#maybe i shouldn't start making these at midnight

[hwalovs]

Days and Nights (M)

Pairing; Mike Schmidt x reader Word count; 2635 Warnings; this is pure smut, maybe a little plot. Kissing, whining, dom/sub themes, unprotected sex (wrap it you freaks), they get right to it, breeding kink? kind of?, they'reliterallyinloveshutupbro

Description; Being the day shift guard has its perks, you get to leave at midnight, you get to leave for lunch while all the fast food restaurants were still open, and you get to see the cute night shift guard before you leave.

A/N; i am feral for this man, I don't know what happened. one day i watched the movie, the next im frothing at the mouth for another white boy. this is so short i might write something longer for him.

after finding my fic reposted on wattpad, I'm going to make clear; DO NOT REPOST THIS WITHOUT ASKING OR WITHOUT PROPER CREDIT.

I will only let this pass once, as for my other fics, DO NOT REPOST THEM.

THIS IS NOT EDITED

Mike was hired two months before you, first seeing you before he started his nightly shift at the pizzeria. You were standing outside, reading through a book before looking up when you heard his car door shut. You smiled, and dropped your book back into your bag before walking over. Your car was parked further away from his, but you went out of your way to walk up to him. 

From then on, you two were friends, always seeing each other after your shift and before his. You always made sure his badge was straight, and he always made sure to tell you to get home safe. Sometimes you both would stop to ask each other about your days, he talked about his sister, and you talked about your cats. 

One day, he got there a little early, wanting to get in and use his time to sleep, to try and find more clues about what happened to his brother. He found you asleep at the security desk. Snoring softly, the monitors flickering in and out. He smiled, setting his stuff down besides yours before walking closer, bending down so he could see you more clearly. One of your cheeks was squished against your arm, your breathing even. 

“(Y/n),” he cooed, reaching up to move a piece of your hair. You stir, slowly opening your eyes before realizing who it was in front of you. Shooting up, you rub your eyes and stutter, looking at him, and then the clock.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t even realize I fell asleep!”

He smiles, standing back up and leaning against the desk. He watched you rush around with tired eyes, collecting your stuff while rattling on how active the animatronics were. 

He found you like once or twice, but never regularly. Sometimes he would find a forgotten coffee cup, and he would smile before throwing it away. It was the little things about you that he was slowly picking up on. He remembered each one, and wanted to learn more about you. 

Mike knew he was in too deep when you were getting ready to leave one day, packing up the rest of your stuff and flashing him that dazzling smile you always did. It made him forget the Dream Theory book resting in his bag, or the pills that accompany it. He forgot for just a second why he was there so early, why he was itching to fall asleep at the desk in the first place. 

You stand from the chair, badge catching the light, and when you sigh and roll your neck, whimpering at the tight knot, he shivers. He shouldn't, he knows that, you're his coworker, someone who endures the same nightmare he did- but he couldn’t stop the thoughts of you underneath him, whimpering as he sunk deeper inside you, stopping when his hips were flush against-

“Mike!” 

Your voice felt like ice water, rattling him until he was back in reality. He shifts, hoping that his sweatshirt covers how hard he was. There was a small part of him, deep within his brain, that did hope you saw, that you’d offer to help him. 

“Yeah?” He clears his throat, swallowing when his mouth waters. Smiling, you tilt your head, and he feels his stomach drop. 

“Did you hear me?”

He curses himself, “yeah! Yeah.”

Your eyes narrow, “what did I say, then?”

You were teasing him. You had to be, you were smiling again, and as you walked closer, he tried to rack his brain, trying to remember what you were saying. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Your voice is quiet, and you’re right in front of him. He can smell your perfume, can see the shine of your chapstick that's on your lips. 

“I- uh-”

“You’re so cute,” you chuckle, and it throws him off balance. He almost falls from the whiplash you’ve given him. You usually don’t stop to talk to him like this, you usually pack up and bid your goodbyes, warning him on the animatronics movement- but with how close you were, that he could smell your perfume, he realized he didn’t care. You were here, in front of him, calling him cute.

“What?”

You lean in close this time, your breath tickling his ear. 

“You heard me, Mike. Or are you lost in your thoughts again?”

Your lips press against his and it's the only thing he can think about. Your lips taste like strawberries, and your mouth tastes exactly like he thought it would. Your hands are in his hair, and his are gripping your waist tightly. 

He wonders when he’ll wake up, if this is a dream. When you lightly bite his lip, he moans, and comes to the conclusion that you’re real, and you’re kissing him. 

Pushing you both from the doorway, he backs you up to the desk. Kicking the chair away, he blindly reaches behind you to push away the small controllers that litter the top. He hears something crash onto the floor, but pays it no mind when you're sucking on his tongue. 

His hands reach under your thighs, lifting you onto the desk, and your hands fumble at his belt, the fog that settled on his mind clears for a moment, and he pulls away.

“Here?”

You furrow your eyebrows, before smirking and leaning forwards, “you don’t want it?”

“I do- I really do-”

“Then what’s stopping you?” He tries to think, but can’t when it's only youyouyou on his mind. Flooding his senses, invading his thoughts and making him feel crazy ever since the day he met you. His jeans are tight, and he can feel the precum that's pooling in his underwear. 

“Fuck,” he surges to kiss you again, reaching down to unbutton your jeans. He slides his hands into the waistband, and you use the edge of the desk to push yourself up, letting him yank the jeans off in one fluid motion, your panties going with it. 

The desk was cold on your skin, but you didn’t care when Mike lifted his shirt, biting into the fabric and pushing his pants down far enough to free his cock.

In any other situation, Mike would have you in his bed, pillow under your hips while he eats you out for hours on end. He knew you would taste amazing, just like he knew your mouth would taste amazing. You were perfect to him, and that's the only thing on his mind when he was pressing into you. 

Mike's cock was thick, stretching you out perfectly, a slight burn following. You didn’t stop him, though, because his eyes were locked onto where his cock was slowly sinking into you, and his hands were shaking at the warmth you brought him. 

The monitors behind you continued to show the empty space of the Pizzaria, but it was at the back of both of your minds. Mike’s shirt was still caught between his teeth, his stomach smooth and perfect. He didn’t make a sound until his hips were flush against yours, and the whine he let out made you clench around him. 

His eyebrows furrowed, and he finally looked up at you, pupils dilated, curly hair a mess. Reaching up, you pull the shirt from between his teeth, the fabric wet, and grab the back of his head to drag him into a kiss. His lips are hot against yours, and his tongue licks into your mouth desperately. He moans as he tastes you again, and you grab his hips, trying to pull him further. 

When you pull away, you suck onto his bottom lip, looking at him through your lashes, “look at you,” you coo, “you’re so pretty, baby.”

He whines, blushing as he grinds against you. Finally finding a slow rhythm of deep thrusts. It lets you feel all of him, and lets him feel all of you. He stretched you out so well, and it almost felt like you could feel him in your stomach. He was perfect. 

“You’re so warm,” he whimpers, forehead resting against yours. Pulling at your vest, you manage to throw it to the floor with his, the metal badge chiming against the linoleum. He seems to understand what you’re doing, reaching for the end of your t-shirt, pulling it up quickly. The office was cold, your nipples hardening underneath your bra. You grab at his shirt next, his arms raising so you’re able to throw the shirt to the floor. His hips falter, but he continues.

Mike begins to leave kisses down your neck, biting your bra strap to push it to the side, letting it fall down your arm. He grabs the top of your bra, yanking it down and groaning at the sight of your exposed chest. 

“Fuck,” he curses, licking his lips before surging forwards, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, tongue swirling the bud. Your head falls back against the top of the monitor, moaning loudly. 

Mike pulls away, a string of saliva connects his bottom lip to your nipple, but you lift your head to move closer, licking the spit from his lip to kiss him again. 

There was a heat slowly building in your gut, and you wrap an arm around Mike’s shoulders, trying to make him go harder, to go faster, but he just looks at you with a smirk.

“What is it? Huh?” He asks, his breath heavy. You whine, nails scratching at his skin. 

“Mike-”

He tsks, “common, baby,” he coos, “talk to me.”

“Please- Mike please- harder, fuck me harder,” theres a heat in your cheeks, and you feel your eyes burn at the building coil in your gut. 

Yet, Mike only looks at you with a growing smile, “Harder? You want me to fuck you harder, baby? But why?” He whines, “You feel so good like this.”

“Oh my god,” you moan in frustration, hand reaching in between you both to reach your clit, but his hand grabs your wrist, pinning it behind your back. 

“What is it, baby?”

There's that teasing smirk again, and you can feel your eyes burn. Your orgasm was right there, yet he was slowing down, causing it to be pushed further away. 

“I wanna cum, please, Mike- Please make me cum,” a sob threatens to spill from your lips, but Mike shushes you, kissing you softly. His stubble tickles your cheeks as he lays kisses onto your skin. He bites onto your neck, moaning as you clench around him again, sucking until the skin is bright red. 

He grabs onto your hips, leaning back to look down at where he disappears into you, and begins thrusting harder, letting go of your wrist to allow you to grab onto his shoulders once more. Bringing a hand to his mouth, he licks the pad of his thumb before snaking it between your bodies, rubbing tight circles around your clit. 

Throwing your head back, you almost cry at the hot coil in your stomach threatening to snap, and you can feel the tears that roll down your cheeks. 

“Please- Please, make me cum- wanna cum so bad-” you begging, pleading, in jumbled words that Mike can barely make out. Your legs are locked around his waist, pulling him closer. 

When you cum, your thighs tense around his waist, almost stopping him. Your mouth drops open, and a soft whine falls from your lips. You're clenching so tight around him, Mike almost cums himself, but bends down to bite onto your shoulder to stop himself. He refuses to cum yet, he wants to keep making you feel good. To see you fall apart around him again. 

He leaves another kiss where he was biting down on you, pulling away to leave kisses across your cheeks, before finally stopping to kiss you once more. You're breathing heavily, thighs shaking from the intense orgasm. 

Sliding out of you, he whines softly, pulling you from the desk so you’re standing, he only smiles at your confused face, grabbing your neck softly to pull you into another kiss, tongue licking into your mouth.

“Turn around, baby,” he sighs, holding your hips as you do. The table digs into your hips as you bend down, breasts pressing flat against the cold surface, but he tsks, grabbing your neck once more to pull you back up. His thumb was below your jaw, pressing against your pulse point just enough to feel your heart race.

He uses his other hand to press onto your lower back, making you arch, then reaching down to grab his cock once more and slide through your folds. You were so wet, cum slowly beginning to drip down your thighs. In one smooth thrust, Mike presses his hips flush against your ass, his hand still lightly gripping your neck to keep you against his chest. 

“There you go,” he whimpers, pressing kisses along your shoulders. He starts to thrust again, and you have to bite your lip to stop from moaning loudly. 

He felt so much deeper like this, hitting the spot inside you that had your eyes rolling back. 

There was still a buzz from your orgasm, but it was quickly building into another. Your thighs were shaking, and your palms were flat on the desk, nails digging into the wood. 

“M’gonna cum again-” you moan, knees almost buckling as the rapidly building heat. Mike smiles from behind you, but moves his hand from your waist again, snaking it down once more to circle his fingers around your swollen clit. 

“Again? You gonna cum for me again, pretty girl?”

“Oh my god- Mike-” You’re cumming before you even realize it. Head blank except for the thought of him-

His grip on your throat tightens just slightly, and you reach up to grab his wrist. His hips falter, breathy moans filling your ears as he presses your hips harder into the desk. You knew there would be bruising, but at the moment you didn’t care. You would let Mike do anything he wanted to you, as long as he kept making those heavenly noises for you. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good baby,” he slurs, “my pretty baby- you’re just perfect f’me- Perfect fuckin’ pussy too-” 

“Mike, please” you whimper, arching your back more for him. 

He hums, thrusting harder into you, “that's right baby-” he leans forwards to tilt your head, locking eyes with you, “say my name.”

“Mike-”

He groans, head rolling until your noses touch, “again, say it again baby- please-”

“Mike!-” 

“I’m gonna cum- fuck-” 

Your hand is wrapping around the grab onto him, nails dragging across his skin, “Inside me- please cum inside me- wanna feel you so bad-” 

Mike’s thrusts stop, grinding against you as he spills inside of you. Uttering your name under his breath like it's the only thing he’s ever known. 

You were everything he’s ever wanted. To have you clenching so tight around him, to be able to have you like this was like a dream to him. He never wanted to wake, he wanted to stay here with you forever, but as you both collected yourselves, his cum sliding down your thighs and dripping onto the floor, he knew better than that. He’s sitting in that uncomfortable chair again, watching as you slide your jeans on. You forgo your panties, reaching down to unzip his bag, smiling as you let them drop inside. 

“Do you wanna go on a date?”

You laugh, and it fills the room with a brightness he knew only you could bring. 

“I think we’re way past going on a date.”

“Then how about dinner? I make a mean Spaghetti and meatballs,” he smiles, and feels like his world is complete when you lean down to press a kiss to his lips, “I’d love that.”

[incognit0slut]

Much Ado About Nothing (Act III, Scene III: The Close Encounter)

The tension between you and Spencer finally snaps as you find yourself sharing the same bed.

Part warning: sexual tension and (finally) heavy kissing Words: 1.6k A/n: this is relatively short because I got really busy this week😭 i’m so sawry

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

You weren’t stupid. You knew exactly why he kept that book on his lap the entire time. It just seemed wiser to pretend not to notice—not just for his sake, but for yours too. The less said, the better, especially when your own reaction had been anything but subtle. Because who the hell would moan at the slightest touch? Who would shudder and gasp from a mere brush of fingers across the skin?

Well… you, apparently.

You couldn't believe he managed to fluster you this much. This was Spencer. Spencer. Someone so complicated in your life, the same guy you swore you'd never let yourself get close to. Yet here you were, pulse racing and cheeks hot, all because of a few innocent touches that shouldn't have meant anything.

No, you were probably too caught up in this stupid situation. It was the only explanation that made sense, that had to be it. And now, you needed to pull yourself together. A reset, perhaps. A way to snap back to reality and remind yourself that everything was just a performance. Because there was no way in hell that these feelings were real—they couldn't be.

So you did what you did best: you kept your distance. Not completely, but just enough to keep the act while building an ever taller wall between you. You touched his arm occasionally, you even leaned on him when others were around. But whenever it wasn’t necessary to be by his side, you avoided being alone with him.

Until later that night.

You had been so focused on avoiding him that you completely forgot the dread nagging at you since this morning. You lingered with the girls, laughing over the last drops of wine until you somewhat felt the slight buzz of alcohol in your system. It was close to midnight when you finally made your way back to your room, only to stop dead in your tracks.

The bathroom door swung open just as you entered, and there he was—fresh out of a quick shower. His hair was slightly damp, carelessly flopping onto his forehead, and he was clad in a classic pajama set, stripes of soft blue and white that somehow suited him. Your gaze slowly drifted back to his face, catching his gaze just as time seemed to freeze.

