: “Because you should tell me if you’re being intimate with someone else. What if you’re not using protection and I catch something?” 

Up until now, you had prepared yourself to react calmly to whatever Leehan’s answer would be, a task you knew would be difficult because the idea of him being jealous at all is in itself insane and backwards.

It was he who insisted that this dynamic be free of any constraints or limitations. 

But the fact that he’s implying you would have sex with someone else and be so reckless as to not make any precautions for your health has your composure breaking, a scoff leaving you as you blurt out, “Have you been honest with me about the people you’re seeing?”

It’s a question you already know the answer to as you still haven’t forgotten the night of the Halloween party, how Jaehyun let it slip that Leehan had been on a date. You’d never confronted him about it because, deep down, you felt that you had no right to. 

But now, he’s placing judgment on you in a way that makes you want to throw all caution to the wind and express your true emotions to him for what seems like the first time.

Hearing the knowing tone in your question has Leehan worried, tilting his head to stare at you as if he’s just now seeing you for the first time. “Are you trying to catch me in a lie, Y/N?” he asks, amusement in his tone though you can tell your questioning rattles him. “I’ve never told you anything that wasn’t true.”

But that’s just because you’ve never told me anything of substance, you think to yourself, reflecting back on all of the times he left your room in a hurry so that he could avoid having to show you anything real.

You continue jerking him off intently, and even though he’s obviously enjoying it, you can tell that you’ve thrown him off. During sex you’ve always maintained this sort of scathing, playful banter, but this time, he knows that your question is motivated by a genuine desire to hear the truth from him. It makes him beyond uncomfortable, especially with his dick still hard and aching in your moving hand. In a sudden change of dynamics, it’s him trying to read what you’re thinking.

Seeing this crack in Leehan’s usually guarded persona spurs you on into saying even more things that you’ve been suppressing. “I know that you’re seeing someone else,” you assert, honesty you never thought you’d be capable of expressing coming out boldly and without ambivalence. “Jaehyun told me, the night of the Halloween party.”

Your eyes are glued to Leehan’s face as you scan for the smallest fluctuation in his expression, searching desperately for any indication of what he’s thinking. And in yet another gesture that might as well be a verbal admission of guilt, Leehan stares up at the ceiling to avoid your gaze. 

Leehan – confident, cool, teasing Leehan – who has always made you feel like you were scared of intimacy for not wanting to make eye contact with him during sex, is now the one shying away the intensity of your gaze. 

The feeling of triumph that comes with finally feeling like you have him at your mercy after months of the opposite has you speeding up the movements of your hand, watching as he almost winces from the overstimulation you provide. 

But more than anything else, you want answers. 

You want to know why he thinks it’s okay to police who else you invite into your bedroom when he clearly does whatever he wants without any regard for you. 

You want him to decisively and plainly decide if he’s either a sadistic asshole who believes that he should be able to treat you like shit while he goes out and fucks whoever he wants—Or if, like you, the passion of this relationship has overwhelmed him so much that he now finds himself feeling things for you that are beyond sexual, things that have caused him to abhor the notion of you being with someone other than him.

It feels like you need the answer to that question more than you need air.

And so, it’s in desperation that your voice comes out shaky as you demand, “Say something.” 

“I can’t,” he manages through gritted teeth, the sound of his voice coming out raspy and submissive making your cunt pulse with arousal. “You’re about to make me come.”

Feeling like he’s being backed into a corner, Leehan wants to tell you to stop, but the euphoria he’s experiencing is too great. He’s never seen you be so assertive, so purposeful in doing things that you know will make him go crazy. 

Rubbing your thumb over his tip. Spitting downward so that the wetness of your spit can reach his cock. Stroking him wildly and meeting his thrusts into your fist. 

Pressure builds in his abdomen until he feels himself about to explode with what might be the most intense climax of his life. 

But in a move that shocks the both of you, it’s just as Leehan is about to finish all over your hand that you abruptly pull off of him. 

Stop the movements of your hand and watch brazenly as the realization of what you just did is processed on his face.

Maybe he thought that you were joking and that this was all just some aggressive manner of foreplay. 

But now, he can see in your shocked expression, how you look so surprised at even your own insistence, that to deny him of his pleasure in this way was something that took a lot out of you. 

It’s been a hallmark of your relationship so far for you to devote yourself to his satisfaction. You’ve always cared so much about being wanted by him, even after he’s shown his disregard for you time and time again.

And so to see you work up the courage to defy him in this way makes it clear to him that you’re not gonna drop this.

This isn’t something that he can smile or flirt his way out of in the hopes of having you wrapped around his finger for just one more day.

You’re gonna force this into being an issue. And fine; if you want to have this conversation, he’ll have it.

Even if it means that by the end of this you'll realize how shitty of a person he is and want nothing to do with him afterward.

If you were still the same pliant, conflict-avoiding Y/N, you’d be alarmed at the change in his expression and how his usual amused smirk melts into a straight-lined frown. You’d transform into the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed girl who’d laugh and pretend that this was all just a way to rile him up into fucking you, hoping that you could forget this moment ever happened.

But it feels like something has been lost in your dynamic that can never be brought back. You’re no longer okay with being lied to, manipulated. And Leehan, realizing how serious you are, seeks to take back control of this situation by flipping your bodies over so that you’re on your back and he’s on top of you. 

He pins your arms above your head, holding them down so you can’t move. 

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to hear the answers to.”

He says the statement with a warning sort of tone but it only makes you laugh, no longer able to take his provocations and vague answers seriously. “Then don’t try to act hypocritical and treat me like I’m a fucking irresponsible idiot,” you retort, no hint of banter in your words as you hope he understands how serious you’re being, how done you are with his lies. “Having sex with guys without protection and not telling them about it. How do I know you haven’t been doing the exact thing you’re accusing me of?”

You ask a valid question that Leehan sees no way to get out of answering. Clearly, you already know (because of his disloyal, talkative fucking roommate) that he’s been seeing at least one girl that isn’t you. And because he can tell with certainty that your pliance is dependent on at least some kind of honesty from him, he tells you a technical truth when he says, “Since I met you, I’ve only been fucking you. No one else. I swear.”

It’s an answer that protects him from having to further delve into whether he’s seeing anyone else romantically, an important distinction that he isn’t interested in clarifying for the sake of your continued interest in him.

And as he watches you scan his face, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you seek to find any indication of either sincerity or hypocrisy in his expression, he seizes the opportunity provided by your momentary lapse in questioning to reach past the waistband of your leggings, sticking two fingers into your pulsing cunt. 

He watches with satisfaction as even in your bitterness, you still can’t help the way your back arches and your mouth parts naturally at the action. Mirroring your tactics from before, he gives you great satisfaction in exchange for your hopeful compliance. Thrusting his long fingers inside of you, he mumbles in sensual truth, “Your pretty, wet pussy is the only thing that’s been occupying my brain for the last three months.”

The part of your brain that would question the credibility of his words is turned off like a lightswitch as the thrill from his fingers takes over. As much as you try to fight off what you’re experiencing so that you can regain the upper hand, it feels like it’s almost in revenge that he fingers you with such vigor that you can’t speak. 

“Can you say the same? Huh, pretty?” he demands, digits angled just right so that the tips of his fingers repeatedly push against your most sensitive parts. “Tell me I’m the only person whose been fucking orgasms into your cunt.”

You could usually appreciate such possessive sentiments from Leehan when they were spoken in moments where there wasn’t any lingering resentment between the two of you. Now, they only annoy you, causing you to petulantly reply in mocking of his earlier words, “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

And in a move that is surely in imitation of your earlier actions, he pulls his fingers out of you completely and with them, your orgasm. His expression is a handsome mixture of annoyance and frustration. 

It feels like the two of you are in some sort of scornful, unspoken competition, you trying to get him to be honest and him trying to get you to drop this entirely. And all of this undercut by the fact that both really wanna fuck each other, only adding to the frustration of your pleasure being taken away. 

Though your body reels regretfully from the sudden drop in adrenaline, it’s with an unmoved expression on your face that you sit up, making yourself level with him. 

“What?” you retort derisively, amused to find him upset at tactics you only know because he modeled them for you so many times before. “Does it make you mad?”

“No,” he answers, a fierce expression on his face that lets you know despite the desire radiating between the two of you that he’s being serious when he says, “It makes me question the type of person you are.”

And as you poke his chest assertively, you reply, “A person abiding by the standards that you set,” reminding him once more how he lacks the right to feel entitled to your body. 

You again question why he continues to insist that a no-strings attached arrangement is what he wants when it’s clear he doesn’t want you with anyone else.

And so, it’s in your confusion that you ask, “I’m giving you exactly what you want. So why does it feel like you’re punishing me?”

“This isn’t what I want,” he says in reply. And the way that he says it almost quietly, like a stream-of-consciousness that was accidentally blurted out loud, has you inclined to believe that maybe, he’s finally coming around to seeing just how poorly suited this arrangement is for the both of you.

So, it’s with a curious tilt to your voice that you ask, “Then what do you want?”

Looking at you with a sort of urgent, unyielding expression on his face, it’s after a moment of intense and searing silence between the two of you that he leans in to kiss you roughly. What was once a moment of willful competition between the two of you now becomes intense and panicked as the passion of the last few moments takes over your bodies. 

Your hands move in a frenzy as you rush to take off one another’s clothes, and you get the feeling that had the fabric provided any real obstacle, you both would’ve been willing to rip each other’s pants and tops off. Actualizing your desire for one another becomes the most important and serious task to have ever been endeavored upon.

You’ve only just removed your final article of clothing when Leehan crawls between your legs, finding you soaked and pulsing in anticipation of his touch. Noticing this, he can feel himself going crazy with all of the unanswered questions he has about you and Taesan. He finds himself vocalizing these thoughts shamelessly as he mumbles, “Fuck, Y/N. I need you to be honest with me. Because if someone else has had this pussy, I’m gonna go crazy.”

“Make me come, and I’ll give you a straight answer,” you defiantly reply.

Tired of your games, it’s in expression of his growing impatience that Leehan slaps your pussy uncaringly. The act sends a jolt of shock through your body but especially your clit, making you moan in a mixture of both pain and pleasure. 

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he says, and rather than being amused by his insistence like you were before, it's for the first time that you find yourself intimidated, as well as turned on. “Tell me the truth.”

Leehan has always been the leader in your sexual dynamic, but you’d never describe him as rough or dominant until now. Rattled by the change, you aren’t able to manage a reply to his demand, but it’s then that Leehan raises himself up so that your faces are level. 

Making sure to keep his eyes on yours this time, he pushes three fingers inside of your aching cunt — more than you’ve ever taken from him and enough to have your eyes rolling back upon impact.

“Tell me that this pussy is mine,” he demands as he fucks you open with his fingers. You’ve never seen him this fired-up, this crazed, and it has you more turned on and pliant than you think you’ve ever been before. 

His fingers thrust in and out of you with strength you’ve never felt before, and in an amount of time that you find to be pathetic, you can feel your stomach tensing with an approaching climax, moans leaving your mouth with every breath and every curl of his fingers. 

But for the second time tonight, Leehan notices you’re about to come and rips it away from you by withdrawing his fingers entirely. And unlike before, you can’t pretend not to be dismayed as you whimper wistfully at the loss of contact. Leehan, unamused, only stares at you from above and says with finality in his tone, “Tell me the truth, and I’ll make you come.”

You can see now how serious he’s being, how important this is to him, and though you find it entirely irrational, the pulsing of arousal in your body is too strong to ignore. 

“I never fucked him. He never touched me until today.”

“And anyone else besides him?”

“There’s no one else, Leehan,” you assure him, body wracked with the weight of several heavy breaths as you practically beg for him to believe you, to touch you, to relieve the almost painful aching of your cunt. “Just you.”

You’re pleasantly surprised when he doesn't require any additional scrutiny before accepting your answer at face value, muttering an approving “Good girl,” before diving between your legs.

And you guess by the almost hungry, desperate way he then proceeds to eat you out that his easy acceptance of your word is just as much in service to his own desire to taste you as it is to you and your enjoyment. 

Because you find not just in this instance but always that Leehan gives head like his survival is dependent on your arousal. He licks and sucks and mouths at your clit, moaning languidly into your core like it's the best thing he’s ever tasted. 

And as if that’s not enough to have you reeling, he brings his hand out from underneath your thigh and puts two long, crooked fingers back into your dripping hole, thrusting and curling them inside of you like he’s intent on finding the spot that will make you scream. You throw your head back and close your eyes at the feeling that washes over your body, something like electricity pulsing through you and making your legs shake. 

Without intending it, your hips buck against his tongue in chase of your impending orgasm. And when he flattens the wet muscle, allowing you the agency to take your pleasure rather than him having to give it to you, it’s only seconds later when you feel your abdomen contracting with the intensity of your long awaited orgasm. 

You’ve barely recovered from the high of your climax when you hear Leehan saying tauntingly from above you, “See? No one else can do that as good as I can.” He then spreads your legs apart, admiring the mess he’s made of you, slick turning your inner thighs shiny and wet. ”Don’t you know now why you shouldn’t fuck anyone else?

Refusing him the satisfaction of an answer, your only response is to sit up and tell him, “Lay down. I wanna ride you.

Leehan’s only show of resistance to this request is a raise of his eyebrow, but he’s otherwise pliant as you maneuver on the couch so that he’s flat on his back. You hover just below his hard-as-a-rock erection, realizing you should go and get a condom, but it feels like an ultimate test of both your honesty that you assertively inform him, “I’m on birth control.”

Understanding what you mean to imply with this admission, you watch as Leehan’s eyes gloss over, another wave of lust taking over at the notion of having raw sex. In a distant part of your brain that isn’t completely corrupted by wanting, you wonder if this is a good idea given that you have no way of proving whether he’s been honest about his sexual history with other girls.

But as you unconsciously scoot closer and allow his cock to brush against your folds, his encouragement of “Then sit on it,” ringing pleasantly in your ears, the only thing that delays you is your desire to further tauny him. 

“Look at me,” you command passionately, holding on just barely to your own composure as you fight to get these words out amidst your own lust-corrupted brain. “If you stop, I stop. I want you to look in my eyes when I make you come.”

Leehan, either ignorant to how serious you’re being or uncaring, whimpers out your name in lieu of any indication that he understands and accepts what you’re saying. You sink down on him anyway and allow the feeling of being filled to the brim by his long, veiny cock to wipe out any and all thoughts out of your mind. 

“Oh my god, fuck,” he mumbles out in expression of how good it feels, after you’ve only just began bouncing your body up and down his cock. You bear witness to the moment when the embrace of your tight walls becomes too much for him and he throws his head back, disregarding your words from earlier. 

And although it hurts you to do so, makes your thighs burn and your lips part to let out a regretful whimper, you pull yourself upwards until his cock slips out of you completely.

“Open your eyes,” you demand assertively, not just for his sake but for your own, so that you can go back to riding the life out of him until you both can come. “Show me why you deserve this. Remind me why I keep letting you fuck me.”

The scathing remark and the brazen expression you wear as you say it causes Leehan to regain his focus, returning his gaze to yours and making sure to maintain it even as your reinsertion of his cock has him fighting not to shut his eyes closed. It’s with a feeling of regretful foreboding that Leehan realizes this is probably going to end way too soon, that the sickening combination of you riding him, your dominant and sultry words, the view of your body from above him, and the intense unbroken eye contact all work in service to his quickly approaching climax. 

And even as you too feel yourself inching closer and closer to the point of incomprehensible return, you keep talking, feelings that you’ve been suppressing for too long coming out in sultry, brokenly-spoken expressions. “I want you to savor this moment. Memorize how it feels to be inside of me,” you tell him, and then, leaning down to bite the tip of his ear, you whimper, “Fuck Leehan. You’re so big.”

Your purposeful usage of all the things you know for a fact rile him up the most is not lost on him, and it’s almost like you want him to come as quickly and embarrassingly as possible. He lingers on that thought for less than a few seconds, but even just the fleeting idea of spilling his seed inside of you has his brain entering a whole nother level of depraved and uncontrolled, until he’s muttering out the word “Fuck,” in repeated succession and thrusting up into you wildly. “Gonna come,” he announces only seconds later.

“I know you are, baby. And when you do, remember that I can only make you feel this good,” you reply, surprised at your own ability to sound assured and in control in the midst of your own fast-approaching orgasm. But in a way, it feels like you grow more confident the more you watch his verbal and motor skills deteriorate with every bounce and squeeze of your pussy against his cock. 

Making grunting sounds as his thrusts become sloppy and uncontrolled, he replies through gritted teeth, “I know. You’re my favorite girl, Y/N.”

You’ve always hated that term because of the implication it makes that there are other girls with whom he's comparing you to. But as you commit to fighting off all of the weak, vulnerable, sad emotions that have now only rendered you numb, it’s in another show of control that you reply, “Then say it. Tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

At first, you aren’t sure if Leehan can even manage a reply as you watch him grow focused and intent on his approaching orgasm. But it’s through a mixture of muffled grunts and whines, his hips never ceasing their thrusts into you, that he begins to speak.

“Your pussy was made for me. It’s all I ever think about. The sex we have – nghh – it’s the best I’ve ever had,” he tells you emphatically. 

And the brokenness of his words, the way they come out rushed and passionate as if a suppressed part of him needs you to hear them, has you feeling profoundly impacted by the weight of them. 

“You make me crazy, Y/N. I don’t want anyone else. Only you—” 

It’s with one final rough, definitive thrust that Leehan comes inside of you. You’re overcome by the feeling of his hot, warm cum filling your walls, pussy clenching around him as you too experience another orgasm. And as you both recover from your highs, you can feel the atmosphere becoming almost instantaneously stuffy and awkward, the realization of what just happened and all of the things you allowed to come out in the heat of the moment hitting you all at once.