Neither of you moved, neither of you spoke, and you wondered whether you could fake a fight and slip into Penelope’s room when he finally cleared his throat.

“I, uh, I’ll just grab a pillow,” he mumbled awkwardly, motioning towards the floor.

You watched him fumble with the flimsy pillow, his fingers clumsily adjusting its corners, and the sight made you feel bad. The thought of him all curled up on the floor while you sprawled out on a queen-sized bed felt downright ridiculous, but at the same time, the idea of laying so close to him was making your palms sweat.

“Wait,” you blurted out, surprising even yourself. “I…”

Say it. Just say it.

“You can sleep on the bed.”

You winced as the words left your mouth, but Spencer just looked at you, frowning slightly. “I don’t want to take the bed if it means you’re on the floor.”

You shook your head quickly, almost laughing at the absurdity of the situation. “I mean… we can share it?”

His eyes went cartoonishly wide.

“You want to share the bed?”

You nodded.

“As in… both of us?”

You nodded again.

His voice turned a pitch higher. "Together?"

“Yeah, just… you know, you stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine,” you added, trying to sound more confident than you felt. The room was suddenly too warm, too stifling. Or maybe it was just the heat rising to your cheeks. You waited for his response, but when he seemed to hesitate, you started to second-guess yourself.

“You know what, just forget about it—”

“No!” He quickly said. He cleared his throat again. “We can... we can share the bed.”

You held his gaze, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

One long second passed until you bolted into the bathroom with your change of clothes.

You slammed the bathroom door behind you, your breath catching in your throat. You quickly stripped yourself naked, a little more harshly than necessary, and pulled on your shorts and t-shirt. The fabric clung to your skin as if it too sensed the shift in the air.

It’s just one night, you repeated in your head like a mantra. You were just going to sleep. Sure you had history, and sure, sharing a bed would complicate things further. But the two of you had shared spaces before—late nights at the office, long stakeouts in cramped cars. This was no different. It had to be no different.

Finally feeling somewhat calmer, you unlocked the door and stepped out. Spencer was already under the covers, his back to you, the lines of his shoulders tense under the thin blanket. The mattress dipped slightly with your weight when you finally slipped under the covers, and you lay down on the very edge, as far from him as possible without making it obvious.

One minute turned into two, and then those minutes stretched into more, and you realized both of you were still very much wide awake. The quiet was starting to drive you insane.

“Reid?”

His voice was oddly quiet. “Yes?”

But what were you even trying to say? You scrambled for something, anything, but you couldn’t find the right words. Your thoughts felt tangled, a jumble of half-formed ideas that fizzled out before they could be voiced.

Spencer noticed your hesitation and turned towards you. “What is it?”

Feeling flustered by the way he was looking at you—especially when you caught him glancing briefly at your lips—you blurted out the first thing that came to mind, which wasn’t at all what you’d planned to discuss.

“When do you think we should fake our breakup?”

The question hung awkwardly in the air. You regretted it the moment it left your lips, but there was no taking it back now. His gaze changed subtly.

“Break up?”

You nodded, feeling suddenly foolish but too committed to stop. “Yeah, I mean, with how things are going… and how we’re supposed to be pretending, right? It just… it feels like something we should plan out, doesn’t it?”

Spencer watched you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to read your thoughts. Finally, he let out a slow breath, nodding slightly.

“Sure… we should have a plan.”

“Maybe we could have a big argument,” you suggested.

He shifted to face you, the bed sheets rustling softly under him. "What kind of argument?"

"Something dramatic," you proposed, your heart beating a little faster as the distance seemed to close with his every subtle movement. "Something public where everyone can see it’s over."

“I don’t think we can handle something that intense."

“You’re right,” you agreed softly. “Something… simple then?”

Spencer unconsciously licked his lips, a brief, nervous gesture. Your eyes followed the movement, lingering just a second too long. “We could just say it isn’t working out.”

You drew your eyes back to his, and unconsciously, your foot brushed against him under the covers. He tensed for a moment. But after a pause that stretched a beat too long, he shifted slightly, not to pull away but to gently rest his leg against yours.

“You think that will be enough?” you whispered, your breath hitching slightly.

“Maybe,” he replied, his voice equally low. “We can say we want different things.”

You swallowed hard. “Different?”

"Different… paths, maybe," he suggested, his leg sliding against yours again and you felt a rush of heat spread through your body. You could hardly think when you were too focused on the sensation of his bare skin against yours.

"Like... we grew apart?"

He nodded slowly. “Seems believable.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it. The space between you seemed to shrink with every word.

“Believable,” you echoed.

He moved a fraction closer. “Yeah, believable.”

Your eyes locked, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop spinning. You could see the slight hesitation in his eyes, a question perhaps about crossing a line. But then he leaned in, closing the remaining distance, his forehead touching yours. Your eyes fluttered closed as his breath brushed against your lips… and then there was no space left at all.

You felt him everywhere. Your mouth, your waist, your thigh. Spencer Reid was kissing you, and it felt utterly surreal. Although this wasn't the first time you found yourself in this position, you chose to ground yourself in this moment, letting the past fade into a distant memory.

So you focused on the way his lips barely brushed against yours, his touch so soft and tentative at first before he slightly pulled away. It was as if he was testing the waters, trying to gauge your reaction. When you moved forward, closing the gap between you, he finally kissed you again, his lips moving against yours with a growing sense of urgency.

Everything around you started to blur, the edges of reality fading as your every sense focused on his touch, his warmth, his scent. When he carefully slipped his leg between yours, you sighed into the kiss, a soft, inviting sound that encouraged him further. He took it as an invitation, his tongue gently probing at the seam of your lips until you parted them.

The moment his tongue met yours, you were overwhelmed with a rush of sensation. You held onto him, tracing your hands along his back, feeling his body tense under your touch as you pulled him closer. His hands were just as busy, one cradling the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, while the other gripped your waist, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t get enough.

You didn't know how long you stayed like that. When you finally pulled back for air, you were both breathing hard, your foreheads still touching. Your fingers lingered on the nape of his neck, tracing delicate patterns while his thumb gently brushed your cheek. There was a moment of stillness, a shared breath, before he moved again.

Spencer leaned in for another kiss, and as you pulled him closer to you, you knew this was no longer about pretending. What you felt was as real as the lingering taste of him on your lips, a reality that was impossible for you to deny.

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 6

[prompt: blowjob]

male reader x hyeju

12k words

“I mean, don’t you think,” Hyeju says, wagging a finger at you, “that when you suffer through a bad date, the world ought to owe you something?”

"Like what?" you ask.

"Better taste in women - maybe more orgasms; I dunno, a blowjob?" She shrugs. "The general idea is just that someone gets to cum."

You nearly choke on the air in front of you. "Jesus, Hyeju, warn a guy."

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Hyeju laughs. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Being able to kiss someone who actually, you know, might love you back, and at the same time. Imagine not hooking-up just to forget a shitty day. Sounds wild, right?"

"Utterly deranged."

"So wild."

-

The first time you hook up with your roommate, it’s because of genetics - though not in the weird, uncontrollable way your body gets rigid and sensitive to any pretty girl who wears nothing but a towel moving between her bedroom and the bathroom, or how her eyes might flick fast from your chest up to yours - or given that the absolute shape of her is a blessing from one god or another (benevolent, clearly). That's not why Hyeju and you find yourselves only a few months later grinding on each other after the clock ticked past midnight, making out on New Year's Eve.

No, it has to do with the fact that Hyeju's nearly failing the nine AM section of molecular genetics because she's spent every lecture doodling stars and planets and planets shaped like asscheeks and planet-ass constellations while everyone else writes notes or doom scrolls twitter or whatever and she is somehow simultaneously the only student who never slept with her face on the lab desk or missed an assigned reading and the only one who absolutely needs a tutor.

It's just cosmic odds that you'd be that one: her roommate, who shouldn't be talking so loudly in the library about sex (in a sort of non-sexy, Mendelian kind of way) or be thinking the kind of things you've started thinking when Hyeju wears one of her more sleepshirt-esque long sleeves, her voice getting lower as you rattle off, "fruit flies and thale cress, definitely, it's just an error of fate or chromosome splitting..." before trailing off into a question.

"This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me," she finally tells you. You listen to her sigh into the binding of her textbook, facedown. "I'm really going to bomb this exam."

You tap her hand twice with your highlighter across the desk. "Then you're pretty damn lucky, if you think about it."

She turns to you, smiles a bit. "Okay, point. The worst thing will be having to retake this stupid fucking class."

"Why didn't you ask for help or go to office hours if you knew you were... failing?"

"Maybe because doing anything more than the bare minimum to get through a class I don't care about is my definition of, failing," she mumbles. "Why didn't anyone tell me a single lab is worth half my grade? Or that the TA is this fucking unreliable? How is this the one thing, really, beyond the basics, that can't be taught by wikipedia, a wikihow article and a youtube video?"

You scoot your seat closer to her. "You really need to relax."

"Fucking tell me about it."

You turn it over in your mind a few times, capping the top of your highlighter.

"Want me to get you off?"

And it’s not like you really mean it, when you say it, which is the strangest thing: you wouldn't actually suggest it, normally, wouldn't mention it in passing and then leave yourself open to the follow up and cross examination; yet there it is, after three, four hours of cramming notes on heterochronicity and the sloshing of gametes - you actually did propose it.

Hyeju jerks up, surprised.

"Are you serious?" She looks around, nearly snorting. "In the library?"

The face you’re giving her makes her scoff.

“You’re absolutely nuts.”

You have character flaws; the inability to admit wrongdoing chief among them. Hell, maybe it's from your mother - or maybe all your brains are just scrambled by the fact that Hyeju's sitting there with her pen against her pretty lips, hair glossier than usual as she scans your face and makes your entire body feel like a reactor core in meltdown.

Maybe you can blame what comes next on that.

"I'm always serious. I'm asking a serious question," you whisper, closing the textbook and resting your elbows on top. You look around quickly, like you're sneaking something in instead of this perfectly reasonable exchange, the perfectly platonic - except maybe not so much - way for friends to help each other.

"And I'm wondering what you're asking." Her cheeks are definitely pinker, you think, or the way it fills out her face, from the bottom up, is just that easy to imagine.

“I’m saying you haven’t gotten laid in months.” Here, you realize, these blocks of mental logic that definitely weren’t there when you blurted it out start to coalesce into something solid as you go on.

And you hadn't been wrong when you thought no one had given Hyeju a helping hand in a long, long time: you've heard through the walls or the floorboards at odd hours of the morning that she spends far too long fingering herself to a mind-numbing, tear-worthy frustration that leaves her knuckle-deep but never, ever sated or satisfied.

"No one's around, you'll feel better. You said it yourself."

Not a work of your imagination here - her ears are fucking burning.

"Wait a minute." She pushes her chair back, away from you and your gleaming offer. It clatters on its back legs, and a librarian waves her finger in warning. You wave back, sheepishly, until she stops and Hyeju stands and moves away from the table to talk, hands crossed over her front.

She turns and asks in a hushed-down-voice, "how did you know - did you hear something last night?"

"You couldn't keep it down even if you wanted to, honestly."

Hyeju turns further and throws a glare at the library doors, because obviously her noisiness and their collective noisemanship, or whatever the hell the word is, is clearly the root of the whole goddamn problem.

"Look - if not, no big deal - but I'm just saying you'll probably get over it and at least think less about sex. Or at least the wrong kind of sex."

You expect her to turn, sigh, and ask if you've lost your mind. Expect her to gather her jacket from the back of her chair, take her books and stomp out the room. Or even burst out laughing at the insanity, before slapping your arm lightly, in playful retaliation - anything other than the serious look she gives you in return, tilting her head, pressing her lips.

She turns up at the ceiling for a moment, contemplating something. And it's cute. It's so very, very cute, how her mouth pouts as she considers the possibility, right up until she says, "okay, fine."

The moderate twist of surprise taking hold in your brow must be visible.

"Oh, don't tell me that was all talk. Get me thinking about the right kind of sex or whatever."

You laugh, which has the librarian staring at both of you - until the librarian stops staring and probably sees Hyeju sliding back into her chair, the full, pent-up weight of her concentration pointed your way, knees inching apart - you, and Hyeju waiting, your knee bumping into her inner thigh, leaning closer as the textbook hits the floor.

"Don't laugh."

"Not laughing, seriously. Not laughing," you stammer. “I just think you’re just full of surprises.”

She spreads her knees further and sits taller, looking right at you.

"So then, surprise me," and then presses her cheek to the crook of your elbow.

You slide your chair right into the space next to hers, nuzzling up into the space under her ear. “Keep studying, Hyeju, you’ve got shit to do.” And then you slide your hand beneath the waist of her sweats, knead the swell of her thigh until you find the seam where her leg meets her body, press your palm down on the place just next to her center, your thumb in the middle. All this perfect pressure.

"Fuck," Hyeju says under a shudder. She's breathing heavier when your hot, open-mouthed kisses start landing at her neck, and she probably tries to read her textbook for about forty-five seconds longer. But there's the clench of her jaw right as your middle finger begins tracing circles beneath the fabric of her panties, and her gaze is blurring until she can't tell the difference between an allele or your fucking name.

"Shh-shh," you quiet her, finger tapping harder, playing with the slick wetness beneath all those layers of thick cotton and pressing two fingers there until her knees part like they’re not interested in resisting at all. Your lips press a kiss to the shell of her ear and she tenses all at once, hand shooting up to cover her mouth.

She simply leans back, closes her eyes, and lets you take care of her.

“Okay, you’re right,” she says, shaky and uneven, “that really did take some of the edge off. Did we ever review - poly- uh, pol-polymers here?"

The sweatshirt sleeve falling off your shoulder is a hindrance to any actual reading; her shifting against the chair isn't helping either, but you manage to push down the thoughts of stripping her down completely and giving her your tongue as yet another distraction.

"What did the syllabus say? I don't know if we need to read too far on 'polymers'," you say, having going through an entire afternoon without considering this once, but as you curl your fingers and take an honest crack at cramming the remaining chapters into her head, the knowledge that no one else is getting her this wet - except for whoever she's got in her mind's eye at three AM - is enough to get you feeling a little dizzy.

-

It’s probably supposed to be weird, given that you’ve never gotten any of your other friends off spontaneously in the library, or there's the fact that you can't really avoid each other afterwards, how she shows up in a silk negligee when you're pouring coffee before sunrise to prep for another day and you have the opportunity to notice - yes, she has amazing taste in underwear, yes, you might not have really appreciated her chest and figure enough before - yes, fuck it. She catches you noticing that first time, after coming downstairs with nothing but one of her cropped t-shirts and her board shorts, and she smirks when she realizes you're still thinking about it that afternoon, when her foot grazes yours while you're both washing dishes, and she dries the plate in her hand with a slow swipe.

And it is weird, actually, to describe what’s going on between you in words. 

A few words, anyway, like a one-word label to describe what it was: friends or roommates-with-benefits, or - fuck buddies - god, it's even worse. Fuck buddies? Fuck friends? Something equally terrible and stupid that still makes sense, like something out of a shitty rom-com: it doesn't capture any of the rest of the myriad ways in which things can feel less or less friendly between two people.

So, friends was never, ever going to cut it. Roommates - although technically correct - is just this side of too clinical. And let's be clear: strangers don't wake up every morning together, walk to the same class, sit close together in the middle seats, secretly flick a strangers' skirt up in an empty lecture hall and get on their knees and work your mouth onto her pussy and watch the legs of the desks shake when her feet arch into the floor.

"The notes you've got are better than mine," is how Hyeju tries to put things, the next day and every time after that, standing in the doorframe, or at the foot of your bed and looking every bit the disheveled and hopeless mess you imagine she might spread out over the sheets of her own.

-

It gets complicated, which isn't really a surprise.

"You think your roommate is going to be home tonight?" is the question that comes up multiple times - from a revolving door of pretty names and faces. Hyeju has at least one opinion, if not more, on each of them.

"Tell Jinsoul I say hi," she says once, watching you get ready for a date, and you nearly bang your knee on the edge of the bathroom vanity. 

It's one of the more harmless comments she's offered.

Another, backhanded: "if you’re just looking for a blowjob everyday between lunch and our physics lab, let Hyunjin or Heejin or whatever-her-name-is know she's easily my favorite," Hyeju says on your way out one morning, still under her covers.

Or,

Hyeju's texted a simple "uh, Chuu? really??" when you mention, once, how much fun you've been having - and what kind, as you make a round of self-conscious and rambling phone calls the next day that land you with only one prospect for the night - but your roommate's also no longer being your roommate by the end of it, bouncing against your thighs in the bathtub and moaning something about please more and fuck or fucking make me cum; the details escape you a bit.

That's what friends are for, probably.

Still, in the same, bare-bones explanation, friends also aren't for falling asleep on you - or letting you hold her - or fucking you awake in the middle of the night. Friends aren't for pushing down your jeans when the early-morning dew settles on the back patio, or jerking you off in the seat beside yours with a sweatshirt over your lap when a group project is due later and you all should probably work on that and instead get yourselves off and leave the mess of what you're doing half-finished. Friends aren't, probably, for offering to watch you rub your palm up and down your cock the night before next semester's exams when you can barely sit in a single chair and you can't think about molecular biology or neurochemical transcriptions when your whole body aches to do the transcribing. (If you can catch that drift.)

The lists of who are and are not good enough for you goes on and on - the latter longer than the former.

So, there's Choerry, who according to Hyeju is 'straight up, a total slut'. Yeojin, who gets mistaken for your little sister enough times that Hyeju refuses to - in good faith - let you keep sleeping with her. Both Heejin and Gowon are apparently too pretty for you. "Kim-lip?" she asks, in the middle of peeling garlic, "is that one name or two?" And laughs into a bottle of beer, loud, while you're telling her to quit being nosey and watch her fingers with the damn knife.

"You have a problem."

"Why, because I asked a few simple questions? I think anyone would be a little curious with the -" she pauses to wave her fingers - "I'd be remiss to not be interested in the very drama that unfolds literally across the hall."

She waggles her eyebrows.

You look up at the ceiling. God save you, you think. "Hyeju."

("Seriously," Hyeju chimes in one evening, arms around you, and a mouthful of the dinner you'd cooked.

"You need better taste in girls. Don't waste time on anyone too dumb, or who drinks the milk straight from the carton, or doesn't wash her socks with the same load of laundry. Oh, and - no one who chews loudly. No one who can't tell you're going to cum. The worst is someone who doesn't know what you like, trust me on that. And remember the last rule: don't do anything with someone who eats at a really slow pace, it's incredibly depressing."

You rest your chin on her shoulder from the spot behind her. "Duly noted, oh Master of all Knowledge."

She sighs into your arm, but in the next moment, her voice gets a lot softer, her hips fidgeting slightly against you. "I just mean you're the kind of person people would want to sleep with again," she says, before turning to say your name and kiss you again and again as your bodies curl inward.

"I wonder what that means, Hyeju," you say.

"Fuck," Hyeju groans as you slide further into her, pushing her back into the sofa - hands on her shoulders, legs bent on her either side, "don't tease me like this.")

-

The first snowfall of the year is mild, a tiny dusting, nothing that sticks on the pavement in the alley or on the sidewalks - or the lintels - or in Hyeju's hair, but by evening, when the snow picks up and everything goes quiet, Hyeju has changed into flannels and wool socks in anticipation, curled up like a cat at one edge of the window ledge as the world begins to go white. It's enough that you even pull on a thicker sweatshirt, open up a book, and join her.

She turns toward you, quiet.

You've reached a point in the semester where this, the silence, doesn't unsettle you anymore. It's the space you fill up with time in-between, where you can see the contours of her body against the orange lamplight of the space heater, or watch her kick off the top half of the duvet at night as you fight over space in her bed and wonder about the bare skin peeking out from her shorts.

"Feeling bored?" She slides her foot a little closer to yours, almost imperceptibly. "Am I keeping you entertained enough?"

Her lips pull up at the corner. You chuckle.

"Oh, no."

She scoffs and puts her hands on her knees, pushes herself closer to the window sill and bumps her elbow into your shoulder. The bare skin of her neck and shoulders and face is getting a little redder as she cranes it forward. "Okay, if not, do you need someone to entertain you, maybe."

Your mouth twists, fighting a smile.

Hyeju is so close to you, you could kiss her really, really easily and not care how she'd feel about that. It's not a habit, not as often as it used to be, but every once and a while - she starts this game. Every once in a while, Hyeju just starts smiling like that, and leans into you like she's daring you to play along, hard round of chicken until it's clear what the two of you are doing with each other; the minutes pass by, one, then two, and then - maybe she pushes first, her leg on yours, or a kiss to your jaw or a palm on your back as she walks behind you - and then you'd turn and kiss her full on the mouth and pull at her clothes like nothing's holding you back.

She cocks a smile, and says, "why don't you go and call what's her name."

"Because."

You glance out at the cold, gray light outside. If you had a better understanding of any of the workings inside you, you could reach forward and tell her everything that's stopped you.

-

You're supposed to meet the girl-of-the-month at a New Year's party. Hyeju looks disgusted within the first ten seconds of the whole story.

"Heejin dumped you once, like, two months ago? For no reason."

"It wasn't a break-up. We talked about what we did wrong and we're doing better," you say, lifting one finger.

She glares, then, tilts her lips into this unamused purse that you can't take seriously at all when she starts walking back and forth across your living room, hands moving emphatically to the sides as she speaks, like she's in the process of unveiling a brilliant argument and is using both palms to guide your eyes toward the unquestionable logic. "God, you're the worst. You're just her easy fuck and you'll still answer her late night calls, really."

She leaves the rest unsaid - that she's just not that into you.

"I don't tell you which boys or girls you can call up," you try, putting on a boot. "If you'd like, I can. Name off the list, and make sure that the right name leaves my mouth this time."

Hyeju doesn't blush when you glance up, which is the surprising thing. No - her cheeks have grown a little more sullen, and she stares down at her socks in contemplation. You're in the middle of fastening up the lace and getting to your feet, waiting, wondering if Hyeju's going to continue this conversation, when Hyeju takes one small step forward.

And her hand goes out to touch your chin, thumb at your lip, fingers holding it in place - like you'll turn if she lets it go - the sharp shock of the sensation like a short circuit, before her knee comes between yours, and your body tingles, at the root and stem. "Hey," she says, eyes meeting yours. The edge of her nail flicking gently as she drags the curve of her thumb downward.

"Hyeju, please - I need to get going."

When you start walking toward your car, she calls out from the window. Something about how you better have the time of your life, fun for the two of you - it’s only fair.

(You feel, somewhere, a certain strange loss.)

"What, are you going to stay up and wait until I come back? Or am I interrupting your session for the night."

You can barely make it out, the smallest look passing over her face. "Maybe," she says, and then: "god, it's fucking cold."

-

New year's parties have this sort of quality of being simultaneously the most thrilling, exciting prospect on earth and the absolute worst fucking event in the history of the planet - depending on the venue, how egregious the racket is for a gin and tonic, the guests - oh, and the company.

Jinsoul and Choerry are both in attendance; in separate corners and in equal states of undress and intoxication, which seems fine by every present party, who are for the most part busy ogling one or the other in the full spirit of the New Year - as you would too, if the stars are aligned and Heejin hasn't already gone upstairs with half the guestlist, her arm wound with someone else's, as per her recent habit; if you haven't been tossed aside for any of the usual, less forgettable prospects and for something bigger, better and certainly much more enjoyable.

Which, if there were any way to track these things down with math, you'd already be reaching for your pen and notebook, as Hyeju would describe this sensation in a phrase she picked up from some podcast. Inevitable means necessary, or something.

"Good party," says Heejin, throwing back another drink.

"Yep. You said that," and you finish yours in one long draw, hissing through your teeth.

Heejin is a goddamn delight, of course, in all the simplest of ways. When she looks up at you - mouth pink, hair framing her face - she is so clearly and completely aware of what she is, and exactly what the world has in store for her, what it has set aside.

"Do you want to know what happened at the other New Year’s party we went to last year?"

"I - yeah. Hit me. Tell me all about (another date you were on) Heejin, that’s exactly what I’d love, let’s hear it."

She throws her head back and laughs, before starting into an overlong recount of her latest, greatest conquest, you on the outside. This is the thing - this is how a pretty face, with just a hint of a flirt, will make you feel for a beautiful, attractive, vivacious - absolutely shameless, raving sex-crazed lunatic of sorts who, apparently, loves to run around town and make a bunch of your closest friends fall in love and heartbroke-er, with every passing notion of her beauty, her charm - just the tilt of her chin, and some poor fucker is lost, absolutely lost.

 Even she knows it's a bad habit of hers. 

But who doesn't have a weakness? You've got plenty of your own - plenty, Heejin can admit - everyone does, in a way, and so Heejin, the other sloppy drunks milling about the party, and Choerry and Jinsoul all agree - someone like her just happens to have the best kind of weakness - so, so many of them, in fact:

"Can you believe how easily a few words get Jinsoul riled up? Or how it only takes a couple drinks for Choerry to pull up the hem of her skirt, not knowing the effect that'll have?"

And as for the last, and arguably worst kind -

"Hyeju, huh? What a great start to the New Year," is her final word. Heejin reaches across and downs your drink. Her expression turns just shy of grave, a pensive look. "Not your smartest idea, the living-together situation. Who in their right mind would put themselves in such a mess?"

"Thanks for the great advice." You wave her off, irritated.

There's another laugh before Heejin leans her face onto the table.

"Though maybe she's onto something, now that I think of it. Who needs anyone for the New Year?" and it's almost convincing the way her mouth, lined up with the rim of the glass, smirks when she drinks. "Mm. All a matter of taste."

-

The snow is halfway up your calves when you realize you need to find a cab at 11:30 PM on New Year's Eve. (Which, categorically, is the worst time to need to find a cab on New Year’s Eve.)

Or just:

11:36 PM and the nearest bus stop is too far away.

11:41 and the temperature feels like its dropped by fifteen degrees, like you should start wondering what hypothermia symptoms look like and what signs to look out for in yourself, your future wife and your children. You try not to think about why, but you get your phone out and immediately call Hyeju, so you're not sure what you think you're denying.

"No party?" she asks. Her voice is distant and sleep-ridden, but Hyeju's quick to pick up, like always.

"It sucked, I'm trying to find a way home early. Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year." There's a long pause, filled in by the squeak of snow beneath your boots. "Get a kiss?"

"Uh, not yet. In the market, I guess."

Hyeju's low hum isn't reassuring, either. "Well, you're kind of missing your window. Bad time to start looking."

"Says you, and here you are - still up for someone to spend the night with. Look at you," you respond, all this snark in your voice that she clearly hears. There's a long sigh.

"Actually," and Hyeju, much to the confusion of you and possibly the whole world, doesn't respond, and for a few seconds, the line goes completely silent, leaving you hanging.

She breathes once and comes out of her sleep with a yawn.

"I actually," she begins. There's a lot less preamble this time - this tone - and when she speaks again it comes through not nearly as sleepy, "was sorta wondering. Are you on your way home?"

"If I don't freeze to death, yeah."

"Yeah - no, yeah," and that's it. That's the sum total of what makes any difference between where you were a moment ago, and where you are right now, head spinning, fingers buzzing. Hyeju waits and there's the wind on the line, snow settling on your hat and in the corners of your face.

"I - sorry. I probably woke you up. Are you expecting someone else," you say, very small. Your foot drags behind the other. The cars whizz by you faster, passing.

"Hm. You're the only one, I guess," and after that - just static and the muffled sounds of her footsteps on creaky floorboards - or the tick of her ceiling fan? You can't make heads or tails of the rest of the background noise. All those words she said.

You bite your tongue to stop whatever curse words start pouring out from the jumble and cross streets, or the pedestrian underpass; snow gets stuck in your lashes and burns, but your chest is like a molten furnace. You consider telling her right there on the line, everything you're feeling - so hot, it feels like fire, Hyeju, I'm not used to getting heated and desperate and impatient - that even if you're not here now - just imagining your face - the sound of your breathing, it feels like I'm on the cusp.

"Yeah. Sure - good - okay, Hyeju."

"I guess, see you soon?"

"In a bit."

(It takes 33 minutes, trudging through cold and wet. It's all very dramatic, you think, and there's no one there to even watch you suffer for it, or - though you try not to think about that particular line - really, no one at all.)

-

You hear the way your key grinds in the lock - it's been like this, jammed since summer, when you pushed the front door in late at night a little too hard and something came undone and made a sound like a small stone tumbling down the world's deepest well. The hinge squeaks, and there's ice on the stoop, on the doormat, on every nook and corner you can see, all the way up your neck.

And your face, too. You shake off your hat, undo the buttons on your jacket, and pull off your boots before hanging them and all the layers to dry.

You can make out the outline of her profile at the edge of the door frame, right in the kitchen - barefoot, hip pressed against the island, pajamas - the dim lights illuminating the shadow of her head, hair over her face -

- but you don't pause. The next layer. There's nothing left to say. You're too cold for excuses, too smart to use the same ones you'd been taught, like: this is a normal, acceptable circumstance; everything, anything, will be perfectly normal if the two of us act as though that's the case; pretend we're both acting within the norms of reason, within our senses and logical thinking and I won't make myself go out in the cold a second more - won't stand for more than five minutes with your eyes looking like they're waiting.