Wanting nothing more than to be released from the clutches of this regretful moment, you pull yourself off of him and wince at the feeling of his cum dripping out of you and onto your inner thighs, some of it spilling onto the couch. 

And without ceremony, Leehan does what he does best – he gathers his clothes and things and begins to put them on as if nothing happened.

The silence that overcomes the two of you as you sit naked and uncovered on the opposite couch, watching him change, is unlike either of you. You’d usually at the very least manage  a few words about how good that was, or small talk about anything fun happening soon on campus. Had Leehan been any good with silence, he might’ve just walked out and not said anything to you at all. 

But it’s because of his own manipulative and egotistical desire to continue to remain in your good graces that he says, in desperation to ease the tension, “Hey. By the way, I’m sorry about the picture I sent you. I don’t usually read your messages, so I didn’t see what you had sent me beforehand.”

You stare at him, a mixture of disbelief and hostility coming over you all at once.

Having completely forgotten about the dick picture incident until now, you feel the emotions from then coming back up in a way that feels shocking given the relative inoffensiveness of his apology just now.

It’s hard for you to pinpoint what exactly about the statement sets you off. 

Maybe it’s that you just had the most intimate, soul-baring sex, and now he’s basically back to reminding you of just how little he values you and your personhood. 

How easy it is for him to completely ignore anything you say to him if it has nothing to do with him and his own pleasure.

And with these emotions more than likely reflected on your face, you watch as Leehan — like a startled deer in headlights — makes what are perhaps the quickest efforts he’s ever done to leave your dorm in a hurry.

“I should get back,” he’s replying coldly as he gets up, throwing his jacket over his body so fast that it folds awkwardly along his sides. “But thanks for this.”

This, he says casually. As if his seed isn’t currently wetting the inside of your legs right now.

“But Leehan, the rain—” you insist. Because you can hear thunder rattling your windows outside and you know that to walk home to his apartment is an entirely irrational notion.

“Don’t worry about me,” he tells you, already halfway to your door as he turns around to look at you, something like regret painted all over his passive expression. “We don’t do that for each other, remember?

And it’s with that last parting, ominous statement that you watch Leehan leave your dorm room without another look in your direction. He’s left your room like this — in a hasty blur without a word or an acknowledgement — more times than you can possibly count. 

So why you find yourself overcome with the feeling that this may be the last time you’ll ever see him again, you’re not entirely sure. 

But it’s because of that gnawing, persistent feeling, eating at you like it never has before, that you get up and find a robe to throw over your body so that you can go and find Leehan before it’s too late.

You’re not even sure of what you’re going to say when you find him standing on the outside porch of your building, head down and phone in his hand as he waits for an Uber. All you know is that it’s pouring buckets outside and even with the bit of roofing over your heads, the wind still blows rain onto your bodies, rendering his hair and face wet. 

“Leehan,” you call out, watching as he turns to you and automatically freezes up as he realizes you followed him out here. “Wait. Don’t go.”

It’s at least a little bit understandable why Leehan appears taken-aback by your words and your presence — any other time you’ve had sex, you’ve never once tried to get him to stay behind, even though he could always notice in your expression or quiet intensity that you wanted him to.

So the fact that you’re here telling him not to go, and because of the nature of the sex you just had, it’s like he already knows that you’re planning to pour your heart out to him, and it’s in fear of that that he finds himself saying wearily, “Y/N—”

“No. Let me talk,” you assert before he can finish, a part of you feeling like if you don’t get these words out now, you never will. And so, fueled by the unexplainable feeling that this may be the last chance for you to tell him how you feel, you channel all the confidence you can possible muster and allow all the suppressed emotions from the last three months to spill out without any filter.

“After we have sex, I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay because you like being with me. I want you to fall asleep with me. I want you to see me and treat me like I’m a human being and not some physical object that you use for sex and nothing else,” you exclaim with a self-pitying scoff.

“And I tried being the chill girl who just goes along with things that are casual. But Leehan, you make me feel things that no one ever has, and it’s not just the sex. For the past few months…it’s felt like my life only truly felt worth living if you were noticing me.”

You can plainly tell by Leehan’s stiff body language and overall lack of reaction that this entire spiel is making him uncomfortable. And as discouraging as the reaction is, now that you’ve started, it feels like you can’t stop until he knows everything that he’s put you through to get to this point.

“And maybe I only feel that way because when we fuck, it’s not like some one-night-stand or throwaway shit. It truly feels like I’m baring my soul to you. And I know that it’s not one sided,” you remark with confidence. Because being in bed with Leehan is the only time when you feel like you can truly understand him. It’s when your hearts, minds, and bodies are in sync and you can both be at your most vulnerable with each other.

“But then you leave, just like you’re doing now. And it makes me feel like the most massive piece of shit you can possibly imagine,” you mumble out with a broken, wet laugh.

Coming to the end of your spiel, you let your arms come down to your sides defeatedly, and with one last imploring look to Leehan’s blank and starry eyes, you ask the question that has been haunting you for the better part of three months now. “So what I guess I want to know is…what is it that’s stopping you from going all in with me? Is it that I’m just…not enough for you to want anything more than sex?” you question, insecurities that have been welling up for so long coming out in a way that has your voice sounding broken. “Or are you just too scared of commitment to allow yourself to feel loved?

“Because that’s exactly what I feel for you. And god dammit, Leehan, but I’m almost 80% sure you feel that way for me too.”

When you’re sure that there’s nothing else left to say and that you got everything you wanted to explain out, it’s with a relieving sigh that your body expels the weight of three months’ worth of pain, sadness, and thoughts of worthlessness. 

And because you know it must be a lot to be on the receiving end of the heaviness of those words, it’s not surprising that the next few seconds after you finish speaking are filled by silence. Watching Leehan stare at you intensely, you allow him the time and the grace to process what he’s heard before you jump to assuming the worst of his silence. 

But then, his first words to you hit you like an icy blast of wind. 

“Y/N, you’re a good person. And the time we’ve spent together has been so much fun for me. But this has always been just that for me…fun. Sex,” he says unambivalently, framing the words delicately though it does nothing to prevent them from hitting you like a freight train. “And I’m sorry if I ever did or said anything that gave you an impression otherwise.

“But honestly, Y/N…” he continues, looking away from you and losing the ability to sugarcoat his thoughts as he expresses, “I told you from the forefront what this was. Why did you say yes if it wasn’t what you wanted?”

He asks a valid question that you unfortunately don’t have the answer to. Because honestly, what were you thinking? Looking back at that moment when he first proposed this arrangement, you have to wonder what possessed you to be delusional enough to think that this would possibly end well.

As embarrassing and humiliating it is to admit, it’s the sex. All those times he told you he desired you, how beautiful you were, how much he wanted you, made you feel like maybe he just didn’t know what he wanted. That eventually he’d come around.

“Because I didn’t think that it was that important to you,” you tell him, feeling your confidence shrinking in real time as your voice comes out quiet and whiny. “I thought…I thought you were changing your mind.”

“I don’t think we should keep doing this, Y/N,” he declares in reply, looking down at the ground in embarrassment. “I like you a lot, but I can’t continue on if I know you have the expectation that this is gonna blossom into something more. I’m sorry, but it’s just not.”

And with that last sobering pronouncement, Leehan runs a hand through his hair, an obviously fake chuckle let out of his lips as he seeks to break the awkwardness of this atmosphere. “This really wasn’t how I wanted this to go,” he mumbles out apologetically, and the way that he stands there stiffly lets you know he wants nothing else than to get away from you right now. 

And sure enough, the sound of a notification going off draws both of your attention to his phone. Like a final dagger to your heart and self-esteem, he’s not even able to hide the relief that floods his expression as he announces, “My Uber’s here, so I just…goodbye, Y/N.”

You watch Leehan step off the porch and into the rain, the lack of light and storm clouds rendering him into nothing more but a blurry, gray silhouette. 

It’s how you will more than likely remember Leehan as you watch him enter the white Mazda that pulls into the driveway. 

Watch the car drive off knowing that you will more than likely never see him again.

He will forever be immortalized in your brain as the stormy force of a presence that came into your life like a tornado, wrecking everything around it and exiting like nothing happened, leaving you a splintered mess of a world to clean up for yourself.

You will be just another Natty, someone Leehan offhandedly mentions to his friends in the car with whoever he chooses to be his next victim, someone he spent a good few weeks with only to never mention them again.

“You’re an enigma, Kim Leehan,” you declared with sincerity. “I don’t want to be your girlfriend either. No offense.”

“None taken,” he replied with breezy indifference, bringing his hand to lay over the one you have on his face. “But don’t say that so easily. You don’t know me well enough yet.”

You rolled your eyes at yet another show of cockiness from him. “And are you saying if I did, I would fall for you?”

Even as his expression remained passive, he replied forebodingly, “Isn’t that usually how these things end?”

He was right.

The next two months of not seeing, talking, or hearing from Leehan go by in a gray-ish, incomprehensible blur.

You complete your classes, managing a passing GPA and thankfully holding on to your scholarship.

You go out to lunch and on study dates with your mutual friends, neglecting to explain why you always need to know who else is coming before you agree to going out.

You attend a couple parties and events on campus, wondering each time whether you’ll run into Leehan and not sure if the rigid feeling over your chest is because of hopefulness or fear at the idea of possibly seeing him. 

And as you pack up your things to get ready to move out for the winter, it feels like you should be over this by now. You spent three months together. Tumultuous, but still only three – it doesn’t seem to make sense why you still feel so hurt.

But you’re now learning that situationships are the hardest to comprehend in their aftermath because it’s hard to know what exactly it is that you’re feeling wistful towards. Leehan isn’t your ex, but he’s also not a friend whom you simply grew apart from. 

He’s another third thing that you can’t quite capture, making it difficult for you to reminisce on your exciting yet tainted memories with one another.

It’s with these thoughts running through your mind that you finish packing your last few items of furniture, readying them to be stowed away in the back of a U-Haul you rented for the day. 

And with your dorm now basically empty, your roommate having moved out a few days before, you can’t help but to view it nostalgically from the vantage point of your doorway, memories of this semester’s escapades coming back to you all at once.

The dresser that you let Leehan stash his condoms in.

Your cheap bed whose loose, metal springs always robbed you of any chance at secrecy in your interactions. 

Moving towards your kitchenette, you stare silently at the flowers he gifted you that one day, still alive despite several weeks of neglect. The little cardboard fish he stuck between the petals makes it appear almost like they’re swimming among colorful, sagging coral reefs.

Your eyes flit over to your couch, where you didn’t know at the time would be the last place he fucked you before he’d never talk to you again.

Going over these memories in your mind, it makes sense then why when you hear a knock resounding on your door, the first thing you think of is Leehan.

But surely, you’re just caught up in the emotions caused by the sudden moment of reflection; it has to be an RA, or a neighbor about to ask if they can borrow a broom and dustpan.

When you go to open your door, you don’t consider for a second that on the other end could be the one person you’re not prepared to see right now.

So when it swings open and you’re greeted by a straight-faced, wide-eyed Leehan, whose body is relaxed against the side of your door, it feels like all of the air is knocked out of your body.

“Hi,” he says plainly, straightening his posture when he sees you staring at him staggeringly. To say that you feel conflicted as you take in his handsome, tall form would be beyond an understatement. It doesn’t feel like it’s been that long since you’ve seen each other, and it’s almost like he could tell you right now that he’s here because he wants to fuck you and it would feel normal, like nothing has changed between the two of you.

But even in just making that mental observation, you feel angry and resentful that such a dynamic was normalized among the two of you for so long that you convinced yourself it was okay to be treated that way.

And as you stew in those feelings of renewed bitterness and frustration, you find yourself suddenly and strongly opposed to him being here, asking bluntly, “What is this? Why are you here?”

“I’m here to apologize,” he answers with an imploring look, and habitually you study his expressions in the hopes of discerning whether he’s being sincere or not.

But it’s with a feeling of resignation that you realize how done you are with trying to constantly read his mind and understand what motivates his decisions.

Because the same way there’s a chance that he really did show up here with good intentions, there’s just as equal a chance that he wants you to trust him again so that he can get his dick wet.

And so, in a move that brings you an immature level of satisfaction, you close the door on his face without another word.

You hear him exclaiming loudly “Y/N, wait!” on the other side of the door but you’ve already made up your mind, deciding that whatever he has to say isn’t worthy of your time or attention.

You’re done with his manipulative behavior, with his aloofness and undeserved self-assuredness, but most of all you’re tired of being made to feel like shit. And that’s all he ever did in those few months that you were sleeping together.

As you retreat to your bedroom, you go to return to packing your things, but the adrenaline from the passing moment makes your hand shake and your body pulse energetically. You need a second to pause and breathe and process what’s just happened, to walk around and pace away all of this unresolved energy. 

But then you turn around to go back out into your living room, and that’s when you see Leehan standing right outside the arch of your bedroom doorway.

“Jesus fucking christ, Leehan!” you exclaim in a mixture of both surprise, frustration, and confusion as you wonder whether he broke in or if you—

“You left the door unlocked,” he replies calmly, and even though he knows he has a lot to make up for, he still can’t help the smirk that comes to his face as he jokes, “Kinda 101 not to do that if you don’t want someone coming in. That’s like me leaving the filter of my fish tank —”

“Get out, Leehan. Get out! I have nothing left I want to say to you!” you shout, impatient and uncaring to his jokes and his dimples and everything else about him that used to charm you. It’s all meaningless to you now, and you don’t care if you look crazy or unhinged when you go to physically push him out of your dorm.

But even with the nonchalant, noncommittal way he holds onto your wrist to restrain you, you still only manage to move him a few steps, much to your dismay and rage.

And so, in a heat-of-the-moment, emotionally driven decision, you move to close your bedroom door on his face. While successful in keeping him out of your bedroom, you don’t even realize until seconds later that he’s still free to roam in your hallway, kitchenette, and living room, while you’ve essentially just locked yourself in.

Predictably, you can hear Leehan chuckling outside of your door as he makes this same realization.

“You know, if it was your goal to get me to leave, then I’m not sure locking yourself in your room really…” he begins to say, not able to keep the amusement out of his voice at the foolish mistake on your part. But, remembering the reason why he came here in the first place, he tones it down to say soberly, “Nevermind. It doesn't matter.”

You walk over to the side of your bedroom that’s opposite from the doorway, sitting down on the floor, determined to tune out whatever it is that Leehan is about to say. Maybe if you stay silent and let him tire himself out, he’ll eventually leave knowing that there’s nothing he can say to make up for how he’s made you feel.

“I”m not super good at explaining myself, or talking at all, honestly. I go on tangents and my mind is just…a giant fucking minefield. So I wrote down what I wanted to tell you.”

Leehan’s voice is distorted but nonetheless able to be heard clearly through the thin wood that makes up your door, so much so that you can clearly hear the crumpling noises of a paper being unraveled as he starts to read. 

“If you’re listening to me read this, it’s because I somehow managed to convince you to hear me out. Either that, or I broke into your dorm, which feels like the more likely option,” he says with almost no emotion behind the words, and against your own discipline, you can feel your lips twitching into a smirk automatically in reaction to his strange, off putting way of speaking.

“I know my insistence can come off as crass given how shitty of a person I’ve been to you. But I knew that today was move-out day, and I needed you to hear me out before you left.”

You hear him take a deep breath before continuing with the next part of his speech. “As you know, I’m a pretty fearless person. But when it comes to admitting my feelings for you, I’ve had a much harder time. Truthfully, since I met you, it’s been because of my own immaturity that I’ve seen other girls romantically. Even though I always knew my feelings for you were different, I pushed them away in the hopes of avoiding having to commit to anyone. When you told me how you really felt for me, truthfully, it scared me. I didn’t want to know what my life would look like if I decided to be with just one person.

“I thought that by rejecting you, by being away from you for this long, that my feelings for you would go away,” he remarks with the same sort of unfeeling, neutral tone to his voice, as if he knows the explanation behind his actions is unimportant given how they’ve impacted you. “I wanted to view you as just another name on a long list.”

But it’s with his next words that passion and sincerity and longing bleed into his voice all at once to say, “But it’s taken me this time of being away from you to realize that…I’m still not over you.”

After minutes of hanging onto his every word despite every inclination that has been telling you to do otherwise, it’s those last five words that hit you like a freight train. 

And you know it’s foolish and dumb to be believing anything that comes out of his mouth anymore, but you suppose it’s no different from all of the other times you continued to let him in even when he showed you so many times why you shouldn’t. 

Your reasoning remains the same – you just feel an irrational pull to him that is all-consuming, your heart connected to his in a way you can’t control. 

And it doesn’t help that everything he says next is all of the affirmation you’ve been wanting and needing him to give you throughout your entire time of sleeping together. “You deserve someone that’s going to treat you with respect. Someone that makes you feel loved and beautiful and desired. Someone with the courage to be vulnerable and who will care for you in your most vulnerable moments. And I’m sorry if you felt like you didn’t have that with me,” he remarks, and you don’t even realize you’ve been holding your breath throughout his spiel until your chest literally contracts from the lack of air to your lungs.

“But if you can find some way to forgive me, then I want to make us work,” he asserts pleadingly. And with the finality that it feels like follows that statement, you get the feeling that what he says next is no longer being read off the paper. 

Especially when you can hear what you think is the top of his head, leaned against the door with a small thunk as he quietly laments, “I want you, Y/N. Not just sexually, but for everything that makes you who you are. It’s always been you. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it.” 

It’s quiet after that, so much so that you can hear his small and broken breaths being let out against the wall. You hear what you think is the sound of his hand being brought up to rest next to his head. And as the feeling of being pulled in so many directions takes over you, your heart in a heated battle with your brain, it’s after a few moments of silence that you stand up and walk over towards the door. 

Leehan, observing the shadows of your footsteps through the little gap at the bottom of the door, perks up when it’s just a thin barrier of wood that keeps you from being face-to-face with one another.

You prepare yourself to be annoyed when you open the door in expectation that he will be his usual unreadable, unserious self. 

But it’s in surprise but also a little relief that what you find when you face him is the expression of a man who’s truly understood the gravity of his mistakes and feels shameful over them.

“You look really pretty,” he blurts out, the suddenness of the remark almost betraying your slowly but surely growing feelings of understanding towards him. But you also can’t help that his random candor makes you laugh, reminded of some of your earlier interactions as he sheepishly says, “Sorry, bad timing.”

Still standing a fair distance away from him, the tip of your toes just barely meeting the tip of his as you look down at them to avoid eye contact, you attempt to ease the tension of the moment with a shy but truthful, “Thank you, Leehan. For the compliment and for the apology.”

You can feel the heat of his gaze as he tilts his head to stare at you, his attention feeling hopeful but not in a way that makes you feel pressured, but in a way that has you compelled to be completely vulnerable and honest with him.

“I’m just…really scared that you’ll hurt me,” you confess somberly, and it still feels strange to even say things like this to him because you’ve spent so much time suppressing your negative emotions when it comes to Leehan. Scared that you’d lose his approval and feeling like you needed such approval to feel good about yourself.

But over time as your relationship progressed and you found yourself little by little regaining the sense of self that your interactions with Leehan robbed you of, you were able to realize that you didn’t deserve to be treated like an afterthought, like an object only useful if it was giving satisfaction to someone else.

And it was in resentment that over these two months of not speaking you felt like Leehan believed that, too.

But now after hearing him explain himself and believing genuinely that he wants to be with you, you now battle with the parts of you that are scared to believe him in fear of getting hurt and the parts of you that so badly also want to be in a relationship with him.

“I’m not scared,” he tells you, the confidence you’ve come to know him for coming out more strongly than ever before. “I’ve got you, remember?”

He then goes to place his two middle fingers underneath your chin, pushing your jaw upward so that you’re forced into eye contact. Staring into his endless and piercing eyes, it’s for the first time that you feel like you understand him in a non-sexual context. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” you mumble quietly in reply.

And it’s as you feel your lips twitching into a content smile that Leehan leans in to kiss you, and you accept the gesture without question.

five months later

“I wanna go half on a baby with you.”

These are the words that Leehan remarks to your sleeping form as you lay comfortably beside him in bed, sleeping but getting roused into attention by the faint sound of his voice.

“A fish baby, of course,” he clarifies, though you don’t even register what he’s saying as you remain half-asleep. “I think the ones in my tank are getting lonely.”

It’s hard to tell sometimes whether Leehan is musing out loud to himself or talking directly to you, but either way, the deep tone of his voice wakes you up just the same. 

You lay on your stomach, opening one eye to find him sitting up on his elbow and staring down at you with a curious expression on his face. His hand, resting on your back, draws unintelligible figures on the skin that’s left uncovered by your night shirt. 

All in all, it's a pretty domestic, intimate scene, had you not glanced over at your phone to find how early it was.

“Leehan, it’s seven a.m,” you complain to your boyfriend who still just stares dreamily at your sleepy figure. “What are you yapping about?”

Too familiar with your morning grumpiness to be phased by it, it’s with an unmoved expression that Leehan casually replies, “Just about how much I want a baby with you.”

When you hear those words come out of Leehan’s mouth, you’re sure you must still be asleep and that this is just an incredibly vivid dream. Either that, or you’re dating the strangest person in the world. 

Given that both realities are entirely plausible, it’s in your tiredness and confusion that you sit up from the bed completely, staring at a relaxed Leehan with raised eyebrows. “Don’t you think we’re a little young for that? I mean eventually, sure, but while we’re in school—”

“I was talking about fish,” he interrupts you to say, chuckling at your confused expression and giggling again when you pout at being laughed at. “But since you’re so eager, why don’t I put a baby in you right now?”

Your own laughter in reaction to his words is suppressed when he presses a large hand on your stomach, pushing you back down on the bed. He leans in to kiss you, but per usual, you refuse to make things easy for him.

Reaching behind your head, you grab a pillow and smack him in the face with it, creating a barrier between your bodies. “You’re such a weirdo,” you playfully quip, a designation he only takes in stride as he goes to throw the pillow somewhere on the floor.

“I’m your weirdo though,” he emphasizes, and it’s as you’re both smiling in satisfaction that he leans in to press his lips against yours.

And as his cold hands roam your warm body, you’re hit with a sudden wave of happiness as you acknowledge how far gone the days of having to wish for him to stay even fir minutes after you’ve had sex truly are. 

Because in the past five months since you’ve gotten together exclusively, not only is it routine for him to stay behind, but you also get to wake up together and experience these sleepy, romantic moments. 

The moments when he slowly kisses down your body, dragging his plush lips down your sternum until he’s positioned between your legs.

The moments when you pull softly at his hair as he languidly drags his tongue up and down your folds, begging you in his gruff, sleep-affected voice to come all over his face.

The moments when you could be sponning sideways, on top of him, or below him and he’ll still find a way to spread your legs apart, pressing his long, veiny cock inside of you until you’re overwhelmed by how full you are. 

The moments where his tiredness renders him impatient and he fucks into you so roughly that you can barely form words. 

The moments when he kisses you lazily through every thrust until the sex becomes so good that all you can manage is the occasional swipe of your tongue against his lips or a whimper into his mouth.

The moments when you reach your climax together and he rocks his come in and out of you like he never intends on pulling out.

The moment when you moan out his name, understanding why when you first met he insisted that to know it was a privilege. That to know him is a privilege.

And finally, your favorite, the moments when you either fall back asleep in each other’s hold or get up to shower the sleepiness and sweat off of each other. 

Today is one of those days that you relent to getting up and showering, convinced only by the fact that neither of you has a morning class, making it a perfect day to visit the pet shop conveniently located just a few miles from your college town.

“What about this one?” 

You turn to face Leehan in the fish tank lined aisle of the pet store, lips curling into a smile as you observe him pressing his face up to the glass in awe. As you come up to his side to view the brown-colored fish that have him so captivated, it’s in a surge of honesty that you reply, “Don’t you think they’re kind of…ugly?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you watch your boyfriend gasps dramatically in reaction to your words, even brushing his hand against the fish tank in a gesture akin to patting someone's head. “They can hear you, you know. I’m so sorry, fishies.”

Ignoring his childishness, you look around at the surrounding fish and sigh as you’re overwhelmed by all the different options. “Honestly, Leehan, you should just pick one. They all look the same to me.”

“But it should be something we both like,” he answers with a pout, circling the aisles a few more times before finally stopping at a tank in the very corner. 

Inside of it are an array of multi-colored fish, but the one that stands out to you is an entirely white one with a patch of vibrant red at the top of its head. 

It would be indistinguishable from a goldfish had it not been for its striking color and the appendage that looks almost like an inside-out brain on its head. 

A label beside the tank reads Oranda. 

“What about this one?” asks Leehan in curiosity, and in an almost alarming way, he points out the exact same fish you were just eyeing. 

You come around to the other side of the tank to view it from another angle, giggling innocently when you make eye-contact with Leehan through the distorted lens of the water. “It’s pretty,” you remark simply, and because Leehan has come to know you so well, he knows that the simple attribution is a sign of high praise from you.

“Should we make it ours?” he asks you officially, and though you’re certain that this is the fish you’ve been looking for, there’s one question popping up in your brain that you still can’t find the answer to.

“What should we name it?”

You both take a beat to ponder on the question. Leehan chimes in first, blurting out, “I know. Loony.”

At this, you scoff, unsure as to where he would have gotten such an idea from. “Are you trying to say that our child is crazy?” you quip in feigned offense. 

“No. It’s short for lunar eclipse. That’s when I knew we were gonna be more than just a one night stand,” he tells you sincerely, and with that context you find yourself becoming quickly attached to both the name and the fish who you take home in a plastic bag only moments later.

You allow Leehan to take the lead in homing Loony, a process that involves lots of complicated jargon about adjusting the water temperature and changing the salinity that you mostly pretend to understand as he explains it to you. 

And when you are finally able to sit side by side in front of the tank and watch through the glass as Loony swims among the other fish, it’s with an adoring tone of voice that you hear Leehan say, “It’s pretty, awesome, right?”

At the sound of his voice, you turn to face him, and without being entirely conscious of it, you simply take in his features and how content he looks to be here, with you and with these fishes.

“Yeah,” you reply, laying down and resting your head on his shoulder. “It’s awesome.”

taglist: @lailols @papichulomacy @0310s @softiwoon @gardenforwon @cherrytaesan @mryuyux @saintriots @lonelylandofan @cyber-tiny @keyywrld @isabellah29 @amerecerasus @cadidupped @suhovhs @lionhanie @taesanmoon @revelettre @s9nwoo @brachioswrld @moneygal0re @karatttttt

thank you all sm for your support on this fic <3 your reactions, feedback, and compliments have meant the world

[dumbofass-homo]

I've been thinking about how Halsin is always the caretaker.

He takes care of nature, but that's obvious. He takes care of a bunch of orphaned kids in the endgame. He took care of the grove, healed people, took in refugees. He cares about Tav (even if he is not Tav's partner) and the rest of the weirdos in the party. He cares.

It's so easy to forget that he is also a person that needs caring for. He is large and always has his emotions under control, so people tend to brush off his needs, sometimes subconsciously. And he is used to it, living for as long as he has.

It even shows in the fanart and fanfics - he is almost always the one to offer support and encouragement, emotional or otherwise. In the smutty works, he is almost exclusively the top, caring for his partners'pleasure.

I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this or what I'm trying to say, but I think he would just melt if his partners and/or companions would slowly start taking things off his shoulders.

The children want bedtime stories? Astarion will do you one better. He will act out the heroic victory over a certain vampire with so much flare he will be the talk of the settlement for days to come. He most certainly didn't do that to get the kids off Halsin's bear back and most definitely doesn't enjoy his new fans.

Lae'zel isn't affectionate, no, not at all. It's just that when she sees how dull his blades are, it infuriates her. Definitely. So she takes them, along with his armor and polishes everything to perfection, just like she would her own. The githyanki cannot allow their metal to be in less than perfect condition, you see.

New refugees came to the settlement and Tav gets them settled, shows them the place they've built and makes sure they know they're safe. The newcomers are a little baffled that one of the saviors of Baldur's gate is so normal, and it gives them reassurance. Tav wants to make sure not everyone needs to look to Halsin for the smallest things.

In the midst of the shadow curse, despite their animosity, Shadowheart infuses several items around camp with light. She knows he must miss the sun.

In Rivington, Gale scouts for ingredients for a certain cake. He can't find what he's looking for, the settlement is very short on sweets. But with his little eye (and a bit of magic) he finds a honey bee hive. A few blisters and agry bees later - a small honeycake is done, served with tea. Gale didn't want to make assumptions but Tav had told him their favorite bear loves honey.

On a particularly dreadful night, Wyll invites Alfira to play them a few tunes. He goes from person to person and gets them to their feet to do a little dance. Halsin is sure he has two left feet so he is reluctant to try - but everyone cheers and encourages him so he does, peer pressure be damned. He steps on Wyll's feet and has no idea how to move his body in sync, but Wyll isn't phased by it. He moves and twirls him around and Halsin is sure that looks absolutely ridiculous - but he is having fun, for the first time in a long time.

[satorusugurugurl]

okay so 1st of all i love your posts

can you do nanami with a breeding kink plsss

ty <3333

First off thank you so so much!!

And secondly heck yes!! 😏

More Than Words

Summary: Your husband, Nanami Kento decides he’s ready to take your marriage to the next level.

Pairing: Nanami Kento x FAB!Reader

Warnings: Teeth rotting fluff! Super romantic, language, dirty talk, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, unprotected sex

Word Count: 2,704

A/N: This, this did things to me. But I liked it 🥵

Nanami watched you closely from the kitchen. You sat outside on the porch, sipping tea as you scrolled through your phone. The two of you made it a point to spend the evenings outside, enjoying the setting sun and breathing fresh air. He had just been outside with you but excused himself to try and settle his nerves.

He would ask you tonight if you were ready to start trying for a baby.

The thought of having a child hadn’t crossed his mind in your two years of marriage until last weekend. You two had gone to dinner with one of your coworkers, who had just been blessed with a baby boy. You were practically glowing as you held the little boy in your arms. The way you spoke softly, gently rocking them while humming? It was a side of you Nanami had never seen before.

The raw awe and amazement etched on your face was a look he desperately needed to see again. To see you staring at the child you both made would be a sight that would forever linger in his daydreams until he made sure it came true. To step in that direction, he needed to bring it up with you.

You weren’t on birth control. Every single form you tried since you were seventeen made you sick. From the pills to the shots, you considered trying the IUD, but you chicken out at the last second. The entirety of your sexual relationship with Nanami had always been with the use of condoms. So, if you agreed with him, that would mean you’d be doing it raw for the first time in either of your lives.

So he was nervous beyond all words, from wanting to bring a child into the world to experiencing having sex at its rawest form. Thoughts swarmed his mind in a slurry. There was a lot for both of you to consider. Both of you. Nanami couldn’t move forward without talking to you.

With a deep exhale, Nanami headed back outside, shutting the door behind him. “Sorry about that.” He whispered as he sat next to you on the outdoor couch.

“Mmm,” you immediately snuggled next to him, “I was about to call for a search party.” You teased, putting your phone away. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Mhmm,” You could easily see through that heavily played hum. Something was on his mind.

“Nanami Kento, I hate to break it to you, but I know you better than you know yourself. You have something on your mind.” Tilting your head up, you watched the tips of his ears flush before spreading down the nape of his neck. “So, you might as well talk to me.” You paused, “You know, seeing that I’m your wife.” You wiggled your left hand in front of his face—your wedding ring sparkling in the pastel colors of the setting sun.

“My wife.”

Your breath hitched as Nanami’s larger hand wrapped around your smaller one. Bringing your ring to his lips, pressing a kiss against it. His eyes were shut; he looked handsome, pondering whatever clouded his mind. Feeling your gaze on him, Nanami slowly opened his eyes, looking down at you.

“But you’re so much more than just my wife Y/N.” His fingers trailed slowly over your palm, tracing the lines over your skin. “You’re my best friend, partner, the love of my life.” Nanami brought your palm to his mouth, retracing the path of his fingers with his lips. “You’re my purpose, my reason to keep going.”

“Kento.” You whispered in awe as he turned the both of you so you were facing each other head-on.

“My soul.” He placed both hands on yours. “My strength.” You shuddered as his heated palm moved up your arms, trailing them slowly towards your shoulders. “My everything.” You moaned as his hands that so lovingly traced over your arms gently cupped your face. “But I hate to admit that I want more.”

His thumbs lovingly caressed your cheeks, bringing you flush against his chest. “More?” You followed his lead, running your hands slowly down his pecs and over his ab’s, heading towards his crotch. “How much more?” The groan that left his lips was deep and full of unfiltered need.

“I don’t just want you to be my best friend, partner, or wife, Y/N.” His lips were centimeters from yours. Your breath mingled with his as you breathed slowly in the last fragments of sunlight. “I want you to be the mother of my children.”

Kento saw the way your eyes lit up. A glimmering sparkle in Y/E/C irises. Just like you knew him, Kento knew you better than yourself. The way you melted against him, drawing yourself as close as you could on the small loveseat, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind.

The irrational fears and hesitation vanished as you whimpered. “I want that so bad, Ken; I want to be the moth—“ your husband silenced you with a searing kiss.

You followed his lead, kissing him as his gentle touch turned into something more needy, more primal. There was a desire he’d never felt before boiling deep within his chest. Kento needed you, needed to be buried inside of you, filling you with his cum, ensuring that you would be, without a doubt, pregnant with his child.

He was going to breed you.

Pulling away, you gasped for air, a string of saliva connected between your lips. Nanami’s chest rose and fell with each strangled breath as he so desperately tried to refrain from destroying you. Seeing the conflicted expression on his face, you decided to help. What kind of wife would you be if you didn’t? Dropping to your knees, you slowly pulled the waistband of his lounge pants down.

“Y/N love, what are you doing?”

“Shh~” you glanced at him, “you need to relax. Let me help clear your mind.”

Your delicate fingers traced the v-line of his crotch up and down. His hips jerked up, cock throbbing within his boxers. His brown eyes followed your hands, watching you tug his boxers down. His already hard, throbbing cock smacked against his stomach with a smack, his pre-cum smearing over his toned skin. The sight of his thick length had your mouth watering. Wrapping your hand around the base, you slowly stroked up and down, smearing his pre-cum over his entire length.

“Fuucck,” Nanami’s voice was almost inaudible as he groaned. Hearing him curse like that’s had your cunt throbbing, your slick coating your panties. “Fuck Y/N, that’s feels so fucking good.”

“Oh, my darling husband,” He peered down at you through half-lidded eyes, “you haven’t felt anything yet.” You took him in your mouth, and the salty yet sweet taste of him hit your tastebuds, making you whine around him. You bobbed your head up and down slowly, coating the throbbing tip with your saliva before you moved further down his shaft, gagging as his cock hit the back of your throat.

You slowly lifted your head back up when his hand wrapped into your hair. You shut your eyes, bracing yourself for him to slam your back down around his throbbing length. Much to your surprise, he did the complete opposite. Yanking your hair, he practically had to pry you off of him, his chest heaving as he forced you to look into his eyes.

“Did you not understand what I said earlier?” He stood, releasing his grip on your hair.

“I did; you want to make babies with me.”