So you move instead toward the kitchen, where the heating is better and she's already pouring coffee. There's a heat radiating out of the oven, and it smells sweet in there, like cinnamon and warm butter, and you wish you weren't still shaking, blood barely thawed, but there it is - her face, watching you - eyes gleaming as you wrap your hands around a mug, steam rising up - a shiver running up your arms; her knees skirting yours when she takes one step back and there's the cabinet door shut, then open again, and then a palm on your back.

Hyeju presses a cup of the fresh coffee, now warm enough to drink, to your chest, and says, softly. "What the fuck happened out there?"

She starts reaching out to wipe the frost and slush from your face. You let her hand hold you still, eyes wide.

"Oh you know," and her palm stays, even though it's obviously - suddenly - gotten warmer, and wetter too, and the longer she stands there and lets her fingers warm the pale bones of your cheeks, her wrist, the base of your forehead and ears, the more expectant the look on her face grows. "The usual."

Her eyes go as narrow as they ever can. For just a moment. "You're gonna die a slow, pathetic death someday, just for the record."

"Don't forget how this starts," you try, and feel your neck go warm, throat and breath tight. And not even when her shoulders shift, her mouth going smug - just looking at you.

“I mean, don’t you think,” Hyeju says, wagging a finger at you, “that when you suffer through a bad date, the world ought to owe you something?”

"Like what?" you ask.

"Better taste in women - maybe more orgasms; I dunno, a blowjob?" She shrugs. "The general idea is just that someone gets to cum."

You nearly choke on the air in front of you. "Jesus, Hyeju, warn a guy."

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Hyeju laughs. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Being able to kiss someone you actually, you know, might love you back, and at the same time. Imagine not hooking-up just to forget a shitty day. Sounds wild, right?"

"Utterly deranged."

"So wild."

When Hyeju sighs and gives a long, nonchalant hum, leaning her body closer, pressing up until her waist hits the cabinet top and you're pressed together chest-to-chest, she looks at you and her hips settle, the heel of her foot reaching around your calf.

There's that tingle. Again and again. You're not even trying to not think about what it might mean.

But then, you start, silently and unconsciously, trying to answer the question: why don't you, maybe. Why don't you, actually - Hyeju kisses you, pulls on the loop of your jeans and lets your lips brush the corners of hers and pulls away, suddenly, mumbling and head-turning. And just as abruptly, your nose buries in the space between her neck and her shoulder, where it's all warm. And when she puts her palms on your hips and squeezes and twists her knuckles into the fabric there, it seems she wants your hands up her shirt and under the small of her back.

And her hands - they're fidgety tonight, fingers curled up to keep their nails and the chill away, moving lower - one on your ass, while the other comes forward and begins rubbing circles, a handful of times - enough so you're letting a deep, low breath escape into the space just above her collar, your knee working its way between hers.

"That," Hyeju breathes, lips at your ear, hand reaching down to trace the hard curve of your cock pressing in the spot right between you, and there's that small rush again, familiar now, like you've caught a rhythm and she wants to feel it in its fullness: "is how you can make it up to me. For making me stay up. Worrying about you, god knows why. Waiting."

You're still half-frozen in a way, slowly thawing. "Hyeju, I've been trudging through the consequences of my actions this entire night. What am I about to suffer through now?"

"It's no consequence, honestly."

You squint.

"Just an idea, but," she breathes again; your bodies getting closer, and looking up at you, she grins and reaches down to touch the very root of you, her fingers drumming. You make a sound, and at that she says, her voice coming out thick, low:

"Want me to get you off?"

She squeezes again for good measure, just to be clear. Just a slight curl of fingers that's enough to send a flash of heat and the transient thought: why, why, why is she always wearing those fucking shorts, even in the winter?

Your blood thrums through the pulse at the end of your cock. You shake.

"Alright," is the response you let out.

And at that, Hyeju takes your wrist and leads you upstairs.

"There's that look. Don't worry. We'll find a way," is all she says as your feet walk forward, up step-by-step and higher and further up to her room. "After all, isn't that what we've always done?"

"It's usually whatever will make me stop talking."

Hyeju puts her chin on your shoulder. Her eyes follow the lines and shapes in the patterns of wallpaper as you turn onto her side of the apartment, and even through the wall and behind the doorway, her arm still around you, she pulls at your chin until your faces turn and you both can share each other's heat.

"Who, you and your awful habit of talking out-loud in your head while you work through equations?" and she brings her lips to yours, close and warm.

"Hey. Fuck you," and your voice breaks into an odd, low laughter when she kisses you harder.

"Yeah, I know," she whispers as her hand dives past the band of your boxers, palm sliding easily until she's gripping you fully and letting her fingers rub. She holds you there, in her room, her arm looped through yours, another arm resting at your belly.

And she stops there. She stays like that: holding your gaze.

"Look, Hyeju," you say, unable to not, though this can hardly count for anything; this, what you're about to admit, is nothing new. You swallow. "The thing is - you shouldn't."

"Don't want me to touch you?" she says, finger to your lips.

"Well, that's different. Maybe. Is there - maybe it's not the best thing to ask you right now."

Hyeju considers for a brief moment and tuts under her breath. "Can you at least do me the decency of waiting until I'm done wringing you dry before you say shit like that."

And she moves then, toward the bed.

So:

No. Yes. Maybe. Who knows, you tell yourself. Maybe, but only because you'll do anything if it makes you feel less sick, like a creature standing over its own skeleton - an abandoned shell; a relic, something to be feared and disgusted, as you let her go between your thighs, kneel beside the bed.

"I mean - since when - have you felt," is just as far as you're allowed to go before Hyeju presses her nose into you and pulls you out of the thin, cold fabric - palm, thumb, all those slender fingers swiping over your head - and now there's just the smell of her room and the shock, the buzz that runs down your spine and settles somewhere, somewhere inside the small and desperate movement of your hips and the tension building just below.

And god, fuck, Hyeju’s lips.

These soft, wet, pouty fucking things that could suck you straight off if you were feeling any less stupid or inexperienced or sentimental - if she wasn't solely intent on teasing it out of you first; a slow drag of the tongue up the underside; the tip of it poking, tracing the rim, like she's figured you out, just where to lead you. She's ready to smoke you out - always - until you're not taking in a breath every ten seconds but starting to close your eyes to the overwhelming, needling pleasure, too sharp, the way she knows you like best.

"Now you're finally - mm - starting to sound hot," and that smirk comes back to the corner of her mouth, teasing the sensitive belly of your cock and tracing her tongue everywhere. "With the voice and -"

You're losing track, her thumb and fingers circling the whole length of you - just, one after the other - mouth a hair-breadth away, her breath hovering like a promise.

"- that face."

"Don't, fucking tease me-"

The sound of your cock going in is like nothing else.

Wet and filthy in all the right ways.

Just the suction in her throat has your eyes nearly roll back into your head - Hyeju's gaze calmly watching the terrible sort of helplessness that washes over you like this: her lips wrapped around, bobbing - her hair falling into the wet mess of her mouth and sticking there. Hyeju likes being a little sloppy, likes feeling that spark run up the length of her tongue when she slides. It's the wet and the heat that gives everything away.

"I don't have much of a choice -" her jaw and chin is smudged when she pulls back off of your cock, mouth glossy and glistening, "and honestly, wouldn't it be a better use of our time, or my talents if I actually do that thing?"

“Which is?”

She looks up for a bit and sighs, the flush blooming pink to the tip of her ears and into the rounds of her cheeks and all across her neck. "Since, as far as I can see, what you really like - is, oh I'm just spit-balling here," and she stops just to bite her tongue and look into your eyes, "it's letting the girls take care of you? Isn't that right?"

You want to tell her, no, not always, that it's not as though you enjoy giving control completely - that that would be completely and unarguably, the opposite of true -

That most of the time you love it when the person you're with is a little bossy, a little crazy for you. You know some guys really get off on a strong woman and maybe, maybe if a girl's pretty and dressed up, and - sure - a little wet, but that's hardly -

“You know I’m right,” she says, a flicker of mischief skittering across her features. “These walls are paper thin.”

You want to tell her, perhaps remind her, that she likes someone in charge just as much as you do - to be taken care of, told what to do - to have a hand curled up around her throat and the other at her tits while a guy fucks her the right way and takes the reigns when she needs. So who are you, when it comes to knowing her better? And who, really, are you fooling?

But before you can get any words in: Hyeju dips, lips parting where the head of your cock throbs, and then disappears; and the hot wet warmth, enveloping all around your shaft and back; the curve of her throat contracting.

You moan - a lot, and louder this time - into the whole feeling. The way her fingers work the distance from the base, twisting and twisting and twisting into the pout of her lips; or how the sound is like nothing - a whimpering, messy sound - almost a whine and definitely not a slurp as your cock sinks further and further, until it's all one big, heavy throb.

And it's like Hyeju can read your thoughts, the visual you have of her lips screwed tight around your shaft - cum leaking from the corners, and her eyes scrunched up tight, as she looks up to watch your face unravel - this perfect image of her taking you, all of you, swallowing each drop as your hips start rutting up into her and - and - and.

Or else she gets impatient, because then Hyeju gives one long pull off the tip of your cock - saliva mixed in the precum there, and that shiny string of fluid hanging, caught in the middle between your bodies - a disgusting and irresistible sight. Her jaw slack, lips swollen and full, and her mouth gone wide open, wanting.

"Fuck - that's good. Don't stop," you start to whimper, desperate, at the sight, the smell. Her hot breath coming quick over the red wanting wetness left behind - then touched by the cold air - fuck -

She slaps your cock to the corner of her lips as she speaks.

"Can you believe what's going on down here?"

"God, can you -"

"And to think most guys wanna jump straight in. That or fuck a load out between my tits."

"Hyeju, shit, come on -"

She kisses the soft tip, right where it’s most sensitive, rolls it along her lip. Then, back down the length of your shaft where she's generous with her mouth inch after inch - lapping, licking, laving - and Hyeju begins working her way down and downward, nestling in at the edge of the bed and between your thighs.

Your eyes blow up the first time she dips low enough to put your balls in her mouth. 

“Mmhm,” she hums.

It’s killing you and she knows it; it’s killing you and she can feel the pre-cum leaking from your slit - the thumb she has moored there, keeping everything right where she wants it, running circles up the length with such little intention - she could bring you to the end just like this. 

"Am I supposed to believe it?” she asks out from beneath the shadow of your cock, looking up at you with her eyes all wide and brilliant - pupils dark as sin. “That not a single one of those girls ever did you proper?"

You curse under your breath. Hyeju seems amused, at least, like she can't help but love doing that to you, which is almost worse and honestly the sexiest thing a girl can be. You groan - wanton, raw and desperate and feeling exactly what she wants you to feel when her nails drag along the dip of your hip bones.

"Did they not leave you fucked-up the right way?"

Her wrist flicks out these twists and turns, making your spine bend to her control. Like even when you're sure to be bundling her hair in your fingers and fucking the whole length of your cock down her throat, all of this is the worst kind of power-trip for her - not the other way around.

Her tongue runs through the tangle of your balls, slowly, lasciviously, as though the plan is to memorize and map every detail. 

And the worst part is, how much it's making you desperate for the warmth of her mouth - where she'll run her tongue up and down and over and around and inside - before sucking you off nice and slow.

"Or maybe," she laughs; another flick to the top and then suddenly her hand goes faster and the fist pumping the rest of you tightens. "They left you so needy you're resorting to having the bestie suck you off so that you won't be desperate the next time you date. Oh my god-" 

Hyeju breaks into this fit of laughter, and you're nearly cross-eyed at the feeling of your entire existence - not just your cock - so wholly held within her mercy, and her pity, and you're breathing so shallow now you'd think this is the real reason people have died and will die - this exact moment where you're choking and stuttering at the edges, so very close to cumming and going absolutely bonkers with how good Hyeju is with her hands, her tongue, her mouth - everything - how much she's wrecking you, and your jaw drops, wide open, her name dripping like molasses off your lower lip.

"Are you going to cum?" she asks, curiously. All as if she can't see you nodding, collapsing under pressure, and then and there: "should we make it official?"

Her nose tickles the seam of your balls. And your toes begin to curl and uncurl - all this anticipatory, coiling pleasure burning from her throat, shooting from the pit of your stomach; the tightening spiral, twinging and stretching every nerve - as her lips enclose around the end of your cock, softly.

And oh, just excruciatingly slowly.

You watch the irresistible shape of her mouth travel down until her throat feels so incredibly, beautifully, and unbelievably tight, and then, just like that - Hyeju starts fucking herself onto you; pushing forward and down the full, rigid length of you, hard and fast - each time hitting deeper inside her - all that sticky, messy, wet squelching.

"Unh-unh, yeah. Unh. Mm-!" you say, or moan, or some animal version of that, maybe, it’s incoherent.

But regardless:

It's messy and your hands scramble for purchase in the sheets of her bed when you feel that snap, the tightening of a trigger; when your balls roll up and it builds, and builds, and it comes faster - harder and -

"Hyeju," you pant, and it sounds so, so filthy. "I'm gonna cum, if you - gonna cum-"

Hyeju pulls you free from her lips, quite possibly at the most final of final moments, to rub the base up and down, just right, between her fingers. Your cock is resting right on her cheek when it all happens. When she squeezes her fingers around your balls just enough to hear you wheeze and make a sound no sane man should have the right to. And fuck, you're cumming all over her face - or just one side of it - which is already just -

Okay, fuck.

She makes a startled sound and her fist closes tightly around your shaft when you pump another fresh load of white up onto her eyebrow.

"I'm, ah-shit," your mouth moves faster than the blood in your veins - and now the shame - oh god, the humiliation, it's pulsing right behind you. "Hyeju," you apologize.

Only, Hyeju has no interest in any of it. She doesn't seem offended or disappointed in proportion to how you're ruining her pretty face: "no, just do it, cum wherever you fucking like."

Which isn't what you're expecting at all, because Hyeju makes no effort to close her lips, let alone avoid any of it; nor is she making a fuss about the sticky mess in her hair, her mouth, nor as another stream of cum throbs from your cock, all tangled up in the long dark eyelashes that sweep down across her cheek.

It’s fucking filthy: you're cumming all over her and she's just kneeling there, telling you, "good boy."

See, she pushes through it, languidly - all those filthy sounds, and those watery little tears gathering at the edge of her eye and all of that, mixing up together until you're rolling your head back with your orgasm, shuddering, feeling weak - drained dry -

Except,

Hyeju's pushing a finger to your chest, kneeling up tall from the side of the bed. She turns her body toward the center of the bed and wipes a bit of the cum on her knuckles into the sheets. Here you feel like you've done something terrible or at least regrettable, like that last round at the bar when you have a test the next morning; a dick move, all of the sort that requires apology.

"You gotta give me a minute, if you're thinking about hopping on."

"Hmm. Sounds like a lot to ask."