“Mhmm,” he hummed, taking your hand in his helping you to your feet. “And how do you suppose I do that if I cum down your throat.” Nanami didn’t even allow you to consider an answer. “Looks like I need to give you a thorough demonstration of how it works.”

“Oh my god!” You laughed as Kento lifted you, carrying you inside towards your bedroom. “I guess a demonstration would be beneficial in this case.” You breathed out breathlessly as he tossed you onto the bed. “Just so you know, I might need several demonstrations.”

“I agree; the more demonstrations, the better.” Your husband grabbed the hem of your shirt, tugging it up and over your head before tossing it to the floor. “To start, we need to remove these pesky clothes.”

You tried to keep a serious face as you followed his lead. Shirts, pants, and underwear piled on the floor around your bed. Only once the two of you were bare, Kento situated between your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his hips. The giggling and joking around subsided into a comfortable silence. While the room was thick with tension, it didn’t change the fact that both of you were ready for this. To experience making love without a pesky condom.

“Y/N.” Nanami drew your attention to his face as he spoke. “I love you.” His fingers rubbed small lazy circles over your clit. The sensation had you bucking against his hand, eager for more than the gentle caressing he was giving you.

“I-fuck feels good. I love you too, Kento.”

His fingers began moving faster, the circles tighter as his eyes trailed over your body. He was taking a mental picture of you in this moment, imagining how you’d look several months down the road. Breast and belly swollen with the child he put inside of you. You’d be even more gorgeous than you already were, which seemed utterly unfathomable to him. The images of you, pregnant with your child, God, it was more pornographic than any movie or book he’s seen. A lot of it had to be because of you. Nanami was so fucked up over the thought of breeding you.

“Ke-Kento, I-I’m gonna cum!” Your whimpers and whines brought him back to the moment. “Stop. I wanna cum with you inside of me.”

He leaned down, kissing you softly, his hand slowing down. You lazily kissed him back before gasping as you felt his leaking tip rub up and down your slit. Without the condom, you could feel just how hot and hard he was. Kento’s arms were caging around your head. His wide eyes mirrored what you imagined you looked like. The feeling of your bare wet pussy felt-ten times better than he imagined. And he wasn’t even inside you yet.

“You’re so wet,” his eyes fluttered shut, “you felt good every time I slid into you before, but this, god, this is going to be a whole new experience.”

“Y-Yeah feels good, though.”

“Very good.”

Nanami continued gritting his teeth as he slowly slid into you. Your silky wet, warm walls hugged his cock in a way he could never experience with condoms before. The raw feeling had him clenching his fists into the covers, furrowing his brows together as he desperately tried not to cum inside of you like a virgin. He needed to focus on something other than your pussy, so he focused his attention on your face.

Which was a major mistake on his part.

Cheeks flushed; your mouth was frozen in an ‘O’ shape. And fuck, the whimpers and way your chest heaved it made his knees weak. “S-So hot, oh my god Kento your cock is so hot and velvety.” His eyes were as wide as saucers as you slowly began rocking against him, trying to get his thick, cock deeper inside of you. “Please don’t stop, fuck me, please fuck me. Need to feel you, I need more.” Between your cunt squeezing him and the needy tone of your voice, Nanami lost all self control.

His hips slammed against your, causing a scream to escape you as your arched your back off the bed. As soon as he was buried deep inside your wet pussy, he was pulling out before slamming back inside your tight spongy walls. You were hit with a sudden wave or revelation as to why people hated wearing condoms. They prevent you from feeling the velvety smooth pull of your husband cock as he slammed into you over and over again. You could feel his cock throbbing, leaking inside of you, God it felt so good to be fucking you raw like this.

“Fuck your pussy is perfect, so fucking wet, so tight just for me.” His lips pressed against your, his thrusts finding the perfect rhythm as you cried into his mouth.

“Yes Ken, yes, fuck me, fuck me!”

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll get pregnant off the first try.” He chuckled his hands groping your breasts, kneading them. Nanami whined, picturing them swollen with milk. “Even if that happens, I’m just going to keep fucking you full of me cum, just to be safe. God fuck Y/N!” His shameless words had you drowning in pleasure as you twitched around his perfect cock. “Ah~ fuck I felt you twitch. You like knowing that your husband is going to stop at nothing, until your breed?”

“Oh, oh fuck, yes, I want it, I want it!”

“Such a sweet girl, you want it?” He groaned in your ear, feeling you clamp down harder around him as his thrusts losing his rhythm. “Tell me you want me to breed you. Tell me you want me to be the first and only man to fill your tight cunt with cum.”

“Kento~ nngh, yes, breed me, make me yours in every way you can! Cum inside me, please, please!” Your begging, the moans, only had him whining and growling louder, fucking into you like he never had before. So rough, so passionately, it was perfect. All through subsided as you cried out Nanami had angled his hips to brush against your g-spot before pressing directly into your cervix. “Holy fuck yes, fill me up Ken!”

More dirty words and curses spilled from your tongue as you felt yourself approaching your orgasm. The tightening coil in your lower abdomen, had your withering under your husband. Your squirming had Nanami fucking harder into you, His mouth on yours as he made love to you like the world was going to end. In his horny brain it might just happen if he didn’t fuck his cum into you soon.

“That’s it, good girl, good fucking girl~ take it, fucking take all of it.” His thrusts were jerky, his balls tightening as your dug your heels into his ass, successfully pulling his deeper inside of you. “Ah fuck! You’re such a good girl, so eager to be the future mother of my children.” All you were capable of doing was nodding as you cried out around him with each deep thrust. “Fuck, get pregnant Y/N, cum on my cock, and milk me for all that I’m worth.”

“K-Kento! Ken!”

“That’s it, love~ fuckin’ cum, cum all over me, good girl.”

“Nnngh!!” A scream ripped through your throat as Kento sped up, his thumb rubbing your clit as you came, extending your orgasm.

Your cum coated his cock, the warm slickness and you throbbing walls urged him to do exactly what he had been promising to do. “Get pregnant, take it, take all my cum. I’m cumming, oh my god I’m cumm-“ Kento cut himself off by slamming his lips against your, his tongue slid into your mouth as he moaned. His cock spurted and spurted, filling you full of his cum the sensation was strange, warm, and new.

But it felt so fucking good.

Pulling away from you, Kento gasped for air as he reached up gentle caressing your face as you both tried to catch your breath. Once Nanami managed to swallow down enough air to slow his heart rate, he beamed down at you. “Y/N I love you.” He didn’t say anything else, because his loving touch, and the gentle kisses he peppered over your face spoke volumes.

Those strong loving arms held you close, pulling you onto your sides. His cock keeping your bodies connected as he spooned you. Your husband loved you more than words could describe. The mere gentleness of this moment, had you praying that if you were to get pregnant, this was the moment it happened.

[icyminghao]

a little sweet

pairing: minghao x gn!reader genre: fluff, drabble, established relationship warning(s): mentions of drinking (alcohol) word count: 1.1k

summary: minghao learns of you challenging seungkwan and seokmin to a karaoke battle, only to find you singing an unexpected song.

a/n: the lyrics of the song featured (see title) have been translated to english (though i think it sounds more aesthetic in chinese, so reading this in tandem with listening to the song would enhance your experience <3)

from the universe of i don’t understand (but i love you) and (pretty) hungry, but can be read as a standalone!

based on this request by an anon!

“Myungho, Jun and your partner are about to own Seungkwan and Seokmin at the karaoke machine! You should go watch,” Soonyoung interrupts your boyfriend’s tea session with Wonwoo, poking his head through the tiny gap between the sliding balcony door and the wall as he giggles uncontrollably.

Minghao raises his eyebrows, pleasantly surprised.

You and Minghao had come over to Mingyu and Wonwoo’s shared apartment to hang out with all twelve of his best friends, and he was slightly worried you’d feel out of place here despite your insistence for him to go enjoy his “tea party” with Wonwoo at the balcony.

Processing the new information given to him by Soonyoung, Minghao can’t help but smile. There was nothing to worry about.

Getting up from his seat, Minghao sets his tea cup down on the patio table as he walks through the balcony door, now opened wider thanks to a very excited Soonyoung, only to be greeted with raucous cheers from Seungkwan and Seokmin as they hype you and Junhui up.

The rest of the boys surround the living room, all eyes focused on you and Junhui standing on either side of the television.

Minghao smiles, utterly endeared by the sight before him, and the determined look in your eyes as you face the crowd. You haven’t noticed him yet, seemingly focused on the melody that’s starting to play over the speakers.

A melody that’s oddly familiar to Minghao, belonging to a song he didn’t expect you to know.

“I’ll pick an apple and wait for you to pass by this door,” Junhui starts off the song as Minghao is left reeling at this series of events, “Give it to you to quench your thirst.”

You and Junhui are currently singing a song that’s relatively popular in Minghao’s country. One might even go so far as to say it’s a classic, and Minghao is shocked yet impressed that you know this song.

“Like a Coke in summer or hot cocoa in the winter, you’re the right character at the right time,” it’s now your turn to sing, and you’re absolutely on point with the lyrics and pronunciation, much to Minghao’s surprise. The corner of his lips turn up gradually as he looks on the situation with nothing but the softest eyes, and it’s then that you notice him as Junhui is singing his lines.

Your eyes light up upon meeting Minghao’s endeared ones, and you beam at him. Minghao’s breath hitches, and he suddenly feels as if the two of you are the only ones in this room.

“I also don’t know why, my wounds haven’t fully healed,” you sing into the microphone, eyes never leaving his, “Yet you’ve barged into my heart.”

“You have helped me see a flower blossom in the desert,” the both of you are none the wiser, but the boys around you have stopped their cheers and hollers, and have turned to sending you and Minghao disgusted looks. Even Junhui has stopped his singing, instead walking over to your boyfriend to pass him the microphone.

“You have inspired me to write you a love song every day,” Minghao takes over the duet, cutting through the couches to stand beside you.

“Using the most romantic chorus, you also quietly sang along,” the both of you sing in unison, eyes boring into each other’s as the whole world fades into insignificance.

“Our eyes confirm our decision.”

The music abruptly cuts off, and you look toward the commotion to find Seol, Wonwoo’s puppy, standing on the television remote. The boys around you all cheer at the cessation of your public display of affection, and you simply laugh as Minghao continues staring at you like nothing happened.

“Well,” Seungkwan interrupts the cheering and hollering, “you certainly owned us at karaoke, just not in the way we expected you to.”

The boys all laugh, some coming up to smack Minghao on the back, while most of them resume what they were doing prior to the duet.

You turn to Minghao, who’s still looking at you much like you’d hung all the stars in the sky. You grab his microphone and put it down on the coffee table along with yours, then reach out to take both his hands in yours.

“How do you know that song?” Minghao asks, the softest of smiles resting on his face.

You grin back at him. “I heard it on TikTok, so I asked Junhui to teach me the lyrics so I could sing it to you.”

Minghao chuckles. “And he did it? Willingly?”

“Well, no, of course not,” you shake your head, and Minghao smiles wider. “He made me sing it with him here so he could beat Seungkwan and Seokmin at karaoke.”

“He also told me to call you…” you pause, seemingly trying to recall what your mutual friend had said. Minghao nods, waiting patiently for you to gather your thoughts. “Laogong!”

Minghao freezes. His body heats up, and he just knows the tips of his ears are turning red. Thankfully, no one around the both of you are paying any attention to your conversation, or Minghao would have been teased to no end already. You tilt your head in confusion at Minghao’s lack of response.

Minghao clears his throat. “Did… did Junhui tell you what that means?”

“Nope!” you chirp, completely clueless, and your expression gradually morphs into one of worry. “Why? Does it mean something bad?”

“No!” Minghao dismisses your worries immediately, unintentionally raising his voice before wincing and muttering a small apology. “No, love*, it doesn’t mean anything bad, don’t worry.”

You nod, relieved, before looking at him with a glint of curiosity in your eyes. “Well, what does it mean, then?”

“It’s…” Minghao attempts to explain, still giddy from the fact that you’d used the term on him, “it’s a term of endearment, but typically used for someone who’s your husband.”

Your eyes widen upon hearing Minghao’s explanation, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Minghao chuckles at the sight, removing one of his hands from yours to pat your head. “I like it.”

“Really?” you grin, squeezing the hand that’s still in yours, “Should I call you Laogong more often, then?”

“You can call me anything you want, love,” Minghao squeezes your hands back, pinching your cheek with the hand that was resting on your head.

“Well, Laogong, we should probably join the boys at the dining table, don’t you think?” you grin, removing your hands from his to motion towards the dining area, where the boys have gathered to begin their drinking games.

Minghao hums, pretending to think, when in reality you both know his answer is as clear as day. “I don’t want to. Let’s get out of here?”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Gladly.”

*: love — supposed to be a translation of the word in the reader’s native language, but can also be taken as the English term of endearment (if that makes sense)

a/n 2: i guess i’m starting to write based on requests again >< saw this one and couldn’t help but think of my lovely idubily couple so i just had to i love them sm </3

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @slytherinshua @weird-bookworm @viscade @pepperonidk @belladaises @tastymintchocolate @dahliatopia @kwantaro-deactivated20240614 @chanceonceli @hrts4hanniehae @leehanascent @nonononranghaee

masterlist

[unoislazy]

BES College Au Headcanons

Characters included: Mizu, Taigen, Ringo, Akemi, Madame Kaji

There are some Mizu x Reader hints shoved in here

A/N: I’m just gonna stop saying what I plan to write next cause every time I do I suddenly either can’t write anymore or something ruins my plans entirely

Also there was an ask that went with this but It got lost in my inbox so I’m sorry to whoever asked but here you go!

Cutie Patootie

————————————————————

Mizu In College

-mizu barely does her homework

-why write things when train?

-she practically lives at the gym

-just cause it’s modern doesn’t mean she has to stop training

-you’d meet her through class

-you had to sit next to her and she was incredibly intimidating at first

-eventually, thanks to certain professors incessant need to give group work, you had to talk to her and realized she’s not as scary as she first seemed

-she’s not a huge party goer

-the one and only time she’d go to a party is because you invited her to go with you after you were invited by Taigen

-Taigen would essentially be a frat boy

-I know you saw how he was with those women who WERENT AKEMI in the first episode

-mizu wouldn’t be able to stand him

-despite not sticking around you the entire time Mizu would literally watch you like a hawk

-she doesn’t have many friends so she doesn’t really have any other reason to be there

-she’s just being a “good friend”

-she’s not a huge drinker either, but if she gets bored she’d take a few sips

-then a few more

-and maybe just a few more

-Taigen would invite you to a party and probably try and hit on you despite it being well known that him and akemi are together

-mizu, of course would’ve seen this, and swooped in no matter how far past tipsy she might’ve been

-she’s good at faking being sober

-100% would “fake” being your partner if it meant getting people to leave you alone

-Mizu is often still seen as a guy but given the time period I’d honestly think she’d go by any pronouns

-I don’t think she would necessarily care if people use he/him for her, but I think she’d prefer she/her

How they get food

-Ringo would complain about dining hall food, but in a very constructive way

-he’d stand in the hall talking at the lunch people (they wouldn’t be listening) about how to improve the meals

-he’d have to be dragged out before he’d talk their ears off

-mizu literally could care less, food is food, she doesn’t eat much anyways

-akemi door dashes, with the money she has? She can afford it

-Taigen probably leeches off akemi

Work Habits

-Mizu’s a HEAVY procrastinator

-Akemi does her work and often gets very good grades

-she has to make her dad proud

-Ringo studies but he gets lost VERY easily

-Taigen does his work but, much like Mizu, he practically lives at the gym so sometimes some things slide under his radar and affect his grade

-he’s scramble to make it up last minute and somehow still get credit

Professor Kaji?

-Madame Kaji as a professor is a funny thought to me

-she wouldn’t be, if anything she’d just work at a club considering that would’ve probably have been the modern day equivalent to a tea house such as hers

-but if she was she would’ve been super strict

-especially on the students who couldn’t give two shits about her class and make it obvious

-she’s have a very rigorous course

-but if she saw a student failing who she knew was actively trying, she’d lighten up a bit and offer actual help (unlike almost every real life professor ever)

[zizzy-rie]

Another AU I've been thinking about for the past several days now

Here are some close ups of the second pic

More info under the cut

Lucifer Morningstar

His main job is creating toy designs and inventing them. Despite what people might think, he actually comes from a very wealthy and famous family, having owned several companies and lands in different parts of the country. Even though he has his wealth, Lucifer chose to live far from his family and start a life on his own, much to the disappointment of a lot of his relatives. From time to time, he does contact his father and siblings to catch up and know that they're okay.

Lilith Magne

She is a famous fashion model. Not much is known about where she came from as she rarely speaks about her past. Some say that she's bossy and unapproachable (men) but others see her as soft spoken and understanding (women and children). No one in society knows what she does behind her fame, except those powerful syndicates from the underworld. Lilith is a seductress killer who targets men as her victims. She lures them during huge gatherings and parties, wearing a purple gown paired with a black mask over her eyes. She leaves nothing but a black rose on the scene of the crime.

Alastor (??)

He is a radio host from an obscure radio show. Not many know who he is, much to his delight, as he prefers not being traced back to the monthly deaths happening in the city, most of which was his own doing. Alastor is quite organized with the way he chooses his prey, to the way they should be killed. In the underworld, he is well known, both by amateurs and by powerful and huge syndicates, yet no one dared to touch him or report him to authorities (they know what happens if they do, or even try to).

Relationships

Radioapple

No one knows how Lucifer and Alastor met, not even their close friends and family. One day, Lucifer was just suddenly seen arguing with Alastor on the street while holding some plastic bags filled with different things. Complicated is what can be described about their relationship. One minute, they're arguing and trying to hit each other with anything they can hold on to, then the next, you'll hear them cackling at each other's corny jokes. Their relationship got more complicated when the two got drunk off their asses and swore off and made a bet to make the other get laid.