"Wait," you grab her arm. Hyeju grins and there's nothing stopping the shake of your knees now, that weakness between your thighs: "let me get you a drink."

"Or."

"Or?"

Her tongue peeks out, running along her upper lip. Her eyes drop again, hands dipping below, beneath the hem of her shorts and oh. She slips a hand past her bra. The whole outline of it. And you -

"Mm, I could show you what that actually means." She lowers her chest, her breasts, and a lot of skin to the mattress while keeping your cock firmly in her hands. "That look tells me you wanna stick around a bit. Stay up past New Year’s, you know?"

You're almost unable to parse her words, there is so much to look at: the jutting curve of her chest, cleavage pressing into the mattress as her body settles between your knees. A soft chuckle; a sigh: "you are seriously the best lay, no-one else can get hard the minute after they just fucking exploded all over me-"

"Fuck, watch it," you hiss, because there's oversensitivity - and then there's Hyeju's mouth on the line of your cock, polishing you clean.

And it’s not that she isn’t trying to prove a point. Or that she's not trying to tease - that's an inherent quality of her character: a naturally dominant position with a high appetite for your lust. That much, Hyeju gets from you, whether you've got your head down between her thighs or the other way, too, so that her neck is arched around and her ass pushed up high in the air, legs open, and if she had any idea you would spend the next twenty minutes or more just going down on her, licking into her creaming cunt while two fingers work over her aching clit, then really, Hyeju would only encourage it - maybe get on top, force you to gag - and so you don't know where it comes from - how and why you want nothing more than to drive your fingers inside her and work her until she's a wet, squelching mess, not when this was always Hyeju's role of being the aggressor; and yes, sure, even the aggressed.

Surely not because you came so hard, still somewhat shivering with the remnants of a rather abrupt, painful, sudden and all-consuming orgasm.

"We're not doing anything else," she says, lips pulled up into a smirk right at the crown of your cockhead. But before you can respond she pushes a hot open kiss, and goes lower. She presses the flat of her tongue to the seam, just below the head. Licks a line right up to the tip and finishes with a tender flick that sends you fisting the bedspread in your fingers and leaning back as your mind begins to disintegrate -

"I'm not going to ride you yet, or going to get my hips in your hands so you can fuck my pussy real hard until I cry and pass out. Nothing of that sort is gonna happen." She licks one long drag of her tongue. Then, the other way. "I want to make this very clear: this isn't some huge favor - and if you want it - want it so bad, you can stay there and I'm going to do everything for you. We will get there - together," and with her voice shaking as she brings the wet, glistening skin of your cock just inside her mouth, she looks up. "We'll get each other off, just like this," and it's the deep, dark, throated moan that makes your thighs and all the nerves in between stiffen and buck when she swallows you again.

Hyeju's hands tug, pull her whole body closer still as it slowly bends, curves - her ass raised, her stomach lying on the bed. Her mouth takes you another few inches, until the tip of her nose is barely visible, but when she pauses to lick the cum still left over - the cum that's starting to leak out again - to breathe through it, then squeeze her palm and bob her mouth down, take another inch, until the sides are stuffed and emptying out again, that's when she finally has something to say: "got anything left? I'm a little starved."

"I. Christ, yes-" you whine, which doesn't help your case at all: the image, the image of you lying flat - back with Hyeju's head tucked between your knees, her hand pulling out your cock.

Sloppy, slimy-wet.

She presses an innocent, not-at-all-innocent kiss right to your tip, puckering - 

"You know what I did learn in that genetics class?" she muses, tongue flicking over her lips. Hyeju's about ready for a second helping - you're losing it. "When I first saw that DNA diagram - the double helix and all those little base pairs, and everything - it made me think of your cock. Your cock and me. Specifically our DNA. Did you know-"

She presses her palm over the head and rolls it - teases and strokes her palm - her knuckles - her fist - the whole nine. "When I hold your big fucking cock, mm, and just get it right - up in here, rubbing all along my walls - so deep, it gets me in my fucking ribs, makes me choke like I never been choked before, ah-mm," and it's this thought sliding toward the front of your mind, this perfect picture: Hyeju, getting fucked hard and open and stuffed full and stuffed good and stupid; you’ve got more than a few inches on her, can make her feel small and delicate; you know how to do her right.

But here you have Hyeju stroking the shaft - holding her hand tightly up near the head, rolling and twisting and sliding down and pushing her whole body right into the side of your legs: the soft, solid length, warm flesh and curves everywhere pressing into you.

You sit back, and just watch Hyeju with her eyes cool and composed, like half of her fucking face isn't streaked with your cum, mouth wrapped and looking fucking satisfied to be a total, gorgeous mess. She makes a dramatic display of kissing the tip again, just before telling you words you probably dreamt up at some point - either sleep deprived, or, during three AM jackoff, fantasizing. "Sometimes, just from riding your cock, I can't sit up straight."

"Fuck," and you feel your whole body run rigid, because apparently that's something you’ve been aching to hear.

You're covering her mouth again. White streaking onto her lips - where she's catching it in the well beneath her tongue and letting it spill out of the corner of her mouth. Into the crook of your thumb, which catches a drip here and there and rubs it down the length - down the curve - and pushes it back between Hyeju's pert little pout.

"Doesn't count, mister, just more pre-cum," she says, all with the audacity of a wink and smile; her words are a little garbled around the head of your cock between her teeth. And when you nod and realize just how painfully your jaw hurts, your throat becomes tight and raw, a knot pulling the underside from the center. Hyeju slides her lips lower, lower down, to the hilt and stays there, just like that - one hand holding down the flat of your belly to keep your hips still, her chin hanging - bobbing-as she feels every pulse, every twitching shift. You curl one hand around the side of her face, over the sharp edge of her jaw; rub a thumb into the delicate skin of her throat.

She shifts. You start to tell her what you like: how hot the rush comes when a girl puts her tongue against the slit at the very tip, and licks at the precum in nice, quick circles, soft and fluttering. And how her fingers shouldn't hesitate either, Hyeju's not even struggling to give it to you - god - just giving and -

She jerks her head up, swallowing down her next breath like it's one of her last. "I'm serious, if you're going to fuck a hole, start with my mouth - we can move onto everything else after."

"You're ridiculous -"

She meets her lips to your head, kissing once. Again. Kissing every inch, letting her mouth wrap around and then just - staying, just - staying like that and humming, with you, enjoying the fullness, the smell of you, the taste, the shape, just the weight and size and you.

There is spit fucking everywhere.

And if it's not clear what you're supposed to be doing - her fingers weave through yours, squeezing hard at the wrist and you can imagine: pulling her forward by her hair and holding her down while she chokes on your cock. "Fuck, Hyeju," you say, and your voice comes out way shakier than you'd like, "when, how did it get like this, huh? You always - always did, shit, always want your mouth filled."

"Never figured you to be someone who'd get turned on watching their friend sucking their cock like this."

"Doesn't everybody love the sight of their cock in a pretty girl's mouth?

"You were really convinced they weren't lining up behind you? Or anyone in the queue who can't keep their eyes off of this thing. Tell me, and try not to lie, try not to bullshit this one out: how many girls have you come home and fucked and creamed their brains out - then asked for the sloppiest, most -"

"Honestly."

"- Filthiest, nasty, ball-busting, gut-wrenching blowjob ever to make them think - to make them really start wondering what the hell it was you did - like it's gotta be something that leaves them so ruined, they can't ever not compare - can't ever not compare this moment, right here. Ever. When you give them the hardest fucking of their life, compared to any other guy - can't not, because no-one, literally no-one's cock can fuck like you do-"

"Fuck-"

"Any harder. Come on, seriously, tell me it isn't true. Come on."

Her voice - her fucking words, the tone she uses and how her words roll: honey-warm and soaking with sweet, thick degradation - she talks like sex, and that's exactly what gets you harder, like it’s something else; like it’s nothing, like it’s less, so much worse - you feel this guilty-dirty heat pool at your tailbone and push down the hard press of you throbbing all the way to her nose. And Hyeju smiles as much as she's capable around the fat, round stretch, humming around the warm taste of you, before opening wide and sinking her throat on it.

There's nothing like it.

You've got two fists in her hair; she's so tight and wet around every god-damn inch. Her cheeks flush - hot to the touch; her tongue laving in slow, long drags, slicking your shaft nice and warm until you're balls-deep and pushing her further: a small shift to the hips, a push here, a harder, faster pull, and Hyeju's feet behind her go curling like an angry cat, wanting the tug.

A long, satisfied breath slips from the hollows of her throat.

There are tears threatening, thickening her lashes, and though she doesn't choke - you're just afraid. Every sound that she pulls out, her eyes blinking up to you as if it's only natural to love getting used by her friend's cock, like the very premise of it - swallowing down the very shape of you, dragged over her tongue and brushing cum into the back of her throat - is something she can’t go without.

But this is nothing compared to the noises from where her lips are pressed tight around you, where you're hearing and even feeling:

That gluck, gluck - where her chest spasms just the slightest when her nose gets nuzzled right into your belly and you remember how much she likes to hear you talk dirty, how fucking wet it gets her. The heavy, deep breaths, gasps; the strangled moans when your hips just buck - the heat and the thrill, and this is better than every other time because there's just something in this moment -

"I'm not gonna come again, not like this. Not in your mouth. You can’t-"

But Hyeju refuses to hear a word; just pumps your shaft faster, feeling it's familiar hardness grow and throb and ache and retch, all her effort paying off: you're slick with precum and spit, hard and straining, the whole shaft begging for release - all because of her. And Hyeju won't stop, she pushes her cheek onto your thigh and then taps a hand there to pull your hips. The motion drives your cock further still inside her. Until it’s bathed in her spit, your cum, all this mess.

Until it's reaching, choking her, and the muffled sounds she's making are filthy and wet and so incredulously hot.

But god. Hyeju has something of a temper and a habit, too: with those big beautiful eyes and the perfect plump of her pouting lips, her tits swelling up around, when your grip slips on her shoulder, and her mouth goes tighter - how the pleasure begins to make you unbearably cruel and you push her away from you, only for a second -

She doesn't wait or seem to care; Hyeju follows the cock with her whole head and whimpers so hotly in her throat when it plops right back on her tongue. "That's more - more like - fuck, oh, there we go," her nose and fingers prodding.

You groan through a high, strangled whimper, a helpless shiver that turns into an uncontrollable roll of the hips - you can't believe it: she's already so thoroughly debauched and defaced; just fucking painted with it. Your cum dripping off her chin and rolling down her neck.

"Fuck - gonna make me - ah, Jesus -"

When Hyeju seems to have reached her fill, the feeling, you're cumming - pumping the length of your shaft. And the moment she feels you twitch and throb and that first hot spill lands in the bend of her mouth, it's as if she understands and holds herself tight - her legs going stock-still while your eyes blow up behind her, your cock spewing another and then another thick, milky load into her mouth, over her tongue: all along the topography of her throat - sticky cum landing in every ridge and valley -

Hyeju catches as much as she can. What little she can. You cum and pump and gush so much that when you're finally finished - done - every last drop spent and given - your cock throbs soft between her fingers; her chin is a complete and utter mess and her chest heaves with the sound of her catching her own breath. Hyeju groans softly and just swishes the load around in her mouth for a bit as if wanting to remember its feel and weight before lifting her eyes to look into yours. You can just barely see the color.

"Jesus, Hyeju-"

The entire bit of it, slick and shining-wet. With a small moan, a sound from the back of her throat: one swallow and the cum is gone, disappeared, vanished. She smiles like she didn't just ruin your entire goddamn life and, with her body limp and exhausted beside you - her gentle hand rubbing a flat stroke over your thigh before yours slips up to meet her chin.

"You," you curse and roll your eyes, catching the mess at the edge of her jaw, the very little left in the corners of her lips. You feed the cum over her bottom lip - her chin, her throat - watching your friend: Hyeju's throat, bobbing. "Really didn't have to," you start, but you realize just how useless a point it is to make.

She's smiling and biting and showing you what's left between the tips of her canines. "Do you always do this to the people who suck you off?"

"That's an awful habit. A pretty girl's lips aren't meant to get that messy," you reply.

"Oh." She frowns. "Well, I do a lot of things I shouldn't."

"God, seriously," and you think there's no greater hell, no sweeter pain than whatever's lingering in these little aftershocks - this fizzling and dying sort of pain, where the body is buzzed with all you're aching for. It's impossible to stop this train of thoughts, is the fucking feeling of her-

But just then, Hyeju rises to her knees, a new spark in her eyes, as she grabs ahold of your wrist and tugs you off the sheets, a few inches closer.

"And you," she purrs as she drags the palm of your hand across her neck and collarbone, collecting what remains and making the perfect image, "well - you are going to help clean me up, like you said before." She sits tall; the arch of her spine is pronounced - her back, so, very, slightly tapering, to where your hand slips right off the last of it: the wide flare of her hips. "Now isn't that the gentleman's thing to do?" she asks.

"Of course." You sigh, resigned and in desperate need of water. "Of course," you add and smirk a little and slip your hand lower, toward where her skin is getting hot, and her body, "let's get you clean."

"Mm." She's already grinning. "You know what wasn't in those textbooks?"

"Oh, I can only guess." You bite your cheek and start to lower yourself back. "Give it a try."

Hyeju drags you by the wrist toward the hall, the bathroom, ostensibly the shower -

"There's no way in hell you don't want to put a baby in me, like, right fucking now."

"Is that what we're doing?"

Hyeju makes a face like you're stupid - she might've grabbed a towel on the way out. She wipes her chin a little while walking - the corner of her mouth where, well - where it looks like a little dribble has somehow remained. "No. But you’re going to fuck me like it is."

-

(There's got so much on her mind. 

The door of the shower rattling in its frame as she struggles standing up against it. Getting fucked so fast and full, the feeling of both your hands cupped beneath the weight of her breasts. It's not the fact of where you are and your situation, per say - more about the immediate, the imperative nature. About fucking you. She was already feeling herself like, leaking the moment the door shut, so all that waiting, all that patience, really - and it's what drove her insane when you were, well: like that, after she put her mouth around your cock, made a right and proper mess of herself, and sucked you off.

Though there's less on her mind, clearly, when she cums all over your cock.

She's crying with her tits up onto the glass, your palm holding her ribs. Your cum-slick cock working itself hard again as it slips, back and forth, as you're fucking her open, spread apart. It's your finger in her asshole. That's what's on her mind then. How the press of your knuckle lights her entire fucking spine on fire - how the other hand finds her clit in all this, too, when you're no longer supporting the both of you but rather Hyeju is folding on her bent knee and trusting, on shaking and shivering, raw nerves, that you're not going to collapse.

"Fucking. God, please-"

There's the harsh slap of flesh - skin on wet skin, your palms against the sides of her ass and the curve of the breast. But otherwise - it's you, sighing - soft and gentle, like you can't get over the feel of her. "Hyeju, oh-fucking, god, fucking," is what you're saying, and it doesn't end up really mattering which one of you came last because she can feel you twitching, squelching in and out with how badly you're wanting to explode inside, but also you can feel her cunt absolutely begging, this fucking fluttering and clamping down on every thrust and the moment you manage to grind this angle she loses her ability to speak properly because you're not just, like - fucking her-

Just, absolutely, completely pounding her pussy, stretching her insides, dragging and sliding along the walls; each rough rub and thrust makes her knees quiver until her body is trembling and falling. But mostly her voice, the sharp gasp that shakes into her, how her nails are scraping the walls of the shower stall and she's saying - telling, crying and asking and wondering and pleading - just utterly astounded:

"Amazing," she huffs, breathes coming out cloudy and true onto the pane of glass, "you - it’s, fucking amazing.")

-

“And I am… Ironman.”

Your eyes flicker awake, hazy, as Tony Stark snaps his fingers, killing himself alongside Thanos’ army in the process.

The TV's long been running on background noise, though not as ambient. Its characters now bickering between the rubble and ruins and being picked up for the end credits. In the dark of the screen, you see Hyeju had nodded off and slumped over the side of your body. A new year means new beginning means resolutions and diets and gym routines -

Maybe no sooner than the sun can come up, apparently.

You lean over to grab your phone from the table: 4:14 A.M.

There's a lot of things you want to say, even more you want to hear, but your mind has begun to settle a bit - a lazy and dreamy thing that fills you with this sort of, tired kind of - not sad, or empty - no, of course not. That's hardly fitting; not after tonight. You want to wrap this in an idealistic sort of sentiment - maybe hold Hyeju close and let the hour carry you and the comfort be enough to forgive whatever there is to miss: like the fact, it's still really dark, so dark even outside. The moon reflecting off the sheet of snow on the street. And not even a distant dog barking, or car driving by or someone playing loud music in the early hours of the new year.

As the film drifts off into another set of commercials, you slip into an easy sleep that feels effortless. Your head drops, landing on the cushion by the arm of the couch, where Hyeju's hand begins to slip mindlessly across your belly, tickling your waist and causing you to slightly squirm - things are cooling down, but still a little agitated.

"Don't tell me you're waking me up, cause I just -"

She kisses the pulse at your throat and answers, mumbling half-words into the spot below your ear. "A kiss for a new year."

And maybe the world doesn't owe you anything at all.

Maybe it just gave you more than enough.

[nonranghaes]

heads up! babysitting adventures. food mentions.

you're making dinner when you start to hear something go down. vernon's sitting on the floor with your niece, who's very determined to take advantage of the fact that it's both friday and her parents aren't here.

"if you let me stay up until midnight," she raises a finger in the air. "i'll show you where mama hides the fruit snacks."

vernon gives a long hum, as if he's actually debating the deal. for a moment, you think maybe you should have brought seungkwan instead of your boyfriend. he doesn't need to sound so legit right now. "i dunno... i have a car. i could just go buy my own fruit snacks."

"but they're forbidden snacks." she puffs out her lil cheeks at him. "papa says that makes them better when he gives me some after mama said i shouldn't have anymore."

vernon's nodding along. "ah. the forbidden snacks. i get it." he lowers his voice into a stage whisper, as if you're not supposed to hear this secret, "they steal my snacks all the time."

your niece lets out the loudest gasp, already turned against you so easily. "they do?!" when you glance over, she's straight up glaring at you, and vernon's giggling and he gets her to turn around before you 'catch on.'

"they do." he gives them the most serious nod. "but i dunno... are they really that good to stay up past your bedtime?" when your niece gives him a equally serious nod, lips pressed together into the most serious face she can muster, vernon just crosses his arms. "okay. new deal... you've gotta give them your best puppy dog eyes," he nods toward you, "so that we can all go out for ice cream instead. you still gotta go to bed at ten, though."

immediately, her mind is blown. she never considered the fact that ice cream could be on the table with you two here. while the two continue to whisper, making a game plan, you already reach for your phone to get her parents' permission to spoil her more than you already do. with both her and vernon teaming up... there's no real way you can say no.

a few moments later, you feel a tug on your shirt and you turn to see your niece next to you. she looks back at vernon, who's half-hidden behind the edge of the counters, as if he's going to get away with something. he gestures for her to speak, and she does when she turns to you. "can we pleaaaaaase get ice cream after dinner?" she pauses. "i'll--i'll eat my veggies and everything! and uncle vernon will, too!" she points back at him. "he promised!"

you glance at him while you agree (with permission and the power of puppy dog eyes, you have no ability to say no) and vernon's shooting you a cocky grin. told you i'd have your back.

[aklaustaleteller]

@ghayda0 requested via submission: Hi, please ignore if you’re not taking requests. Klaus is out all day. Literally from morning to midnight and when he comes back, Y/N is very pissed at him and giving him the silent treatment. At first Klaus’s amused by her actions, thinking Y/N is just being bratty but when she starts tearing up, maybe mid argument, he sees that’s she’s genuinely hurt. Maybe it was their anniversary or her birthday and he forgot. Can be smutty if you want to be, I mean he has to make it up somehow ;)

Entirety of Eternity

Waiting and waiting for Klaus to return home, Y/n's grasp on reality soon slipped and she fell into a sad, sad slumber. But then Klaus finally comes back, and he doesn't know what he's done wrong -- and Y/n won't tell him. Until she does, shouting at him how the night clearly wasn't anything special to him. And now, all Klaus wants is to show her just how much she, and their relationship, truly mean to him.

Warnings - Smut and some mentions of blood. Word Count - 3.3k

Not super proud of the way I wrote this one, but I'm pretty certain that it isn't that bad (please tell me it isn't) And thank you for requesting this -- I hope you enjoy reading it!

Y/n was sat on one end of the dining table, her face resting in her quite sweaty palms as she waited for her ears to finally perk up at the sound of the front door to the mansion opening. But it was beginning to cross the two-hour mark and still, there was no sound.

Every once in a while, the sound of her earrings' tiny bells would chime in her ears as she'd change her position to get more comfortable. At least as comfortable as she could on a wooden chair.

A deep wine-red dress adorned her body, pooling on the ground around her feet as she sat. Delicate jewellery hung from her ears, her wrists and a dainty necklace rested just below her collarbone. Sighing defeatedly, she let her head lay atop her arms on the dining table, looking at the polished plates in front of her and then at the empty seat across from her.

Tonight was nothing special, at least not to Klaus considering the fact that he had yet to return home. But it was to her. After all, this was the day that he had turned into a hybrid himself, and then turned her into one as well – justifying it with the purpose that he just wanted to spend the rest of eternity with her.

This was just the fifth year, and already he was forgetting their anniversary.

Maybe this wasn't so special after all. But when you've got the entirety of eternity on your hands, surely you'd try and celebrate as many occasions as possible to keep things special and ...to keep their value.

The clock rang throughout the empty house, finally hitting one in the morning and he still wasn't standing across from her. And she was getting too close to doubting if he even will tonight.

And even if it wasn't so special to him, shouldn't he have listened to her when she'd so excitedly told him to return home early tonight as she'd have something special waiting for him? Wouldn't matter anymore because all the food that she'd cooked herself had gone cold, and the candles she'd set up had burned down to the wick.

The dust had begun to settle on the exposed crockery, the moon had hidden itself behind the clouds and her heart had begun wilting away inside her chest.

She didn't quite realise when her hold on reality slipped and she fell into a sad slumber, but she woke up to the feel of a hand on her arm and a soft voice coaxing her back to life.

"There you are, my darling," Klaus smiled, already kneeling beside her so he was face to face with her. "Why didn't you go to bed?"

Y/n looked at him with eyes that were screaming how could he have the guts, the audacity to ask her that and so callously pretend that he hadn't just come home past midnight despite her sweet request that went against his act.

But when her shouts fell on deaf ears, she simply turned the other way from where Klaus was sitting and stood up. "The dinner's gone cold... I'd suggest you warm it up before eating, it'd taste better," she told him as she walked up the stairs, her gaze empty but her blood heating up rapidly.

Klaus looked at her as she walked away, amusement filling him up to the brim at her antics. Yes, she'd asked him to return early but it was for no special occasion, and he'd gotten himself in a rather sticky situation, so why was she upset out of the blue?

He was even sure that she his reasoning in someone's red blood covering him from head to toe, beginning to dry up. And he wished that she'd clean him up like every other time, so he decided to eat first. Give her some time to change her clothes and get comfortable for the night before he could go over to her and ask her innocently to help him clean himself off.

So he sat and ate, his eyes closing every once in a while at the feeling of the home cooked meal filling him up with all the love he could digest.

Rinsing off his dishes, Klaus sped up the stairs and into the bedroom he shared with Y/n as her lover, a frown settling itself between his brows when he caught her sitting in front of the vanity, lost in some thought as she glared at a broken lipstick.

"What's wrong, my love?" Klaus asked her, concern lacing his voice as he walked over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders as he locked his eyes with hers in the mirror.

His frown only deepened further when she didn't reply and began removing her jewellery, looking at him with big eyes trembling with fury. He didn't move, not until she was getting up and moving towards the bed, which had him following her hot on her heels.

"C'mon, it's not the right time to be a brat, sweetheart," Klaus joked, chuckling to himself but stopped when she shot him a look sharp enough to make him flinch.

"Just tell me what's happened!" Klaus insisted, kneeling in front of her and holding her hand, ignoring the fact that she didn't weave her fingers through his' and pick his hand up to press a kiss on his knuckles like she usually did.

"Where were you?" She asked, forcing her voice to be at a bay.

"Well, some newbies truly thought that they could have my head on a sword for them to take home to their master,” he chuckled. “And their plan was quite impressive, dare I say,” shrugging he said, passing her a grin which, expectedly, wasn’t reciprocated. 

“I apologise for not coming home earlier,” he sighed. But he knew that she knew that he truly wasn’t, for he didn’t even yet realise the density of this grave mistake he had made. And when she continued with her silence, Klaus finally cracked. 

“It’d not as if tonight’s anything special!”

And right then, Y/n heard something crack inside her. Possibly her dead heart. 

“I know you wanted me to return early tonight and I’m sorry that I didn’t, I truly am!” He almost whined, trying to show her how unreasonable she was being as he started pacing the room. “But this has happened before and you’ve never been this upset, so just tell me what have I done wrong!” 

He felt quite embarrassed once he was done shouting due to her lack of response, and sighed once more before walking towards her.

“It was our anniversary,” she started, quickly glancing at the clock, “yesterday.”

Klaus stopped in midst of his way to her, his heart dropping in his stomach as he finally found himself at a loss of words. His mouth moved, but nothing came out except for some incoherent stutters. 

“Forget it. It was nothing special,” she gritted through her teeth, not wanting her anger to get the best of her but she could feel it slipping out of her grasp.

“Darling – I,” Klaus stuttered, looking at the floor, wishing it’d remind him how to speak. “I’m so sorry darling,” Klaus breathed, his gaze turning doe-eyed as the realisation set in. 

“No you’re not!” Y/n shouted, getting off the bed to walk towards him. “You are not sorry, Klaus. You clearly don’t care!”

Hot tears were lined up against her lower lashline, making it hard for her to see clearly.

“You were showing that last night meant nothing to you for so long and you even said it! It was no special occasion!” She yelled, her voice shaking as her brain debated whether she was trying to convince herself about that, or him. 

And the way she was talking about their anniversary in a way that it truly had passed and that it was the next day, was only breaking his heart worse. 

“Darling our anniversary means the world to me,” he desperately said. “I’d just carelessly forgotten about it but please don’t think that it doesn’t mean anything to me,” he whispered, his eyes aching to meet with hers but she just wouldn’t let it happen, looking to the side. 

But the moment those words left  his mouth, a bitter chuckle escaped her mouth as she finally looked him in the eyes. 

“Can you hear yourself Klaus?” She asked him, shaking her head. “If it did mean anything to you, you wouldn’t have forgotten about it!” She told him, fisting her hand to prevent herself from ripping her hair out of her scalp. 

“Please let me make it up to you, darling,” Klaus begged, his own tears threatening to spill. “I’d been a bastard to do such a thing but please let me show you how much you mean to me,” his voice went meek as he lowered his head to meet her eyes. “How much this,” Klaus whispered, motioning his hand to point at her and then at himself, “means to me,” he finished, cautiously cupping her face in his rough hands. 

And he breathed in relief when she leaned into his touch, a tear rolling down her cheek. 

“I cooked us a meal, lit up candles and I only wore this dress so you could take it off,” she admitted, a tinge of pink rising on her cheeks, betraying her sadness. “And you just had to go and mess everything up,” she sighed, closing the distance between them and wrapping her arms around him, clinging to his torso while resting her face in the cervix of his neck, ignoring the dried blood that covered his clothes and exposed skin. 

“And I’m so sorry darling,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I swear I’ll never do something like this again,” he smiled, swaying them side to side. 

Y/n detached herself from him then, her hair a bit ruffled due to his touch. “Please don’t,” she chuckled, pressing a quick kiss on his lips before weaving their fingers together and walking towards the bathroom. 

“You better not show up some day covered in your own blood,” Y/n warned him as she sat him on the bathroom counter and wetted a towel. 

She began wiping the blood off of him with ease, having done this a million and more times by now. And she’d just wiped down his neck when she realised that he had way more blood on him that she’d expected, and some in his hair as well.

“Why don’t you just take a shower? You genuinely have blood everywhere, hell it’s even in your hair,” she laughed and didn’t wait for his answer as she went on to turn on the shower and nodded her head at him, urging him to get in already. 

“You’re not joining me, are you?” Klaus asked, teasingly and nervously. 

“You wish, don’t you?” She grinned before walking out, her ears picking up on him mumbling how she very well knew that he did. 

And Y/n had just been sitting on the bed, waiting for him when he finally walked out of the shower, in a towel that hung dangerously low on his hips. And his drenched curls stuck to his forehead while water shone off of his chiselled chest, a teasing smirk on his mouth as he looked at her while she took him in.

He began walking towards her, a certain glint in his eyes as he watched her shut off the book in her lap and place it on her bedside table. Once he stood beside her, he took her hands in his and began moving so that she’d stand up and walk with him. 

Leaning in, he hovered his mouth over hers before tilting his head slightly so that he was whispering in her ear.

“You said you’d only worn this dress so I could take it off… yes?” He asked her, beginning to sway the two of them across the room, listening in to hear her heartbeat picking up while her heavy breath fanned his neck. 

Y/n hummed in response, her eyes fluttering close when he began pressing feather light kisses up her neck. She looked at him with intrigue when he stood the both of them in front of the mirror, looking at her with the slightest smirk from behind. 

“Gonna still let me take you up on that offer, darling?” he asked, his fingers dancing across her shoulders until she nodded her head, and whispered a small yes. 