**It would probably go something like this: Alastor and Lucifer, both very drunk and incomprehensible to anyone eavesdropping on them, somehow talking about relationships and partners (how their topic of conversation led to that is up to everyone's own interpretation).

Lucifer: Pppfft- I'm definitely a whole package! I mean just look at me! Charming, rich, handsome, great with the ladies~ Who wouldn't want that? Ehh? Eh?~

Alastor: Well, I don't see anyone hovering around you like an annoying pest now, do I? I guess you're not as charming or great as you think you are, sire.

Lucifer: You're one to talk! You've never even been on a date once!

Alastor: That's because I chose not to, Lucifer. Relationships are messy, and only complicate things. I have no time dealing with such feeble emotions such as love everyone oh so desperately craves. That is clearly not my cup of tea.

Lucifer: Pft, bet I could find you a partner that matches you.

Alastor: oh? Is that a challenge I hear, sire?

Lucifer: oh! How about this? you find me a partner to date, and I find you one as well. If one of us gets to find a match for the other in a matter of 6 months, then the winner gets to receive a reward. Sounds good?

Alastor: hhmmm, tempting, but what would be the reward, sire? If I may ask.

Lucifer: the winner gets to choose his reward, how about that? Doesn't that sound nice? Hhmm?

Alastor: Alright then, challenge accepted Lucifer. Although you're only making this easier for me, as I have never ever fallen for someone and I can assure you that it will never happen. Good luck with finding me a partner.

Lucifer: oh I definitely can, just you wait.

The current situation on their challenge so far: difficult is one word to describe it. No one has found a suitable date or partner for the other yet. [Until Lilith comes into the picture]

Radioqueen

Lilith is a witness to one of Alastor's murders. While disposing of the body, she had accidentally walked into the scene, much to Alastor's disappointment. This is their first meeting with each other, although they have heard rumors about the other from amateur criminals and rookies. Alastor, not wanting to kill Lilith because of his moral code of not killing women and children, bribed her into getting a date with one of the rich and chivalrous men in their city, Lucifer Morningstar, in exchange for her silence. Pleased with the idea (and perhaps another prey to feast on), Lilith agreed. The two exchanged contacts and have been in touch ever since. They are acquainted easily as the two share sentiments on not harming women and children in their murder spree. One detail Alastor forgot to take notice though is, Lilith's victims are men who she had a date with before their deaths.

Lucilith

The two bumped into each other in a cafe. Lucifer was getting a latte for himself, stressed out on the list he is making (names of random people he has heard of who he thinks are the type of people Alastor would go out with). Lilith was getting coffee, just finished from her modeling job in a nearby building. Their meet up was merely a coincidence, which was a delight for Lilith. This way, she could gain more information about who the person Alastor is setting her up with. Lucifer, mesmerized by her voice and stunned by her brilliance, tried to ask for her name. Unfortunately, he blurted out a different question as he was mulling over other problems in his head, such as the list for Alastor's possible dates. Asking someone to date their friend is not the kind of question anyone should be asking to a stranger, and yet it still happened to Lucifer, no less. Being possibly one of the most socially awkward people to exist, he could only sit on the ground and hide his face in shame and horror. Lilith, not expecting this kind of behavior from a rich and supposedly charming man, had found him quite cute and endearing. This is when she decided to leave her original plan of killing him, and instead vowed to marry him someday in the future.

[min4yu]

missed feelings • jeon wonwoo

nonidol!wonwoo x best friend!reader - warnings: fluff, oblivious!reader, simp!oblivious!wonwoo, other idols will be mentioned, a few suggestive touches, light smut is mentioned so minors DNI - synopsis: this guy is head over heels for his best friend. he's always there for her, supporting her through thick and thin. but, there's a twist. she has no idea about his feelings. he tries to drop hints and do sweet things, but she just sees him as a friend. will he ever gather the courage to confess his love? will she realize her true feelings? - wc: 1.5k - masterlist

a/n: this is my first long fic! i hope you guys enjoy! it's not the best but i hope to improve in the future! this is not proofread either! i know this is very rushed but i do hope to get better so please be patient! also thank you for 50 followers! stay tuned and feel free to send some asks! much love >.< !

you and wonwoo had met through your communications class in your college, years ago. you two never spoke to each other until you were partnered up to work on a project.

he was always quiet, focusing on photography. you only spoke when spoken too, focusing on art.

now here you are; mid twenties and at a bar with a few of your friends. you two weren't the party type, only coming to keep each other company. you had only been there for a few hours, watching the people dance around you. wonwoo had walked up to you, seeing you alone watching everyone.

"not enjoying yourself?" he yelled over the loud music. you shook your head no. "it's not really my cup of tea!" he chuckled at your response. he always laughed at your silly jokes. most of the time the jokes wouldn't even funny.

"wanna go back to my place?" you nodded at his words. "let me say goodbye to my friends then we can head out!" you departed from him for a minute before walking over to your friends karina and giselle, giving them a quick hug. "i'm heading out with wonwoo! please get home safely!"

the girls held onto you, giggling drunkenly, karina speaking first. "we will girly! go get your man!" you dismissed her words before waving goodbye.

you walked up to the bar entrance where wonwoo waited for you. "ready to go?" you smiled before walking out of the bar, being hit with a fresh breeze, "it feels great out here."

wonwoo nodded in response, his gazing shifting to your features. he couldn't help but notice the subtle relief in your face since you exited the bar. his eyes gazed from your lips, your face, your hair, your outfit, making his way back up to your eyes. you turned to face wonwoo again, completely missing his eyes on you.

"let's go back to my place, hm?" he half-smiled at your words before you both got into your car and you began driving.

ᡣ𐭩

you and wonwoo arrived at your apartment not long ago, the both of you sitting in the living room chatting about things going on in each others lives.

you took a sip of your drink before speaking, "what's your love life looking like?" he almost choked on his own drink.

"well- ahem- there's this girl that i've liked; for years now. every time i try to make a move of some sort, she never notices, like ever. i would try to be as obvious as possible but i guess she doesn't feel the same?", he spoke. you stared at him, feeling sorry about his situation and frustrated with the girl. it was you.

"how dare she?! you're literally the best person to know! you're so sweet, you're caring, you even laugh at my non funny jokes so what is not to notice? you're a good friend to me so i'm sure you'll be a great boyfriend to her!"

friend. a good friend. he let your words sink in, almost feeling a pang in his heart of frustration, confusion, and so many more things. he just nodded along with what you were saying. his thoughts were getting the best of him as you spoke. it's you! how can he be anymore visible with his feelings? you're all he wants and you can't even take the signs that he wants you!

"what's your love live like?", he asked the same question, putting his drink down to have his full attention on you. "i don't know really. i liked this one guy back when we were in college but we stopped talking. he was kind of a prick if you ask me. there's someone else i like but i'm sure he's going to get a girlfriend soon." it was him.

you and wonwoo talked for a bit before you decided to watch a movie to end your late night, settling on the new movie inside out 2.

you moved closer to wonwoo, cuddling into his side before resting your head on his chest. he played with your hair, trying to focus on the movie that was playing. he could lie and say that he wasn't phase by you laying on his chest, but his breathing and subtle tent in his pants would say otherwise.

as the movie came to an end, you sat up from his chest and stretched, "it was so good! i'm so happy that they decided to make a second movie because i think everyone needed a part two."

he nodded at you before standing up, pulling out his phone to place an uber for his departure. "i'll be out of here soon, my uber is on his way." realistically, he didn't want to leave you. he wanted to stay, laying beside you in your bed, holding you, kissing you, fucking you.

you gave him a hug before he left. "get home safe wonwoo. text me." he hugged you back tighter, speaking into your ear with an almost husky voice, "will do." with that, he walked to the uber with a hard-on and a mind telling him to go back and confess.

a few days later, you called wonwoo crying when your date stood you up, leaving you outside of the fancy restaurant with your pretty white dress and heels.

"hey pretty, what's the matter?" his voice was smooth like chocolate, making you sniffle. he would hate to admit it but the sound of your cries turned him on.

"he stood me up! he left me out here and made me look like a dumbass!" you've gone on countless dates, trying to get wonwoo out of your mind. the only thing that plagued your mind nowadays was wonwoo. his touch. his voice. the thought of what his dick looked like.

"i'll come get you. just send me your address and i'll be on the way. stay somewhere safe," he said as he grabbed his car keys before heading out to his car. you followed his directions; going somewhere safe and sending the address before hanging up on him.

ᡣ𐭩

around ten minutes later, he pulled up outside of the restaurant, honking his horn. you came out with dried tears on your face, your purse and phone in hand before opening the door and taking a seat on the passenger side. you turned to look at wonwoo. "thank you."

he nodded, taking his thumbs to wipe your tears. "don't cry. he was probably a douche bag anyway. let me take you to my place, hm?" you leaned into his touch before nodding. you sat straight in the seat, pulling down the visor to observe yourself. "i look a mess."

he smiled as he pulled off. "you look anything less than a mess y/n." you heart skipped a beat at his words, his doing the same, yet neither of you knew.

he drove you both to his apartment, small talk on the way there. he noticed the way your fingers played with your rings. he noticed the way you fiddled with the necklace on your neck. he noticed everything little detail about you and didn't have the guts to tell you how he really felt. but today would be the day. your shitty hookup left you behind at a restaurant, all dolled up just for him not to show.

today was the day he makes his move.

ᡣ𐭩

you both arrived to his apartment, now sitting on the couch. you faced wonwoo and he faced you.

you took in every details on his face. his eyes, his lips, his nose, him. everything you wanted in a guy, right in front of you. but don't think he didn't do the same; he took in your everything.

he took your hand in his before speaking. "y/n, can i tell you something? and when i tell you this, promise me you won't look at me any differently?" you nodded, gesturing for him to continue. "you were the girl i talked about when we had came back from the bar. i never said anything because i'm positive you don't feel the same way, and that's okay! i just wanted to tell you before you actually got into a relationship but i-"

you cut him off with a simple kiss to his lips, his hands immediately going to your face, cupping your cheeks. you pulled back slightly before speaking, "you were the guy i spoke about."

that's all he needed to hear before you both kissed again. both of your hands were moving quickly; taking over clothes, trying to savor each others touch, everything you've both completely missed.

when you both pulled back for air, you were both left in your undergarments, breathing heavily. everything you both missed in front of your eyes.

you climbed onto of his hips, leaning in to kiss him again. he spoke between each kiss, almost feeling like it was a dream. "need you... right now... waited so damn long."

you moved his underwear down his hips, him doing the same for you before you sunk down onto his cock, both of you whining out in pleasure. you didn't move just yet before you spoke. "please wonwoo.... no more waiting."

ᡣ𐭩

tag list: open! just put it in my asks!

[reyadawn]

Masked Desire - One Shot

*image not mine, credit goes to owner*

Summary: Reader is a live-in friend of Bad Omens who is in love with Noah Sebastian and best friends with Joakim Karlsson. Noah keeps reader in the friend zone while she watches him with other women. *Similar concept of "Love You More" but with varied differences...you'll see*

Side Note: Im not good at angst writing but Im not feeling the best today...struggling with self-image and self-esteem. Needed to let it out.

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x OFC, Jolly x OFC (platonic)

Warnings: Angst, language, eventual friends-to-lovers, eventual smut so dont read this if you're under 18.

Word Count: 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Please, bare with me on this guys...

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Laughter echoed around the dimly lit livingroom of the two story beach house. A large black leather 'L' shaped sectional was filled with the members of Bad Omens as well as thier female counterparts. The glass coffee table was littered with various beer cans, pop cans, random bowls of party mix and a few laptops. The end tables housed speakers and the low sound of country music wafted through the air.

I leaned against the large archway that separated the livingroom from the large chef's kitchen, arms crossed in front of my chest as I took in the scene before me. Jolly, my best friend and partner in crime, had his legs stretched out in front of him with his feet propped up on the end of the coffee table and was absentmindedly strumming his guitar. Folio was next to him with a redhead in his lap wearing jeans so tight they look painted on. Every now and then she'd flip her long hair over shoulder and would hit Jolly across the side of his face.

Jolly threw the occasional dark look to Folio but didnt say anything and I chuckled. Nicholas was engrossed in a book about tattoo designs while being sanwiched between two girls. Both of them kept running thier hands over his legs but he barely even glanced at them. The last girl, a dark brunette with pigtails, was planted in the corner of the leather sectional on Noah's lap and was currently shoving her tongue down his throat, dark hair creating a temporary curtain to hide thier actions from view. Fucking tramps. They were all probably so loose that it was like throwing a hot dog down a hallway.

I turned away, stomach rolling and heart clenching. I would never be anything more to Noah than a friend. A confidant. Video game partner. I looked nothing like the girls he took home. I wasnt thin, at all. I wore no make up. No designer clothes, just tummy control leggings and loose shirts to hide my insecurities. I rarely dressed up unless the ocassion called for it. My long hair was either in a messy bun, ponytail or side braid. My self-esteem was ground zero, I just hid it well.

I busied myself with making a steaming cup of lavendar tea. I walked around the large island which was centered in the middle of the kitchen and frowned. Various bags of chips, popcorn and candy lay scattered along the surface with random glass bottles filled with amber colored liquid. I hated drinking but the way I felt had me considering adding a splash or two to my tea. I reached above me into one of the cabinets by the refridgerator in search of my favorite Halloween cup and noticed it got shoved so far back on the shelf I couldnt reach it.

I bit my lip in thought before hoisting myself onto the counter on my knees. Before I could do much more, a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around my waist, pulling me off the counter. I spun in anger towards my assailant and stopped, staring at Noah in shock and anger.

"What the fuck, Sebastian?", I all but growled. Noah threw his hands up in defense.

"Chill out, Angel. Was just trying to make sure you didn't get hurt. What were you doing, anyway?", he replied, moving to stand closer. I retreated a step back, earning me a frown of confusion across Noah's dark features. His shoulder length brown locks were touseled, full lips kiss swollen and clothes partly disheveled. Internally, my heart broke at the fact I wasnt the reason for the current state he was in. Externally, I rolled my eyes.

"I need my tea cup so I can go upstairs", I replied, pointing to the top shelf. Noah stepped closer to me, reaching over my head to pull the cup from the shelf. I was so tempted to wrap my arms around his 6'3 frame. I wanted and needed so many things from him that I wasnt allowed. He'd never look at me the way I wanted him to.

A light brush to my cheek snapped me from my train of though. I looked up at Noah as his fingertips grazed my cheek, pushing my hair behind my ear.

"Where did you go just now, Angel?", he asked softly, eyes roaming over me. I gently took the cup from him and turned to the stove to get hot water boiling in the copper kettle. "Nowhere", I mumbled.

"Why do you want to go upstairs? You always party with us. What's wrong?", he asked, moving closer once more. He tried moving a few lose strands of hair away from my face but I pulled away. The battle to keep my distance from him yet crave his touch was exhausting.

"Please, Noah...dont do this right now. I really need to be alone for a while", I said, reaching for the kttle as it whistled. I poured the steaming water in my cup, reaching for a teabag from the box sitting by the sugar jar.

"Why?", Noah pushed. I sighed in defeat before turning to him. I slowly raised my eyes to him. Choclate meeting chocolate and he reached his hand out, thumb wiping away a lone tear spilling down my cheek. Giving him a watery smile, I walked past him and through the opposite entrance towards the upstairs.

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Noah stood rooted to the spot, confusion and hurt swirling within him. What was going on with her? Why was she so sad? Did someone hurt her? Anger began to surface and Noah was ready to throw hands, figers gripping the counter tightly until his knuckles turned white.

Jolly entered the kitchen in search of a beer when he took in the sight of Noah before him and cocked his head to the side.

"Descided to come up for air?", he asked with a smirk. Noah turned to him with a scowl.

"I think someone hurt her...she was in here alone, crying and when I tried to comfort her she rejected me. That's really unlike her. I dont fucking get it, man", Noah replied, running a hand down his face.

Jolly rolled his eyes before pulling a beer from the refridgerator, popping the top to take a healthy drink.

"You're a fucking moron, Noah", he deadpanned.

"What the fuck, J? Where do you get the balls?", Noah snapped. Jolly tipped his head back and laughed.

"Dude, that girl has been in love with you for years. Practically throws herself at you and follows you around like a damn puppy. Anything you ask her to do, she does; books our flights, hotels, cleans this massive fucking house top to bottom, does all our laundry and makes sure to work the merch table at our shows when we play in town...for free, I might add. This goes way beyond her being just nice", Jolly explained, arms folded across his chest, beer can forgotten.

Noah stared at Jolly in shock before running his fingers through his hair, gripping the strands in irritation.

"Noah...do you know how hard it is for her to see you with other women? Like, tonight for instance. She watched you tongue fuck that chick on your lap and I thought she was going to break", Jolly added.

"How in God's name do you know all of this?", Noah asked, voice hardening in irritation. Jolly chuckled.

"I'm her best friend, you dunce. We share everything except a bed. It's not like that with her. She's like the sister I never had", Jolly explained. Noah sighed. "Look, if you don't feel the same way about her then you need to tell her so I can prepare myself to pick up the pieces of what will be left of her. If you do feel the same, you need to grow a pair and tell her. Either way, she deserves to know where you stand".

Jolly walked away, leaving Noah to his thoughts.

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I didn't hear the knock at my bedroom door. I barely registered Jolly's soft voice or the feeling of his arms around me as they lifted me from the bathroom floor to cradle me against his chest.

The sobs that escaped had me shaking and trembling. Jolly's grip tightened as he whispered softly in my ear, trying with everything he had to comfort me. Hot tears poured down my cheeks as my hands fisted the material of his shirt.

"Easy, sweetheart. I'm right here...I'm right here", Jolly said, pulling me fully into his lap.