“Gonna let me show you how much truly special you are to me?” He asked again, clearly teasing her as he fingers travelled to her back. He pressed his mouth against her jaw when she nodded again, eyes still on her in the mirror as he began nipping at her skin, leaving behind the very first hickey. 

He undid the chain of the dress, letting it slump off of her torso and expose her naked breasts to him. No bra, he grinned, licking the bruising skin on her jaw as a blush creeped up on the highs of her cheeks. 

From behind, his hands slithered across her skin, from her back to now her breasts, flicking the hardened nipples as he littered love bites all over her neck. 

He made sure that while he touched her, his eyes remained locked with hers. She knew after so many years with him that he preferred eye contact during such intimate moments, that he preferred to see how much effect he had on her – how he had her at his mercy just by touch. 

“Klaus,” she breathed with pleading eyes and let her head fall against his chest as he began to force the rest of her dress to slip off of her figure. 

“Darling,” Klaus smiled, turning her around once she’d stepped out of the dress that was merely a pool on the floor now. He picked her up, bridal style and walked over to their bed, laying her on it gently unlike other times when he’d roughly toss her on it. After all, he had some apologising to do tonight.

Moving to hover above her, Klaus resumed his kisses and marks, slipping lower and lower on her body until her fingers were clutching his curls while he bit lightly on the lowest point of her stomach. 

“Stop all this teasing now, Klaus,” Y/n asked of him, propping herself up on her elbows to look at him with a rather scolding look as he looked back at her with mischievousness swimming in his eyes.

“Only because I’m truly sorry,” Klaus grinned at her, teasing her for the final time before he pressed his mouth against her aching core, licking up her hole to her clit, spreading her arousal before he could actually begin. 

Y/n’s breathing hitched and a moan escaped her mouth when she felt him increase his pace a bit. His fingers dug into the skin on her hips as he kept his hold tight on her, forcing himself as close to her pussy as he could, his nose breathing in her scent and tongue lapping up her wetness. 

“Oh Klaus,” she whined when he shifted all his attention on her clit, sucking on it until he began feeling a tremor coursing through her thighs. 

He went back to licking up her arousal then, wanting to prolong her orgasm to give her a good one instead. And his own grunts began to vibrate against her core when he began to rub against the bed, causing her arousal begin dripping down his chin. 

“You taste fucking amazing, darling,” he told her as he pushed a finger inside her with ease, quickly adding another one at the realisation of just how open and ready he’d got her dawned on him. 

Y/n mewled above him, her moans turning into louder groans as he pushed himself against her core again, flicking her clit with his tongue while pumping his fingers inside her at a fast pace. Her eyes fell shut as the knot in her belly began to move lower and lower, a pleasing and burning sensation coursing through her body, causing her to begin shaking. 

Her thighs instinctively closed shut around Klaus’ head, her hands pushing against his head to get away from him, making him increase his pace even more. 

“Klaus, please!” She cried out to him, begging for release while her back arched off the bed, her eyes flying open when Klaus detached his mouth from her, keeping his fingers at work regardless. 

“Look at me,” he breathed, her arousal smeared across his mouth, along with a couple strings connecting his mouth and her core.

And he went right back to messing with her now puffy clit once he had her eyes on him. Noises of his tongue licking her up and down began to fill the room along with the ones coming from him fingering her, and her hips stuttered to move just once more before she was crying out, trying with all her might to get away from his mouth as she grew more and more sensitive as he made her ride out her orgasm. 

Klaus finally stopped after a couple more kitten licks then, crawling back up to her to kiss her. And he had just cupped her jaw when she flipped them over, now straddling his naked hips as the towel remained lying near the foot of the bed. 

And she began lining his hardened cock against her pussy, slowly sinking down on him until he was fully inside her. She placed her hands on top of his which were situated on her waist and then she began moving up and down, increasing her pace with each jump. 

“Only because I’m forgiving you,” she lazily grinned at him, making him chuckle hoarsely.

Klaus’ hands slowly slithered up her torso then, and cupped her breasts as their bouncing in his face was going to make him reach his high embarrassingly fast. 

And when he noticed her pace slowing down, he placed his hold back on her waist to hold her in place while he thrusted up into her, fucking her well enough for her to lean forward and hover over him with her eyes clenched shut. 

“Fucking hell,” Klaus gritted as her breasts were now back in his face, bouncing so prettily that he couldn’t help but take one of her nipples in his mouth to tease her into another orgasm now. 

“Oh I’m gonna cum again,” she moaned close to his ears, and it was enough to make him slip his hand between their connected bodies and rub her clit, all while he felt himself growing closer and closer to tipping over the edge himself. 

“Give it to me darling – give it to your husband,” Klaus groaned as he felt her walls clench around him, her orgasm slipping past her entrance and onto the base of his cock, making him spill inside her with a loud moan.

Making a few more deep and hard thrusts, Klaus finally stopped, his head thrown back in pure ecstasy as Y/n laid on top of him, wrapping her arms around his torso. 

“I fear you’ll need another shower, Klaus,” Y/n giggled, laughing harder when he sped both of them into the bathroom, and turned on the shower, kissing her with a wide grin on his own mouth. 

“Please buy more dresses just for me to take them off, my love,” Klaus told her, his teasing grin turning into dropped jaw when her arse brushed against him, eliciting an even deeper moan from him when she pressed herself further into him and began peppering kisses across his chest, nipping at the skin every once in a while just to hear him hiss.

“For the entirety of eternity, yes?” She grinned, yelling in surprise when he pushed her against the wall and pressed his mouth on hers, mumbling a hoarse ‘yes’ as she wrapped her legs around his waist.   

[love-toxin]

billy brainrot🤭 xxxi. "You're mine. Get that through your dense little brain." with him after a breakup!! pretty please

took me 1001 years to finish this but here i am babey

(cws: violent behavior, jealousy, toxic relationship, gn pronouns + fem nickname, possessiveness, post-breakup sex, needy billy, vaguely dubcon, shower sex, pet names, gaslighting)

Billy broke it off with you, not the other way around. He should not be the one banging on your front door, waiting by your car to catch you on the way to work, bothering you at your job to try and talk to you--and he especially should not be sabotaging your dates with other guys by showing up and causing a scene.

Punching your car window and dragging your date out to get into a fistfight with him? It's about as mature as a twelve year old's attitude. It was a first date too, not even that serious.

But that's just Billy. Just like it's quintessential for him to act all offended afterwards, like he's the one that's been put out cause you got mad at him. Then he starts up with the sweet talking, the "c'mon, mama", the kissing on your neck and telling you he missed you when you know he was messing with at least three other girls just this week. There's no reasoning with him, nor any point in entertaining his immature frame of mind. He's messed up and violent--a dangerous and unlikely-to-last cocktail for a partner.

Yet it's no surprise that you ended up in the showers with him, the pool empty and the parking lot dark since it's well close to midnight. You shouldn't have forced him to sit down with the first aid kit when he refused to go to the hospital for his cuts and that sprained shoulder--"'m not a pussy"--he said. It's different once the hot water hits his body, when he's got his hands bracing the wall behind you and his eyes burning a hole through your skull.

"You're mine." He growls over the hail of thudding water on linoleum. His skin burns as it slides over yours. "Get that through your dense little brain."

His muscles pin you like a brick wall against the shower, too broad and too strong for you to possibly resist. He slides your thigh up his hip to hook your leg around it, using the leverage to bump the tip of his rock-solid cock against you. That kiss he gives you is searing.

"Billy," You moan between kisses, your sentence finishing in a gasp as he slides in with a smirk. "You're an ass."

"You love me."

Thump. "No I don't." Thump. Each thrust knocks your head back against the tile, but Billy's hand creeps up to cushion it on the third time onward.

"You'd bite my dick off right now if you didn't."

"Nnh. I might still do it," Your warning comes with absolutely no venom, not nearly enough to wipe that grin from Billy's face as he gets exactly what he wants. Your answer makes him chuckle while he repositions you, hikes your other leg up with a grunt to hold you up against the shower wall. With both hands free you can cup his face as he makes out with you, adding to his perception that this is really what you wanted all along as your touches reminisce on a time not so long ago. When fucking in the pool room showers was a daily occurrence, tending his wounds was a kindness, and hearing him say 'I love you' felt like it actually had some meaning. Now it just feels like it's meant to placate you.

"Put on a condom, at least, you animal." You mutter amongst the sounds of skin slapping, tongues meeting teeth, and your back hitting the wet tile.

"I love you." He murmurs back. His voice rumbles against your throat, preceeding a soft but stinging bite that leaves a mark behind. You've got no idea what that answer means, but maybe it, too, means nothing. He could just be ignoring you for all you know.

"I'll pull out, baby. Y'know I will." Billy nips at your lower lip when he finally raises his head from your neck, having not had enough of using his teeth, evidently. "C'mon, mama. Love you."

"Quit it." That nickname hits you in the chest like a hammer on cloth, more than even those promises of love. He liked to tease you with that, then it became a term of endearment. You've always cared for him; reassuring his difficult emotions, cooling his anger, tending his wounds, even cooking for him and giving him affection in the simplest ways. Maybe that's why he's not letting you go. He can't do any better, but he can't let go of the only comfort he can find.

"That's it, baby..." He's losing himself now. His thrusts are aggravated, growing more aggressive as he reaches the finish line. His eyes squeeze shut and his grip tightens on your hair as his hips buck faster. "Squeeze down on it. That's it--that's, there--oh, fuck!"

The end comes as a surprise, a sudden moment of pleasure that overwhelms his ability to hold out. Billy's weight presses into you and you know--you just know by that distinct pulse inside you--that he's not pulling out like he said. Your nails dig deep scratches up his back as he closes in on it, harshly pressing your hips completely still as he forces himself past that one, last boundary that could've still allowed him an out. Now there's no choice but to drain himself inside you; cum splattering in thick drops down the drain as your legs tremble with pleasure. He always manages to get it on the last try--triggering your orgasm like it's a switch at the last possible moment. But he never misses, not even once.

Now it's sinking in. You're floating off your feet, barely able to stand when he finally lowers you down, and you have to let him hold you just so you don't fall. As much as you want to push him away, he made it so you need him to rely on. Again. And you don't feel as bad about it as you should.

"Break up with that dickhead." Billy growls into your ear, suddenly riled up again--probably over his own thoughts more than anything else. The way he has to tilt his head down just to reach your ear is a new level of intimidating...and regrettably, incredibly hot. "We need to get back together."

"You'll change your mind once your brain evicts itself from your dick." You mumble dismissively, nudging his arm down so you can grab a towel. But he stops you--he blocks you back under the water, his mouth barely a hair's width from yours as he whispers.

"I want you back, baby."

"This was a mistake. It was a first date anyways, weren't even 'together' in the first place...and I still don't want you back."

"Doesn't change the fact that I love you. We fit together." He murmurs into another kiss that you less than reluctantly accept. A lock of your hair curls around his bronzed skin as he twirls it round his finger. "Think about it, at least. I know you want it."

"Why the hell would I?"

"Cause you can't last a week without fucking me." That, at least, is true. But that doesn't...mean anything. Plenty of people backslide, it doesn't mean you're still in love with him. You turn your head in a pout and he smirks at the idea that he's right.

"I like your dick. Not you."

"Then take it every day." He grabs your hand and moves it over his crotch, just to laugh when you yank it away and slap him. It's not hard. Much less hard enough to make him feel anything but affection at how feisty you still are. "You're still mine. My pretty little slut-"

As he whispers low in your ear you finally break away from him, just barely stepping out of the shower when he grabs your ass on the way out. You have to wrench his wrist off to get him to let go and that's fortunately enough for him, but it doesn't change the downright predatory stare he gives you as he watches you dry off and get your clothes back on in a hurry.

"Come by the quarry later. Tomorrow. Let's have some fun in our old spot."

"Don't count on it."

You're done up and out the door before he knows it. Your car revs up in the parking lot outside before peeling out like a madwoman--and he can only imagine the way you're yelling and hitting your steering wheel as you drive, trying and failing to force your thoughts of him out of your head and the way that orgasm felt rippling through you, just as good as he always makes it feel.

He'll definitely be seeing you at the quarry tomorrow night.

[skylarsblue]

I still have more. More Incorrect Quotes.

(Accidentally had a lot more fem!Y/N than intended but it's overall GN!) Alex: What made you think you’d be good for the military? Y/N: I worked at a Waffle House in America. Alex: Ah, alright, that makes sense.

-- (Interrogating Valeria)

Y/N: Look, Gaz, you know me. I can't- I can't do it. Gaz: Why not? Why can't you interrogate her? Y/N: Because I'm a bisexual with mommy issues, Gaz. And she's as pretty as she is scary. I'm already not that intimidating, she'll laugh at me when I start stuttering and then I'll just be horny. It can't be me. Gaz: ....okay, I'll ask Alejandro-

-- Y/N: I just realized something...I had a bad childhood. Gaz: Yeah we know. Y/N: What do you mean you know? Soap: Look at how you stand! People who had good childhoods don't stand like that. Y/N: How do I stand?! Gaz: Like Ghost. Ghost: ...I don't appreciate the call out but fair-

-- Price: Where are you going?! Y/N: To either get ice cream or commit a felony, I'll decide in the car!

-- Ghost after watching Fem!Y/N do an incredibly risky move: I just...Is she blind?? Suffering some form of brain damage?

-- (Tw; Hollywood Undead unalive song)

Y/N: My legs are dangling off the edge, the bottom of the bottle is my only friend, I think I'll sli- Price: EXCUSE ME?! WHAT ARE YOU ON ABOUT?? Y/N: Wh- No Captain, it's just a so- Price: GHOST GET THE BASE PSYCH ON THE PHONE Y/N: CAPTAIN IT'S A SONG I'M FINE- Well I'm not bUT NO WAIT HANG ON-

-- Valeria: *screaming in spanish* Y/N: ... Gaz: Don't. Y/N, blushing: I'm trying-

-- (During movie night; watching Venom)

Y/N: *pauses on that scene where Venoms sticks his tongue out at the guy in the street* ....Hear me out- Gaz: NO! NO. Y/N: NO NO LISTEN, LISTEN- Soap: Let them speak. Gaz: Don't encourage this! Y/N, pointing at the screen: LOOK AT IT! LOOK! Objectively you have to understand- Gaz: NOOO, it eats people! Soap: THAT TONGUE IS THREE FEET LONG AT LEAST! Gaz: No, I will not be hearing anyone out! I- GHOST, Ghost, back me up. Tell them they shouldn't want to fuck the ALIEN. Ghost, looking at the screen: Ethically, it's wrong. Gaz: Thank you. Ghost: ...objectively- Y/N: AHA! SEE?!