I don't know how long I stayed in Jolly's lap but I suddenly woke up and I was in my bed, alone. My room was dark and I pulled myself into a sitting position before getting out of bed to meander downstairs. Raised voices had me pausing in the hallway to eavesdrop.

"Goddamnit, Jolly, why didn't you come and get me when you found her like that?!", Noah screamed.

"Dude, calm down before you pop a vein", Nick said. I slowly peered around the corner, looking down from the banister. Noah was in a standoff with Jolly in the livingroom while Nick, Nicholas and Matt were onlookers.

"If you gave half a fuck as much as I do, you would have gone after her but instead you bed that stupid whore from last night to hide the truth of it all!", Jolly fired back. You could have heard a pin drop as all eyes turned to Noah.

"Jolly, you're like a brother to me but right now I'm two seconds away from decking your ass. She's fucking everything to me, to this band. None of us would survive without her. We'd all fucking starve to death", Noah explained. My breath caught in my throat as fresh tears filled my vision.

"Go tell her you love her, you fucktard, but you better do some hefty begging though. She's liable to lay you out flat before she lets you fuck her", Matt said with a grin, popping a few M&M's in his mouth. Noah, Jolly, Nick and Nicholas all turned to him before laughter erupted. I had to admit, I loved the sound.

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I stood looking out my window, fresh from a shower, towel still wrapped around my frame. Dark blue sky, not a cloud in sight, sun shinning. Days like this normally made me happy but a dark cloud of confliction loomed over me from what I had witnessed downstairs.

I was so lost in my train of thought that I didn't hear anyone come into the bedroom. I sighed loudly as I heard the door close.

"Not now, Jolly. I'll come down soon", I said, still gazing out the window.

"Jolly has seen you in a towel but I don't get to?", Noah's deep voice rang out. I spun, clutching the towel to my breasts.

"What the holy fuck, Sebastian?! Do you know what knocking is?", I all but screamed.

"I did knock but you didn't answer. I got worried and let myself in so I could check on you", Noah replied, walking over to the bed to sit down. I rolled my eyes and proceeded to walk by him and retreat into the bathroom but his hand shot out and latch onto my wrist, stopping me.

Noah rose to full height, engulfing me in his size. He hooked a finger inside the knot at my chest, yanking me so hard against his chest the towel came loose and fell to the floor. I craned my head back to stare up at him in shock as he brought his head down to brush my lips with his. I parted my lips as he fully slanted his across mine, his arms encircling my waist to hold me close.

The kiss was so soft and gentle, that hot tears prickled beneath my closed eyes. I whimpered and grabbed his forearms, my legs trembling. Noah rained gentle kisses down my neck to my collarbone as his long fingers gently carressed between my thighs before giving them a gentle tap. I parted them just enough and his middle finger slid between my folds to soflty swipe across my clit.

"So soft...so wet", Noah murmered against my skin. I whimpered again, a small plea for him to give me more. "Use your words, Princess. Tell me what you want".

"Please...I need more...I need you", I whispered, gripping his forearm even tighter.

"Good girl. Come here", Noah said, pulling his fingers from me and pulled me after him to the bed. I suddenly became aware of my nakedness and tried to cover myself up with my arms. Noah looked down at me and chuckled.

"My fingers have been in your pussy and you're worried about how you look? Lay down for me, beautiful and spread those pretty thighs", Noah smiled reassuringly. I bit my lip nervously but did as he asked. I hated the way my body was even more laying down than when I was standing.

I felt the bed dip as Noah layed down, face inches from my dripping pussy and I had never felt more vulnerable, exposed or turned on in my life. Without bothering to ask for permission, Noah's tongue swiped through my folds to run light circles around my clit as he slowly pushed two long fingers inside me up to his knucles. I could almost feel him at my cervix because his fingers were so fucking long. I gasped as he slowly thrust his fingers in and out of me, circling my clit a few times before plunging his fingers back inside me.

I gripped Noah's hair as he suddenly wrapped his lips around my clit while curling his fingers into a 'come hither' motion to rub that spongey spot inside me and my hips shot upwards. Noah chuckled and placed his free hand over my lower stomach to hold me in place, picking up the pace of his fingers.

"Please, please...I'm gonna' come...please, more, faster", I begged, throwing my head back against the pillow.

"Please what, Angel?", Noah asked, raising his head to look up at me. His dark eyes glittered with his own arousal.

"Please, make me come", I all but begged.

"Please ...?", Noah trailed off.

"Noah! Please, Noah!", I cried, thighs shaking. He smiled and lowered his head again to take my clit back in his mouth and suck hard while fucking his curled fingers inside me at an almost painful pace. I screamed out as my release coated his fingers and his hand. Before I even had time to recover, he positioned himself between my thighs and thrust his cock inside me until he was fully seated, triggering another orgasm as I raked my nails down his shoulders and arms.

I couldnt even think straight enough to try and figure out how he got his shorts and boxers off. Noah's thrusts were slow, deep, powerful even as his cock slowly dragged from my body only to spear back inside me until I felt the head hit my cervix. Noah lowered himself to capture my cries with his lips as his hips snapped faster. My legs lifted to wrap my thighs around his waist even tighter, the act causing him to sink impossibly deeper.

Pulling myself from his lips, I tried to catch my breath. Noah brought a hand to my breast, swiping his thumb over my nipple.

"Noah, please...I can't...you'll destroy me...my heart--", I said harshly but Noah's lips cut me off before he pulled away to look down at me.

"Your heart is mine. Your body is mine. You. Are. Mine", he empasized, his hips jackhammering against my thighs, cock pistoning against my cervix. I was losing the battle against my body. I couldn't fight it. "Come for me, Angel...come all over my dick".

Noah's words were my undoing. The coil inside me snapped, my body feeling like it could snap as my muscles grew taught and I screamed. My release triggered his own as he closed his eyes, mouth open, releasing every boiling rope of cum inside me. He collapsed on top of me, chest heaving. I ran my fingers through his hair until he rolled to his back, taking me with him so I layed across his chest, my leg tangled between his.

"I love you, Angel...I'm so sorry for being so stupid for this long", Noah whispered, placing a kiss to the top of my head.

"It's ok, Noah...better late than never", I replied, kissing his chest. "I love you, too".

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Probably should have made this two parts but I couldnt stop writing 🤷‍♀️

Thanks for reading 💫💟

@livingdeceasedgirl @exitwoundsx @artificialbreezy @lma1986 @thefallennightmare @concreteangel92 @concreteemo @dsireland86 @darling-millicent-aubrey @flowery-mess @amourtoken @gretaswhore28

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Not my cup of tea

Word count: 2400+

Warnings: mentions of sex

You voted for this one to be posted, so here you are. I hope you'll enjoy it

I'm sorry for any mistakes as English isn't my first language 🫣

"Y/N, are you listening?" Mor gently touched your hand. The faint smell of cedar and mist reached your nose. He was about to walk in to the living room where you were talking with your best friend.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Actually..I'm afraid I have to go," you hurriedly excused yourself and walked through the closest wall.

It was exactly a week since you slept with Azriel and ever since then you were avoiding him at any cost. You truly loved him and were used to spend a lot of time around him, so this new situation was a real torment.

It all started when after years of flirting with each other Azriel finally asked you out. You were so happy and thrilled that he willed to deepen your relationship. You had eyes for shadowsinger since you two met, so it was a dream-comes-true situation. It took only few dates and you ended up in his bed.

It was perfect until that night, ideal. There was absolutely nothing to indicate that it could turn out this way. Not even the slightest hint. However the night became the turning point for you. Well, sex itself was amazing. He was amazing and you enjoyed that part, but problem was in everything else. Azriel seemed to have a thing for spanking, degradation, bondage and other similar practices that weren't to your taste at all.

You were ashamed and your heart screamed in pain because he was fantastic male who deserved to be loved and especially, Azriel deserved to have partner who would share the same interests. Unfortunately it couldn't be you. As much as it hurt, it was the fact you had to learn to live with. Problem was that you didn't know how to tell him and you were afraid you could hurt his feelings, so you were rather running away and hiding. You needed time to think it over and find the right words.

You were invited to a dinner in the House of Wind and there's no doubt Azriel would be there, too. You wished you could refuse the invitation, but the dinner was in honor of very important guests, so you had to go. All day long you were thinking how to attend and avoid him at the same time, but you didn't come up with anything useful.

And so with a heavy heart you prepared and went to the dinning room. As soon as you entered you scanned the gathered group and with relieve you found out Azriel wasn't there yet. It gave you some time to do the necessary greetings and socialization. It was time to sit to the table and he still wasn't there. You allowed yourself to relax a bit and took a deep breath. Maybe he had to go to some mission or something urgently needed his attention.

You were about to pick up the spoon and start to eat when you smelled the familiar intoxicating scent. You turned toward the end of the table and saw a glimmer of blue siphon. You panicked for a moment, drops of sweat forming on your forehead. There wasn't time to run away without being noticed by the whole party and shadowsinger. For once you were glad you had unique powers and merged with the chair.

Azriel walked into the dining room and immediately glanced over the people gathered around the table. He was sure you would be here, so he was late on purpose, waiting till everyone was seated. Even in the room full of people he could smell your scent, fresh and strong. You were in there.

He spent the week looking for you, but without success. Anytime he thought he caught you, you simply vanished most likely using the powers that he adored so much. It would make you a great spy, but unfortunately you didn't feel up to the job.

Your behaviour was really strange and unusual and Azriel was afraid it had something to do with the night you'd spent together. He thought you liked it and enjoyed it even more than him, but it seemed he was wrong.

Whatever the problem was, Azriel just wanted to hear it from your mouth. He needed to know what you didn't like, so he wouldn't repeat the same mistake next time. He knew how you felt about him and he felt the same way about you, that's why he dared to ask you out. You were perfect for him and he was decided to do anything to convince you to stay with him even though there were moments when he felt undeserving of somebody as good as you.

Shadowsinger spotted free seat next to Nesta, your second best friend. If you attended which you definitely did, she would know where to look for you. He headed towards her and sat down. "Have you seen Y/N tonight?" he asked bluntly.

Nesta looked at him in surprise. "She was sitting right here a while ago. I didn't notice she left."

"I see," Shadowsinger murmured. It was really strange. Your scent was as strong here as if you were sitting on his lap. His eyes widened as he finally realized what was happening. He had to laugh at himself that he hadn't thought of it sooner. Smirking Azriel picked up spoon and started to eat.

Hidden in the chair that Azriel was seated on, you were waiting for the best moment to slip through the floor to the room under the dining room. You were so nervous, you couldn't even remember what was down there. You waited almost until the desserts. Azriel was engaged in heated conversation with Cassian, his full attention trained on him. This was your chance.

You slowly materialized under the chair. You had to be very careful not to touch his long legs or sensitive wings. Mentally you prepared for hard impact from a height and slowly started to merge through the floor. When you were half through, your lower body hanging in the air in the other room, you inhaled deeply, closed eyes and holding breath you let go. Instead of a fall that would end in a great pain you landed on some tall piece of furniture.

Shakily exhaling you looked around. You were in a small family library. You looked down from the bookcase hoping to find a ladder that should be somewhere nearby. You found it resting against row of opposite bookcases. You sighed.

You were thinking about the best way how to get down, when a deep voice startled you. "What are you doing up there?"

Azriel was leaning against the bookcase on the end of aisle, arms crossed on chest, playful smirk on his face, shadows swirling behind his back. Your throat tightened. You totally forgot about his shadows. They most likely saw your pathetic escape attempt and reported it to him.

"I..I was just.."you couldn't come up with any good excuse.

He pushed off of the bookcase, lazily walking closer. "Let me help you," he stopped under you, holding out his scarred hands.

Heat consumed your face, but nodding you accepted. Azriel put you down as easily as if you were just a feather. But instead of letting you go, he pressed you to his broad chest. Smell of cedar filled your lungs and dulled all your senses. You could feel his hot breath in the crook of your neck, his eyes closed. One scarred hand travelled up your back and slipped into your hair. It felt so good, so right that a small moan escaped you. Only then you realized how much you'd missed him, how much you needed him. You wanted to stay like this for the rest of your life.

"What happened?" his voice was so gentle, no more than a whisper. With a jerk you sobered up immediately. It was just simple question, but it stabbed straight to the heart like a dagger. You swallowed hard.

Azriel pulled back a bit so he could look you in the eyes. "Was it too soon? Or did I hurt you? Didn't you like it?" These and other questions haunted him all the week. Now when he had finally found you, they poured out of him like water from a broken dam.

A silver lined your eyes and your lips wobbled. You couldn't look at him any longer. You shook your head, trying to get out of his grip, but he wouldn't let you. His fingers gripped you even harder, pulling you to his strong body.

"Please, don't. Tell me what I did wrong. Please," he begged you desperately. He was so vulnerable at this moment and you knew how hard it's for him to let someone in, to show his weaknesses, to beg for things he wanted. It wasn't easy at all for him to show such a vulnerability. It was against his nature. Yet for you he didn't hesitate.

"You did nothing wrong," you sobbed.

"I had to do something. You are avoiding me ever since then. Please, tell me what it is. Didn't you like the sex?" You shook your head. "So I hurt you."

"No, you never." Brows furrowed, he studied your face, looking for an answer, a hint, anything that would help him to understand.

"I'm trying to understand it, but I can't. I don't want to loose you. Please, tell me what you don't like and I will change."

His words were breaking your heart. It hurt so much to listen how he saw himself, how he considered himself to be bad person, undeserving, hurting others. First tears rolled down your face. "Please, stop it. There's nothing wrong with you. You don't have to change something you enjoy for anybody. It's me, I'm the problem."

He shook head. "Please.."

"You deserve to be with somebody who likes same things. But unfortunately it isn't me. Even though I really wish I could be the one."

"I'm not sure what you mean, but I assure you I can change. Just tell me." Closing eyes he rested his forehead on yours. You knew him enough to notice that he was trying hard to stay calm, not to burst out. You also knew he wasn't angry, not for real. Azriel was just very desperate and determined. "Y/N...Whatever it is, spit it out. Please," he groaned through clenched teeth, gently shaking your shoulders.

There was no other way but to tell him. Azriel wouldn't let you be, if you refused. You couldn't even make up some blunt, because he was the spymaster and he would know you lied. You felt so embarrassed, you had to shut your eyes close. Shakily you inhaled. "Okay..." even your voice was weak and trembling. "I.. well.. you remember as you bounded my hands behind my back, called me your whore.. and the other names.. also those punishments when I didn't answer properly.." You couldn't continue. But apparently it wasn't necessary.

Azriel's hands dropped and he took few steps back. He leaned against the bookcase running fingers through his dark hair. He was pale. "So basically all except the sex part," he mumbled. You nodded.

Groaning he sat down and covered his face with scarred hands. Suddenly he started to laugh so much he cried. You'd never seen him laugh so hard. You were confused and worried. "Azriel.. are you okay?" You wanted to touch him, but you weren't sure if it's good idea right now.

Finally he caught his breath and looked up at you. "Thank Cauldron," he said still smiling wide. "I hated that, too."

Wide-eyed you dropped to your knees. "What do you mean?" you whispered.

"As I said, I didn't like it, too," he laughed again.

"So why did you do that?"

"I thought you like it. That's why."

Now you had to laugh. "But why? Where did you get such an idea?"

"Those spicy novels you read. I noticed there is one you reread again and again, so I thought you must really like what's written there and tried to imitate some of those sex scenes."

Both of you burst into laughter.

"You really read it? Just because you thought I like it?" You laughed so much your stomach hurt.

"I did. Several times to make sure I remember what Im supposed to do," he admitted wiping his tears. You leaned in and kissed his cheek.

"It's so sweet of you." He pulled you into his arms and kissed you, enjoying the moment.

"I'd do anything for you." Pulling you even closer he looked deep into your eyes. You wrapped arms around his shoulders playing with the soft hair on the nape of his neck.

"Thank you," you whispered resting your head on his shoulder. Surrounded by his calming scent and warmth you sat there in silence for a while.

"Can I tell you a secret?" you whispered to his hot skin.

"Sure," smiling he whispered back.

"I don't like those novels. They are quite too spicy for me and I'm not fond of what males do to females, the way they interact with them. But I like Nesta and the girls. Every time we have sleepover party or just hang out, they talk about those books a lot. I want to be able to join the conversation and that's the only reason I read them."

"Dove, I'm sure the girls wouldn't like you any less even if you didn't read those horrible novels," Azriel chuckled on the last two words. "Nesta is your best friend. No need to push yourself so hard over something you don't enjoy."

"I know," you sighed. "By the way," you bit down on your lower lip, glad he couldn't see your face now, "if you don't like to do it like in those books, then how do you like it?"

Even from this angle you could see his cheeks turned pink. "Well, about that..," Azriel nervously cleared his throat. "I'd love to show you myself, but I understand that after the previous fiasco you might be against it."

One of his shadows picked a book from shelf and put it into his stretched hand. "Maybe this could convince you to give me one more chance." He handed you the book. You gasped when you read the title. It was one of your most favourite novels.

"If this is what you like," you smiled and kissed the tip of his nose," then we could go to your room and try it out. What do you think?"

"I'm in," Azriel said and standing up with you in his arms he headed to his room.

[coochellati]

How many kids do you think Bruno would ideally want to have? And what kind of father do you think he’d be?

Hi!!!! Oooh, this is a super fun question!!!

Before I get into it, I just wanted to say that Maggie (@cornerfortherats) and I had a great discussion over this question, and since some of these thoughts are hers, I wanted to tag her for credit !!

I believe Bruno would want one or two kids, probably leaning toward two. He’d want to ensure he could give equal time and attention to each child without stretching himself too thin. While I think he could handle more than two—okay, leading a team of mafiosos isn’t the same as raising kids, but the leadership skills he’s cultivated would certainly be useful in parenting—that doesn’t mean he *wants* more. And of course, he wouldn’t treat his kids the way he treats his teammates; he would give them much more love and care.

As a father, Bruno Bucciarati would be deeply involved in his children's lives. He wants to give them the kind of life he had before his parents' divorce—one filled with love and warmth.

Bruno would be the type of dad to hug his kids often because he didn’t receive much affection growing up. It can be awkward adjusting to normal levels of affection when you’re not used to it, and he wouldn’t want his kids to experience that. He wants them to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he loves them.

Every night, Bruno reads to his kids the way his mother read to him. Those memories are something Bruno is no doubt fond of, and he wants his children to feel that same warmth.

Bruno spends as much time with his children as he can because he feels the best part of his life is spent with his family. He wants to be there for every moment—his children’s first words, first steps, etc. I can totally see Bruno letting his kid dress him up (maybe as a fairy princess for a tea party or something). However, he would not allow anyone to take a photo of him while in costume.

You can bet his children are getting the best education possible. As someone who never had the chance to attend a good school, he wants to make sure his children are well set up in life, and thanks to Passione, he can afford to send them anywhere.

Bruno is the type of dad who would cry when his kids are born. However, it wouldn’t be at the hospital as you might imagine, but alone with his partner and baby. It’s a mix of the usual dad joy and the relief of finally getting to rebuild the family he lost. He feels an unspoken awe and eternal gratitude towards his partner for making their baby, like a "how did you create someone so amazing?" kind of feeling. (This last part only applies if his partner is AFAB.)

He would probably try to quit being a mafioso to focus on family when his first kid is on the way. This would be difficult, especially if he’s already deeply involved, but he’d be concerned about the danger his connections could pose to his new child.

Additionally, he wants to be a role model for his children, and the best way to keep them out of a shady life is to cut ties with Passione entirely. Bruno would never allow his children to join Passione or even come close to it. He would also be very secretive about his past life as a mafioso, shielding his kids from that part of his history. (He may eventually tell them about his experience in the organization when they’re much older.) He’s determined to make sure they grow up loved and safe, ensuring they steer clear of a dangerous path.

Due to his protective nature, he might come across as a stricter parent. In his mind, enforcing order ensures safety, something he didn’t have the luxury of growing up with. Bruno shows this strict side quite often in Vento Aureo, such as when he and his team arrived at San Giorgio Maggiore. Before stepping off the boat, while his team was happily imagining what kind of food they would eat later, Bruno snapped, impatiently reminding them that they were still on a mission. He would be significantly less stern with his children than he is with his team, but still firm.

Overall, Bruno would be an amazing parent. Sure, he may be strict at times, but he doesn’t want total control over his kids—as someone who has a deep understanding of life’s perils, he wants nothing more for them to grow up safe, happy, and most of all, loved.

thanks for the ask!! <3 ily!!

[earthry]

✨ HC Request ✨ How would the Papas behave DURING their partners' pregnancies? 🥰

OOO I gotchu <3 thank you for the request!!

Here you go! I don’t think there are any warnings but there’s some spicy mention in Terzo’s

Primo

Loving and gentle with you, he’s always mindful of you and the baby. If you are not already married/committed/official that is one of the first things he will do. Also gets all of his affairs in order so that if he passes both you and his unborn child will be properly taken care of for the rest of your lives.

Has already started setting up the nursery, and will slowly but steadily work on it until the baby arrives. He paints the walls himself, soft colors decorated in wildflowers that take a very long time because he hand paints each petal, each stem. Sometimes you will stop by with a cup of tea for him and watch him work.

Holds you each night with your back against his chest and his hands caressing your swollen belly, kissing your temple and whispering about how excited he is for the baby to come, for the two of you to start a family.

Will adjust his own lifestyle to yours during your pregnancy; will give up alcohol and coffee for you.

Cooks for you everyday, homemade meals to keep your body and the baby strong and healthy.

Lazy days in the garden together talking about baby names and nursery plans.

Rubs your feet and back when they ache, always comforting you when you’re in pain. Patient no matter what even if you’re moody.

Secondo

He’s kind of out of his depth but you catch him with a stack of new parenthood and pregnancy books in his office. You also catch him talking with some of the much older sisters-in-sin that have kids for advice.

He’s the same at first; I imagine him as someone who’s into rough sex and dirty talking you a lot. But as he learns more from books and your doctor, he becomes more gentle and careful with you. Your lovemaking becomes this soft bonding experience, worshiping your body.

When the two of you started dating he cut down a lot of his partying and drinking. Now that you’re pregnant with his child, he stops almost completely. He rarely goes out now; stays home especially in the evenings so he can care for you and make sure you’re safe and loved.

Argues with you on baby names, likes complicated and hard to pronounce Italian names. You argue that Emeritus is already a mouthful and he gets slightly offended. Sulks about it.

Extra protective when you’re out, stays close and if anyone isn’t careful and accidently bumps or pushes you, they’re due for a very angry scolding in Italian. Sometimes you have to pull him away and give him lots of kisses to calm him down.

Terzo

Literally cannot keep his hands off your tummy. This man is obsessed. Both because he’s excited for the baby, but because he finds it unbearably hot that it’s his baby that’s inside you. He put that there. That’s his.

The first few months he’s practically intolerable, can’t get enough of you. It’s like he’s gotten even hornier and before you were pregnant he already had a practically insatiable sex drive. You complain to him and he has the decency to look sorry but that doesn’t stop him from pulling you into the closet the next time he sees you for a quickie.

Once you’re further along and your bump starts showing he still can’t keep his hands off you but he does calm down a little at your doctor’s orders. Even though your baby bump drives him crazy.

He loves cuddling with you in the evening and lazy mornings, resting his hands on your stomach, rubbing your belly and discussing things for when the baby comes. He calls your baby bump all sorts of things. Little peanut, gumdrop, cupcake, little sprout, button, etc.

The kind of dad that will talk to your belly constantly like his kid can hear him. Stage whispers like you can’t hear him too. “Did you hear that? Your mommy said no!” “Terzo I swear to satan— I am not changing my mind on this. We are NOT putting a ritual altar in the nursery.”

Copia

Definitely an anxious dad; constantly hovering even before your baby bump begins to show.

Won’t let you lift a single thing by yourself, which can be frustrating but he looks so worried that you usually let him get things for you anyways.

Goes with you to every single doctor appointment and holds your hand for comfort. The hand holding is more for his benefit though.

Worries if he’ll be a good dad, does his best to be a good role model. Constantly talks about “when the baby gets here—“.

Has to be stopped from banning everything you’re not allowed to consume during pregnancy like caffeine in the Abby.

Has his ghouls look after you when he can’t be with you— and every time he comes back there’s a cuddle pile around you.

The ghouls are like cats that get protective of their human when they get pregnant, they love being close to you and purring and cuddling with you.

[fedyaxz]

“Shall you dance with me, my insufferable lady?”

Ft. Dazai, pm! fem! Reader

Request: Dazai with 2. I can just hear him saying that phraseeeee

Prompt: a dance in the ballroom with your enemy

A/n: Wanna buy me a Pilot Acro 1000 pen??? It's my first time writing smut so sorry for any wrongs that I wrote.

Tw! kinda enemies to lovers kinda trope, adult themes, teasing, clothed play, fingering, edging

"What?!" You shouted, slamming the mission files you once held on the desk while seething in anger.

"You heard me y/n-chan, the detective agency and the port mafia decided to have an alliance because of our mutual enemy organization. That leads to your mission-" Mori, your boss, said it nonchalantly, unfazed by your outburst as he took a sip of his tea.

"And in that mission I have to go to the enemy's fancy masquerade with an agency member? Yet for some reasons you decided to have Dazai Osamu of all people, as my partner?" You tried to calm down but you almost felt like pulling your hair out.

"Well.. yes, I understand that it's upsetting to you especially since you had... a past, with Dazai, but this is for the sake of the mafia. All you have to do is associate yourself with them if needed, get the files then leave, quite simple." He said in an almost upbeat tone.

Biting your lower lip and tapping your feet on the floor, you thought for a few moments, yet all you could do is agree.

That's how you ended up leaning on the balcony railing, waiting for the event to officially start and for your target to show up. You were wearing quite the eye-catching dress, a cream colored off-shoulder slit dress, with sparkling pearls and beads covering the skirt of it.

You observed the sparkling champagne on your glass as you swirled it, then, letting out a long and exasperated sigh, you wondered where the hell is your supposed partner at. After hearing the start of the music, you wore your silver coated mask and gulped down the champagne. You went past the balcony entrance and headed to the ballroom, where the lively celebration took place. After putting back your glass at the platter of a waiter, you scanned the crowded room to find your target. When you found him, you tried to head to where he was, and then disguised yourself by trying to take another glass of champagne, but a hand suddenly snatched yours away and pulled you close by the waist. You felt your body collide with a man's chest, along with the tight grip on your waist to keep you close. Just as you were about to look at the face of the guy who pulled you, you could only stiffen and frown at the sound of the familiar voice.

"My, my, you already seem to be enjoying the masquerade party, bella~ you didn't even wait for your partner afterall" Dazai cooed, he was wearing a fancy tuxedo along with a black mask.

The nickname almost made you want to puke, but you tried to keep that to yourself, however the frown on your face makes it obvious.

"Oh I'm so sorry that you're late, I couldn't bear to wait a year just for you to arrive" with your voice laced with sarcasm, he chuckled, and pulled you closer again, earning a gasp from you, as personal space was technically nonexistent between the two of you. He tilted his head down to your side so that he could whisper in your ear, his hot breath hit your ear and it sent shivers down your spine.

"In all honesty, you look beautiful darling" he whispered in a seductive and flirtatious tone that made you huff in frustration.

"Let's just get this mission over with so I don't have to deal with you and your stupid antics.." you whispered back, noticing the slight change of music, cluing the start of the first dance.

"Still impatient hmm? Fair enough, but before that-" He teased, but before you could reply, he pulled away and slightly courtsied before offering you to take his gloved hand.

"Shall you dance with me, my insufferable lady?" He gave you a mischievous grin, one that makes you want to wipe it off his face.

"I'll take up that offer, my obnoxious sir" You gave him an annoyed grin in return, placing your hand at top his gloved one.

Just as your hand landed on his, he quickly pulled you towards him and held you by your waist, your left hand rested on his right shoulder, and your right hand was interlocked with his left, raised on his shoulder position. You and him swayed by the rhythm, exchanging a few words.

"You look uglier since I last saw you" A small smirk was evident on my lips as we continued to follow each other's movements in complete sync.

"Well you look... disappointing, I thought you would gain at least a few inches, turns out I was wrong" He shrugged, loosened his tight hold on your waist, and repositioned his hand that was interlocking with yours, noticing it was time for the exchange partners.

You huffed in annoyance before stepping on his foot and then spun once after being caught by someone's partner who continued your part of the dance. You and the man exchanged a few words and introduced himself as Akaky. As the music was on the last ridge, you spun back to Dazai and he catched you on his chest, he was finally serious now.

"I'll distract the target, you get the files, we could meet at the room near the end of the left hallway upstairs" he said and you could only manage a nod as the music ended and the two of you courtsied before parting.

You headed upstairs, and you found a large wooden door at the end of the right hallway. Upon entering it with caution, you saw not a single guard but a messy room. Miscellaneous papers everywhere, a broken window, discarded books, shards of glass everywhere, a dead body on the chair near a discarded gun, blood, and a slightly tilted painting. You narrowed your eyes while you stepped inside the room, it was too suspicious as if the room was made to look this way. Looking around once more, you noticed a small detail on the file to your right, it seemed like a simple letter written in English but when read, all the capital letters in each sentence formed a word; when in a paragraph, it formed a clear yet simple sentence, it was probably planted by those who turned their backs on the organization. You then take the letter in your hand and fold it small enough so that you can hide it inside your bra. Looking around again, you couldn't help but notice the small red light from the pen that was neatly sitting on the pencil holder on the bookshelf in the corner of the room. You headed there, and only after grabbing the pen did you notice that it was a small camera. You dropped it, then stepped on it, and having to make sure it was destroyed; you crushed it. Then, you walked outside the room and then to the end of the left hallway.

As you arrived, you hurriedly looked back and forth at the two doors, one is where you and Dazai are supposed to meet. Before you could decide which one to enter, the right door bursts open and you were pulled into the room. The door slams shut along with you, and you could see Dazai's figure towering over you, his left hand pinning your hands above your head while his right one pinned your left thigh with a mischievous grin adorning his face. He leaned down, his hot breath continuosly hits your ear as he breathes. He then whispered, his voice was hoarse and raspy.

"Y/n..." he slips his hand between your dress, his eyes were full of lust... Fuck- you felt yourself being aroused, you can't even remember why you hated him that much at such moments like this.

"Hah... I knew you were a manwhore but I never expected you to be someone who'd beg his enemy for sex" you mocked, your expression as smug as ever.

His hand went upward, and his fingers were brushing up your inner thighs. He leaned on to you more, his head was completely resting on your shoulders down, and you could feel his lips on your neck forming a smirk. Then, you gasped when you felt his fingers brushing on your soaked panties.

"Yet you're so wet, maybe even eager for me to fuck you" he teased your clit through the wet fabric and licked your neck before he sucked near your collarbone earning both a gasp and a quiet whimper from you afterwards. He raised his eyebrows at this before chuckling after getting the reaction that he wanted, he continued to tease you through the soaked fabric, knowing that your core is aching and is in need of friction. You were too turned on right now, if a few minutes go by, you were so sure that you would be a whining and begging mess, begging to be fucked, so you decided to swallow your pride.

"f- fuck.. Dazai please" you huffed out, wanting to move your body down against his fingers but he was preventing you in doing so.

"please what, hmm?" he hummed and licked your earlobe.

"Please-" before you could continue, he bit your ear harshly and tossed your panties to the side. He lowered himself more onto you and said something almost inaudible.

"Use your words properly darling" he sucked on the flesh near your collarbone, leaving marks, while his fingers teased on your clit, twisting and making ghostly touches to the sensitive bud. He began to gather your slick on his middle finger and aligned it on your entrance.

"fuck-! Please- agh-!" you were once again interrupted as you felt his finger entering your cunt, leaving you whining, he didn't move for a while.

"continue~" he cooed in the most teasing tone.

"p-please... Fuck me.. agh~!" You moaned outloud when you felt his tongue going from your collarbone up to your jawline then to your earlobe, lapping circles near the back of your ear. As he did this, he inserted two of his digits and went at a rigorous and unholy pace leaving you moaning as his fingers hit the right spots.

"you're the one who begged me, so you'll be getting your reward now but your punishment comes later sweetheart~" he lets go of your hands pinned above your head and you landed them on his shoulders. His other hand went to your clit and rubbed on it quickly.

You were moaning and whining right now feeling your release come closer. He was fingering you with his fingers at an overwhelmingly fast pace, your cunt is clenching on it and your legs were trembling, precum slowly dripping down to the floor. His hand was soaked and you were clawing at his shoulders, throwing your head back and unholy sounds leaving your lips along with his groans of satisfaction as he sucked along your neck, collarbone, and shoulders. You rolled your eyes to the back of your head in pleasure before closing them, but then he completely stopped, pulling his fingers out of you, and stopped nibbling on your neck.

"What... Why'd you stop?" you almost whined, you fluttered your eyes open and panted at the feeling of your release washing away, then you felt him smirk through the skin of your neck.

"We still have a mission to finish!" he smiled mischievously yet cheerfully, parting from your neck to stand straight.

You furrowed your eyes in annoyance, and began to realise what he meant.

He brought the fingers that fingered you to his lips, then to his tongue, tasting your arousal and humming in satisfaction. Before you could protest, he took the same hand away from his lips then near your cleavage, he then leaned to whisper.

"I wonder what Mori-san will feel when he finds out that his loyal executive is distracted from a mission because she's being fucked by her partner from what she calls ‘a stupid treaty’" he said in a mocking tone, even taunting as he took the letter from your bra, placing it in-between his index finger and his middle finger. He parted away from you and was leaning enough to see you on eye-level, putting the neatly folded letter on the inside pocket of his tuxedo with the same smirk he always has.

Now you remembered why you hated him so much.

[shitsndgiggs]

Hey dear... I hope that you're feeling better.... when you get better will you consider writing something about kenan where he meets reader's parents for the first time and her being an only child her parents have..thank you

PROTECTIVE PARENTS - KENAN YILDIZ

Kenan meets your protective parents

Kenan Yildiz only child! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Meeting the parents was a big step, and as we drove to my childhood home, I could sense Kenan's nervousness.

I glanced over at him, his usual confident demeanor replaced with a rare look of apprehension.

“Hey, don’t worry,” I said, trying to soothe him with a smile. “They’re going to love you. Just be yourself.”

Kenan nodded, taking a deep breath. “I just want them to see how much I care about you.”

“They will,” I assured him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s go.”

The drive felt longer than usual, my anticipation building with each passing mile. When we finally arrived, my mom opened the door with a warm smile, though I could see the curiosity and caution in her eyes.

My dad stood behind her, his expression neutral but assessing.

“Mom, Dad, this is Kenan,” I introduced, my voice filled with pride.

Kenan stepped forward, extending his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N.”

My dad shook his hand firmly, his protective nature clear in his scrutinizing gaze. “Nice to meet you, Kenan. Come on in.”

Inside, the atmosphere was a mix of warmth and tension. My mom offered tea and cookies, making small talk while my dad watched Kenan closely.

Kenan answered their questions politely, sharing stories about his upbringing, career, and how much he adored me.

“So, Kenan,” my dad began, his tone serious, “how did you two meet?”

Kenan glanced at me, smiling. “We met through mutual friends at a party. I was immediately drawn to Y/N’s kindness and intelligence. She’s truly special.”

My mom smiled softly at that, but my dad’s expression remained thoughtful. “What are your intentions with our daughter?”

I squeezed Kenan’s hand under the table, giving him silent encouragement. “My intentions are to support and love Y/N. I’m committed to her and our future together. I understand she’s your only child, and I want you to know that I will always treat her with the utmost respect and care.”

There was a pause, and then my dad’s stern expression softened just a bit. “That’s all we want for her,” he said quietly. “Her happiness and well-being mean everything to us.”

Kenan nodded earnestly. “I promise to do my best to ensure that.”

Dinner progressed more smoothly after that. My parents started to warm up to Kenan, appreciating his sincerity and the way he treated me.

My mom shared embarrassing childhood stories about me, and my dad even cracked a few jokes, easing the tension.

Later, as we all sat in the living room, my mom turned to Kenan with a gentle smile. “You know, Y/N is our world. We’ve always been protective of her, maybe a bit too much sometimes. But seeing how happy she is with you... it means a lot.”

Kenan smiled, looking at me with love in his eyes. “She’s my world too.”

When it was time to leave, my parents walked us to the door. My dad shook Kenan’s hand again, this time with genuine warmth. “Take care of her, Kenan.”

“I will, sir,” Kenan replied earnestly.

In the car, I looked at Kenan, my eyes shining with gratitude and love. “You did great,” I said softly. “They really like you.”

Kenan sighed in relief, a smile spreading across his face. “I’m glad. I just want them to know how much you mean to me.”

“They do,” I assured him, leaning over to kiss him. “And so do I.”

As we drove away, I felt a sense of peace. The evening had gone better than I had hoped, and I knew my parents had seen the same thing I saw in Kenan: a loving, dedicated partner who would always be there for me.

[mariaofdoranelle]

Look at Us Now - ch. 26

Fic masterlist

Did I just rearrange my outline to add a filler chapter inspired by this incredible art by @sassyhobbits? Yes, yes I did.

Warnings: disgustingly lovesick Lorcan

Words: 2,3k

Aelin had only realized she’d taken a nap when she woke up from it. Not that it was a big surprise, given how shitty she was feeling today, but she still woke up feeling a little lost.

At the exact same time, she noticed the lack of light leaking through the curtains and two deep voices coming from the living room.

Salvaterre was still here.

Elide left for a conference two days ago, and suddenly Lorcan was everywhere. The man said Charlie could use a playdate with Maisie because he missed his mom, but he couldn’t fool anyone with that lost puppy aura he exhaled whenever his wife wasn’t within a 10-meter radius.

Aelin groaned, blindly searching for her phone on Rowan’s side of the bed. He wasn’t there to cuddle her while she woke up from her nap, and it was on Lorcan—no, not because Aelin and Rowan were both busy adults responsible for an unruly child, it was truly all Lorcan’s fault.

She opened DAFriends and Dorian, the gang’s groupchat named by Fenrys after one of his many jokes about his partner being the only one that never served in the Doranellian Air Force.

Aelin: Elide

Aelin: Please come pick your child

Aedion: oh no

Aedion: whatever charlie did

Aedion: my bets are on maisie tricking him into it

Aelin: i meant lorcan.

Lorcan: Fuck you.

Elide: I wish I could [tired emoji]

Aelin put her phone down, wrapped the baby blue microfiber blanket around herself and left for the living room. However, an odd sight made her stop, peering from the hallway to further study the scene before her.

Maisie, Charlie, Lorcan and Rowan were gathered on the floor, around the short coffee table—the kids elegantly sat, and both men hunched around it; the table’s usual decoration was exchanged for a baby pink tablecloth, accompanied by milk, cookies, and plastic tableware. Both kids had light makeup and toy accessories on, from candy rings to princess pretend jewelry, but the dads were the real showstopper.

Watching oh-so-stoic Rowan dressed up for whatever Maisie made him play along, beaded necklaces and all, wasn’t a rare sight, even if it would be forever amusing.

But Lorcan?

Major Salvaterre, a commanding officer capable of making military men cry, had just been caught at a princess tea party, being warned by his son to not ruin the makeup as he ate, while wearing a plastic crown and a pink feather boa.

And the icing on the cake was that Aelin couldn’t even be mad that the kids took her incredibly expensive makeup without her permission, because they absentmindedly made their dads look like horror movie dolls.

“Charles,” Maisie called in a voice that was likely an attempt to sound serious and sophisticated, but that was not the main concern here. Who the fuck was Charles? Her friend’s name was just Charlie.

She continued, “Why did the T-Rex walk on the side of the road?”

The boy tilted his head with a grave expression. “Why?”

“Because of cars, of course.”

Charlie tilted his head back in a strong and slightly forced way; it might not be his intention, but he sounded like a cartoon villain laughing. Then, “Very funny, Maisianne.”

Rowan straightened his posture and added, “I found it highly amusing, Maisy Daisy.”

Lorcan nodded. “Very important for T-Rex safety.”

He looked at Rowan, who easily met his gaze. Whatever the men were thinking, their exchange was indecipherable, somewhere between amusement and embarrassment and resignation and whatnot.

Whatever they were feeling, Aelin knew they’d never bring this up again—thank Mala she saw it, then. And took a picture.

She stepped into the living room to make her presence known.

“Purple eyeshadow suits you, Salvaterre.”

“Glad I pulled it off, Lieutenant.” He looked at her up and down with complete indifference. “I’d say the same, but I think the kids put it in under your eyes instead.”

Bastard.

It was like something clicked inside Rowan’s head, and he immediately looked up to assess her. “You’re felling better, honey?”

“Kind of.” She sat on the couch with her legs crossed, still wrapped on her blanket. “I want pepperoni pizza.”

The kids cheered and the men silently consented, but even if they protested, it was three against two now. Pizza won, always.

Fleetfoot settled on the couch with her and the others resumed their tea party, but Lorcan wouldn’t stop checking his phone. It’d be silly to even wonder whose reply he was waiting for.

Aelin teased, “You’re the first man ever to get abandoned during a pregnancy. I wonder why.”

Lorcan averted his eyes from the phone, sending a thunderous look that never worked on her. “I’m trying to look after my pregnant partner, not that you’d understand.”

“You’re right. I’ll make sure to apologize when I knock Rowan up.”

Rowan’s reaction was nothing more than a short guttural sound, as he made sure that snicker died halfway on his throat and looked down with clamped lips, trying not to upset his friend further.

Aelin could assume Lorcan’s agony was kinda cute, but that hovering would leave her insane if she was in Elide’s shoes. Yes, the woman was pregnant, but Lorcan’s incredibly smart and healthy wife wasn’t in real danger during a medical conference, surrounded by other doctors.

Maisie cut in with, “Uncle Lorcan, Mom said you’re getting a boy.” Maisie looked between him and Charlie with a wrinkled nose. “Why are you always planting boys on Auntie Ellie?”

Aelin’s eyes went wide. “Maisie, he can’t choose that!”

“Yes, he can!” The little girl huffed. “Like how Daddy picks if he’s planting a kingsflower or a daisy—when he plants the seed in your belly again, I want him to plant another girl.”

“Honey, you can’t choose if—“

“I don’t wanna live with a boy!”

“Ouch,” Rowan said, clutching his pearls—beaded necklaces, in that case.

Aelin sighed. “That babies and gardening thing we told you was more like a metaphor, love.”

Maisie frowned. “A meteor?”

Their conversation was interrupted by the pizza delivery guy’s arrival, and Aelin couldn’t be more relieved. She’d take any chance to escape some of her daughter’s questions.

The pizza box was placed at the tea party table where the milk and cookies used to be, but the dads’ excitement to eat was interrupted by a horror-filled silence.

Lorcan tilted his head, trying to understand what was placed in front of him. “Is that…?”

“Pepperoni,” Aelin said, grinning like the devil. “With a Nutella stuffed crust.”

She rolled the rest of the pizza around its crust, making a bulky roll out of the slice, and put as much as she could into her mouth. The pepperoni’s spice clashed directly with the Nutella’s sweet hazelnut, the cheese balancing both with that mild texture. Along with it, she got one of Maisie’s grape juice boxes for herself.

Fucking perfect. Aelin leaned back on the couch, eyes briefly falling closed with bliss.

When she opened them back up, it was to meet Lorcan’s horrified gaze—which was slowly aimed at Rowan, who just shrugged and cut the chocolate off his slice.

He waved it at Aelin. “Want my crust, babe?”

“Me!” Maisie said, making a grabbing gesture.

Rowan obliged, then jutted his chin towards his girlfriend. “Next one’s yours.”

Good. A Nutella stuffed crust would go wasted with a chocolate hater like him.

But something must’ve gone wrong because, soon after Aelin ate her three slices plus two crusts given by Rowan, it seemed like that food wasn’t settling well in her stomach.

That little discomfort burned more by the minute, so Aelin pressed one of the couch’s pillows against her stomach, her teeth ground together. The food threatened to revolt and come back up, making her wince, which didn’t go unnoticed by Rowan.

Her boyfriend was by her side in a second, assessing every sign of distress. “What’s going on?”

She nodded. “Just a little indigestion, I—“

Maisie stood on her mother’s other side, wide green eyes cautiously assessing her. “Mommy, you okay?”

Aelin pushed the pain aside to give her daughter a nod and a grin. “Perfect. I can do it with a tummy ache.”

She excused herself to leave for the bathroom and sat on the floor, next to the toilet just in case. Her stomach felt like a boiling cauldron of corrosive acid that was about to eat her whole, and Aelin was taking deep breaths, stars bursting behind her eyelids as cold sweat broke out on her skin.

Aelin didn’t know how long it’d been when two knocks on the door caught her attention. To her surprise, it was Lorcan, holding out a yellow-ish glass of water.

She eyed it suspiciously, but took it. “This water isn’t crystal clear.” Aelin held it up against the light and squinted an eye at it. “This isn’t poisoned, right? You sure you’re not trying to finish the job?”

Lorcan rolled his eyes. “It’s ginger water. It helped Elide with the…” he trailed with a sudden inquisitive look, “nausea stuff.”

He walked out of the toilet as quickly as he entered, but Aelin could still hear him say, “I hope you didn’t knock her up, man, because there’s still time to bail.”

“Shut your mouth, you twerp!” Aelin shouted from the bathroom, the kid-appropriate insults easily rolling off her tongue.

That wasn’t her preferred choice of drink, but Aelin felt like she didn’t have much of a choice now. She gulped what she deemed enough, then a little more when Rowan walked inside to check on her.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked while sitting beside her on the floor.

She shrugged. “It’s manageable.”

He slowly nodded, his gaze fixed on a tiny crack on the bathroom tile. Aelin gave him space to process his thoughts, knowing it was a matter of time before he said, “About what Lorcan said before…” A frown. “You’re not, right?”

Knocked up, he meant.

“I’m not, baby,” she replied with a small smile, because it was such Rowan thing to fret over one single nausea episode.

He hummed and scooted close enough to wrap one arm around Aelin. “I know we’re working on our timing, but I wouldn’t mind it, you know? If you were…”

“Yeah, me too. It’d be good news.” Aelin nuzzled where his chest met his shoulder, both still sat on the bathroom floor.

“Incredible news.” He pecked her head, and Aelin knew there was still something brewing in that mind of his. A moment later, he continued, “How did you know it with Maisie? Not how did you find out, but like, what gave it away?”

“Nothing. I found out because of an exam. It was pretty random, actually—I didn’t even believe it at first.”

Rowan jerked upwards, his pine-green eyes wide as saucers and fully aimed at her. “Nothing? You had absolutely no clue you were pregnant until it was shoved at your face?”

“Yeah, I dunno.” She tilted her head, flooded with memories of that time of her life. “I was having military training fourteen hours a day, every day. That can be as physically straining as producing a tiny human. But I got my last period…” Aelin looked upwards, lips pursed as she tried to recall this piece of information with accuracy. “Recently.”

“That’s not very reassuring.” Her boyfriend was still, raptly watching her.

A chuckle. “Let’s say it’s statistically unlikely that I’m pregnant right now.”

“Very well, then,” Rowan said, that frown being replaced by a soft smile. They settled that way, hanging on to each other while he played with the ends of her hair.

To be honest, Aelin wasn’t worried about getting pregnant right now. When you finish a certain age of girlhood—the one when pregnancy is a frightening thing that puts your name in everyone’s lips and allegedly ruins your life—your worst nightmare might become something you really want, and you realize it’s harder to achieve than you previously thought.

Accidents still happened, Maisie being one of them, but for most of her friends, having a kid on your 30’s takes actively trying for months or even years, not just neglecting condoms by choice every now and then, after less than four months together with your partner.

“I thought that little hellion two doors down had made your hair gray enough already,” Aelin teased, thinking about what was ahead of them. What she knew they both wanted in a near-ish future.

“About the kids…”

“Uh-oh. What now?”

“They asked to have a sleepover here.”

Aelin’s shoulders sagged with relief. Maisie’s news could be anything between spilled water and arson. “Yeah, of course. We can handle Maisianne and Charles,” she said, mocking their tea party’s fake names. “Just send his dad home.”

“About that…”

Oh no. “Spill.”

“Lorcan didn’t like the idea—maybe he didn’t want to be home alone? I dunno. The kids started a tantrum, so I ended up offering him Fenrys’ old room for tonight, that way he let Charlie stay.”

“Oh, come on!” Aelin gave him an incredulous glare. “Ellie’s in a four-day trip, her grown husband is not an abandoned puppy.”

Rowan gave her a pleading look. “But he looks so miserable.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Only because I think his ginger thing is actually working.”

“You’re a doctor. You’re supposed to know if it works or not.”

A shrug. “I’m an orthopedist. It’ll only be my business when I start throwing up bones.”

“Yet, you use the I’m a doctor card whenever it suits you.”

“Whenever you’re being an overbearing fussy Buzzard, you mean.” Aelin snuggled closer, wrapping her arms around her boyfriend’s frame.

“Yep,” he said around a smile, “And I’ll be exactly that now that you’re sick and Lorcan’s babysitting.”

“If he doesn’t have a nightmare about his wife and ends up cuddling with you at night, you mean.”

“Now you’re just being mean.” Rowan chuckled, his eyes filled with something molten as he gazed at her.

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[hp-hcs]

yandere! mother! narcissa malfoy & gn! malfoy! reader

just some quick lil headcanons for you guys since i’m jetlagged as fuck 🥲👍

(also, anon, yes i do have your request! dw, tumblr did not eat it :D )

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

let’s say the darling is younger than draco, by a fairly significant amount. maybe three or four years

as the baby of the family, you get all of the malfoys’ overprotective behaviors

lucius is definitely overprotective, yes, but he’s always just sort of distant in nature, so it never comes off as oppressive as narcissa’s

but if you got your heart broken hoooo boy, the poor sap better start writing their last will and testament

(that is, assuming narcissa or your brother didn’t already get to them first 😬)

((although let’s be honest, you wouldn’t be allowed to pursue any romantic relationships. a partner might try to take narcissa’s darling away from her, and we can’t have that))

from the time you were born, you had always been narcissa’s darling

she wouldn’t let anyone else hold you, because what if her darling started liking lucius or auntie bella more than her? no no, we can’t have that

you two were practically attached at the hip. so much so, that she rarely even let you play with your brother

if you were hanging out with draco, then you weren’t hanging out with her, and that was An Issue™

up until you were maybe… five or so, your bed was in narcissa’s room

(which wasn’t a problem. look at that dysfunctional family and tell me lucius and narcissa don’t have a sleep-in-different-beds situation going on)

narcissa was having a tea party? you were in her lap or playing with your toys on the floor at her feet.

narcissa went shopping? no no, lucius. really, it isn’t a problem. y/n loves going shopping with me, isn’t that right dear?

narcissa was seeing draco off as he boarded the express for his first year? well, first he was going to have to hug his little sibling goodbye. but not for too long, narcissa hates when other people touch her darling.

narcissa saw her toddler darling wave to another wizard child across the street? she’ll buy you everything: candy, toys, books, whatever she perceives you as needing in order to stay by her side. just don’t expect to be allowed outdoors for a while.

some of narcissa’s friends come to visit? oh yes, this is y/n, say hi, dear. no, they’re very sick right now and must stay in their room, the poor thing.

she definitely dresses you up in outfits that are matching or complimentary to hers

you’re really just like a possession, in her mind. you’re a thing to be owned, something to sit still and look cute, rather than a living breathing human child

now, hogwarts. hogwarts is tough.

given you and your brother’s age difference, you should be entering your first year at about the same time as the dark lord returns.

this is great news for your mother

she now has a plausible excuse for homeschooling you. oh, no, my husband and i are just so worried, given the state of things.

(if anyone asks why they don’t homeschool both of their children, narcissa’s lips will thin into a straight line, and her top lip will curl back into a sneer. it’s so unsettling to see that people just drop the question.)

she has the house elves make you your favorites every day for meals, all while sighing about how the house elves at hogwarts won’t ever make you these, it’s such a shame.

by the time the next year rolls around and you can go to school, your mother only does so because of the dark lord’s newfound residence inside malfoy manor.

she is Not Happy™.

draco is overjoyed. now he has a chance to be around his darling little sibling without his pesky mother in the way

as a prefect, he has his own private dorm room. he pulls a few heartstrings, really, professor mcgonagall, i’m just worried about my sibling leaving my sight, especially in these uncertain times, and convinces the staff to let you move in.

draco’s friends try to sit with you both on the train, but that does not go well

“hey, little malfoy. i don’t think we’ve officially met yet.”

“nott, if you don’t stop looking at my y/n, i’ll rip out your eyes myself.”

so basically, you’re fucked! 👍😆👍🌈✨💖