-- Ghost: *bends over* Y/N: *silently flips out* Soap, quietly: Wh-what? What are you-?! Y/N: SHHH *grabs Soap's jaw and turns him to look* Soap: *slack jaw* Damn- Y/N: fuckingdamnindeed- Ghost: *turns around* Soap: So it's your turn to pick dinner, what're you thinking? Y/N: Oh I dunno, maybe something pork related, uh, or cake- Soap: Aha, yeah...cake. Ghost: ....??

--

Fem!Y/N: I am not the mom of 141, that's ridiculous. Someone: You make all of them lunch every day with fruit cut into shapes, IN PERSONALIZED LUNCH BOXES Fem!Y/N: They need nutrition! Someone: You color code their items- Fem!Y/N: Look, if you were there for the item mix-ups you'd understand. Someone: YOU ARE LITERALLY FOLDING AND LABELLING THEIR LAUNDRY WITH A SHARPIE ON THE TAGS. Fem!Y/N: *holding Simon's skull boxers, writing his name on the tag* That- ...oh my god I'm the mom.

-- Ghost, watching Soap run past: WHAT DO YOU HAVE?! Soap, grinning & sprinting: A FUCKIN' BOMB Ghost: NO!!!

-- Price: Y/N, this is Lieutenant Riley, you can call him Ghost. Ghost: Y/N, looking him up and down: ...you got daddy issues? Ghost: ....maybe Y/N: Cool, same. Pleasure to meet'cha, sorry life gave you shit. Ghost, shaking their hand: Ditto. Price: *concerned sigh*

-- Price, walking into the common area at 10 pm: What in the world- Gaz, Soap, and Y/N: *all in there pyjamas with face masks on, eating snacks* Y/N: *slowly keeps chewing* Gaz: ...heeeyy siiirr... Price: It was lights out an hour ago, what are you lot doing? Soap: *slowly raises another face mask* ....Self care, sir? Price: ... Ghost, walking in at midnight for water: ....what. Soap, Gaz, Price, and Y/N: *stop gossiping* Gaz: ....hey. Soap: Evenin' L.T. Y/N: Howdy. Ghost: *looks at Price with a face mask on* Ghost: ...*sighs and sits down* Pass the Goldfish. Soap: Yeaaaah, good man! Welcome to the party!

-- Shepard: Is anyone here straight?! Price: ...*hesitantly raises hand* Laswell: *pushes his hand back down*

-- Valeria: *angry ranting* Y/N, a captive: Stop being so mean to me or I swear to god I'm gonna fall in love with you!

-- Ghost: What in the hell are you doing? Y/N: Laying in the rain. Ghost: Why? Y/N: If I lay here long enough, it feels like it washes the sad away. So I'm gonna lay here until the sad is gone. Ghost: You'll get sick. Y/N: Better sick than sad, sir. Ghost: ...*looks at the sky, back down, sighs* Ghost: *lays down on the tarmac* Y/N: Got a lot of sad? Ghost: ...Yeah. Y/N: If the rain doesn't take care of it, let's trade sads. Then it'll at least be a different kind of sad. Ghost: Not sure you want my sad. Y/N: Maybe not, but I don't think you should have to handle your sad alone either. Ghost: ...alright. Y/N: Cool.

-- Price: Simon, it's three o' clock in the morning. Why on earth are you making chocolate pudding? Ghost: Because I've lost control of my life.

-- Soap, with a gunshot wound: Do I regret it? Yes. Will I do it again? Most likely.

-- Y/N after doing something so badass it would fit in a movie: ...DID EVERYONE SEE THAT?? CAUSE I WILL NOT BE DOING IT AGAIN.

-- Ghost: You kidnapped the prime minister's daughter? That's illegal! Soap: Okay, Ghost, but what's more illegal? Briefly inconveniencing the prime minister's daughter, or destroying 141? Ghost: KIDNAPPING THE PRIME MINISTER'S DAUGHTER, JOHNNY! Fem!Y/N: Do you guys have like, a water or something? Snack maybe? No?

-- Y/N: I think there's been some confusion. I'm not the one in trouble here. Enemy Soldier: ...What? Y/N: There are only four of you. You'll need more than that. Gaz, hearing it over the intercom: ...they're gonna whoop-ass but we should probably go help them.

-- Someone: Why are you doing their straps for them? Price: They don't like velcro. Someone: Just do it yourself! Y/N: I'm not touching that stuff! I'll get neurotypical cooties.

-- Y/N, high on painkillers: If yo leg get cut off, would it hurt? Soap, in a hospital bed beside them: ...DUH Y/N: How though? Soap: Cause your leg got cut off! Y/N: Where you gonna feel the pain? Soap: In your le.... Y/N: Exactly bro! How you gonna feel the pain in yo leg if- Both: If your leg is gone! Soap: Whoooaaa... Y/N: Bro I swear, we're geniuses. Ghost, on his last brain cell: Fuckin'ell.

-- Ghost, about to lose his shit: Dear lord, I know we haven't spoken in a long time but if you could give me a little patience-

-- Gaz: Do you believe in God? Y/N: ...Yes & no. Gaz: Yes & No? What do you mean? Y/N: I believe there is a higher power, I believe a God exists. But...believing in God? Now that...haven't done that in a long time.

--

Gaz & Y/N: *dancing* Ghost: Can you two be serious for five seconds? Gaz, bustin' a move: Dunno sir, can you have fun for five seconds? Y/N: *stops and looks at Gaz* Gaz: *stops and is filled with instant regret* ...uh, sir, I- Ghost: Tell you what. I'll give you five seconds...to start running- Gaz: *turns to run and sees Y/N already yards away* YOU LEFT ME?! Y/N: I WANNA LIVE!!!!

-- Ghost: What are they doing? Price: Arguing in morse code. Soap: - .... .- - .----. ... / .-- .... -.-- / -.-- --- ..- .-. / ... .... --- . ... / .-. .- --. --. . -.. -.-- Gaz: -.-- .- / -- --- -- -- .- Soap: YOU FUCKIN' TAKE THAT BACK-

-- Soap: Keep your eyes closed, I have a surpriiisee!~ Ghost: You did your paperwork? Soap: I said surprise, not miracle.

-- Y/N, on tiktok: FOR ALL YOU NASTY ASSES IN MY DMS- *shows the team* THIS IS MY TEAM. STOP SENDING MY DICK PICS OR I WILL SEND THEM AFTER Y'ALL. Ghost: You've been getting dick pics? Soap: Who the hell's been harassing you online?! Y/N: SEE?? THEY'LL WHOOP YA ASS, SO LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!

-- Y/N, on tiktok again: Alright, backfired on me. For all of y'all who are now trying to be nasty by THIRSTING for my teammates, uh, no. Stop askin' for my Captain's marital status, I'm not gonna tell you. No you may not get my teammate's dicks, I will not be giving you their social media, stOP ASKING I KNOW THEY'RE HOT BUT NO-

-- (I've fallen down the rabbit hole of Karen compilations, so, that's why I thought of this)

Y/N: Goodbye sir! Male Karen: Fuck you bitch! Go suck off your captain you fuckin' whore!! Y/N: Sure, I'll do that, goodbye! Male Karen: Suck my dick, whore! Y/N: Can't! It's too full of military dick, you'll need to make an appointment, GOODBYE!! Soap: *wheeze* Gaz: Jesus. Christ. Ghost: I told you all America is shit.

(Bonus Note cause I can't put in anywhere else; on the topic of Venom + C.o.D. I know we have Soap in place of Eddie & Ghost in place of Venom, but hear me out. Y/N! being Ghost's host and Johnny being a third part. P o l y ! A u !)

[d3vilcvntz]

hi if you're interested would you write anything for a clingy sub aki from chainsaw man? maybe ami woke them up from a nightmare or something or came home late and is craving them? thanks!

top male reader x sub aki csm

cw; somnophilia

you and aki have been together for almost a year now. everything were fine in the relationship except for the fact that both of you barely see each other anymore despite living together. both of you were busy working so the only time you see each other are early in the morning. your work always ended around 9pm and aki's work ended past midnight when you're already asleep. he won't admit it but he really miss you and your touch.

you were already asleep when he got home, slowly making his way to your shared bed so he won't wake you up. putting his hand on your face,moving your hair to the side so he can see your face better

"i miss you" he murmured, kissing you on your lips.

he really shouldn't be doing this but you did told him that it's okay to do this if he can't handle it on his own so, it should be fine right ? he won't do this if you don't agree to it in the first place.

slowly pulling your trousers down, revealing the bulge in your boxer. he can't wait for you to be inside him, it's all he's been thinking about all day while he was working ♡

"still asleep?" he whispered, looking at your face, eyes still shut, deep in sleep. you were always a heavy sleeper

pulling your boxer down to reveal your cock. he slowly stroked your cock and gave it a few licks on the tip

he stroke your cock faster as he started to prepare himself. inserting his own fingers in his hole, preparing to take your huge cock inside him <3 after what feels like hours for him, he finally got on top of you, slowly sinking down on your cock, hole already prepared to take you deep in him

putting his hand on his mouth to stop himself from making too much noises. he doesn't want you to see him being all pathetic like a slut !

desperately trying to get himself off, playing with his nipple, his other hand playing with his own cock while he rides you as you suddenly he grabbed his hip and thrusts deeper into him, finally awake from your deep sleep.

pushing him to lay on the bed as you press his legs close to his chest, ramming into his hole as he dig his nails into your back, probably will leave marks later on but who cares right ?

slamming your cock one last time as you came deep inside him as he came all over himself, painting his own face and chest with his cum.

"welcome back" you said to him as he smiled at you and drag you to lay down with him <3 you definitely can get used to this.

[kingkat12]

affair (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, oral sex (female receiving), dub-con, Roman using his powers for bad shit, angst, cheating, toxic relationship, justice for Peter omg

summary: when your ex-boyfriend shows up at your door, how are you supposed to push him away?

word count: 5,136

"No, please!-- We need to talk!" 

Roman forced a foot in my door to make sure I wouldn't close it on him. He was wet from the rain, his usually styled hair sticking to his forehead as he panted, desperately pleading for me to hear him out. "I made a huge mistake," he breathed, regret glossing over his green eyes. "Could you please just hear me out?"

This was definitely not the most ideal situation to be in-- my boyfriend, Peter, had just left my apartment to go home and get ready for his early shift, so I had gotten ready for bed. And I certainly wouldn't be dressed in my pyjamas and slippers had I known that my ex would show up at my door looking beyond frantic. My mind raced with uncertainty, filled with endless questions and doubt; what was he doing here? Was he drunk? Why was he doing this now, after two months of being broken up? "You-- You need to go," I didn't have the time or energy to deal with the mess Roman always dragged back into my life, especially now that I was finally happy with someone else.

Worst of all, I knew for a fact that Roman had someone else too. I knew he was seeing some woman with long, blonde hair whom I refused to stalk for my own good, so why on earth was he here? The question lingered in my mind, but I had to remind myself about the one thing I had the answer to at the moment; I needed to close the door on him now. 

Upon hearing my words of rejection and feeling the door press up on his foot in an attempt to force him out, Roman wedged his arm between the door. "Let me explain," he pleaded, chest heaving. "I just ran seventeen blocks in the fucking rain to see you, could you at least spare me a minute?"

As if that was enough of a justification to show up out of the blue? "No one asked you to do that. I certainly did not," To say that I was pissed off was an understatement, but Roman's pleading eyes were making me sick with guilt. He looked like a lost puppy of sorts, and it was certainly not helping my restraint. The hand I had on my doorknob felt like it was starting to lose blood because of how hard I was holding on-- I couldn't let him in. I shouldn't let him in. 

"I know," Roman eventually said, moving his wet hair out of his eyes. "I know you don't want to see me, but I just... I needed to see you."

"... I think you should go back to your girlfriend," I started to push at his shoe with my slipper, preparing to slam the door in his face. "You shouldn't be here."

It didn't take long for Roman to figure out what I was doing, and it became apparent that he wasn't going to go down without a fight. It didn't take much strength for him to grab the door, forcing it wide open, staring down at me with a damning look of desperation I hadn't seen in any man before. "Just a minute," he breathed. "Please let me say my piece. If I don't, I swear I'll die."

I didn't enjoy this one bit-- coming to my doorstep, threatening to die if I didn't comply? I had forgotten how manipulative he could be. Being with Peter had shown me that Roman's behavior in our relationship had been beyond toxic, and I could see it clearer than ever as he stood before me now. "You're not going to fucking die," I grumbled, feeling myself grow annoyed with how he was throwing himself back into my life, completely uninvited. "Roman, it's almost midnight, maybe this manic behaviour of yours will go away with a good night of sleep?"

Frustrated, Roman tapped his fingers against the door. "Now you're just making it hard, as always,"

"And you're being crazy, as always," I mumbled, shifting my weight from foot to foot, a sense of restlessness taking over my stance. "Could you please leave? We did this back-and-forth thing months ago, I'm not interested in doing it all over again."

In true Roman fashion, standing face to face with rejection, he didn't know what to say or do. I could recognize his patterns now that we weren't together, and it was so damn typical of him to attempt to distract me from what was making me mad; "I remember those," he said, nodding toward my slippers. "Good to see you've kept them."

I knew he was distracting me, so why did it work? Sighing, I shrugged; "They were expensive... Wasn't going to throw them away just because you picked them out,"

Letting go of the door, knowing he had tranquilized the danger of getting it slammed in his face, Roman leaned against the frame in a James Dean-esque fashion. He let out a dragged-out breath, eyes rounding out; "I've missed you,"

His words snapped me out of my daze, and I immediately pulled away from the door with a groan. "Ugh, Roman, you need to go!" I turned my back to him, walking further into my apartment, my instincts telling me to get as far away as possible. "I'm finally happy with Peter, and you have no right to show up at my door just because you're bored!--" My trail of words came to a halt as I suddenly heard my door close; I knew I was fucked in an instant. My heart trembled at the recognition of the sound of the lock turning, realizing I was in for a long night. Fuck. I turned around, holding my breath, watching as he took wary steps towards me. 

"One minute," Roman said, voice low and unsteady. "That's all I ask." 

"No!" I took a few steps back, not daring to get too close. "You can't be here! This is completely inappropriate, Roman, I have a boyfriend! And I know you have a girlfriend too, along with a huge fucking drinking problem!" 

Roman sighed, a silent declaration of his frustration. "I'm not drunk," he said, gaze falling to the floor. "I just... I've come to realize that I can't live like this anymore. I want to be with you."

I clenched my fists tightly in a futile attempt to quell my agitation, but my hands continued to shake. "That's too bad," I said, a sinking feeling taking hold and clinging to me. "I'm not doing this with you again. I'm not getting up in the middle of the night to look for you, wondering whether you're either dead or drunk in some alley. Not when I have Peter."

Exhaustion drugged Roman's movements, every movement slow, every breath. It was clear that the mention of Peter was an unpleasant reminder that we were over; his shoulders slumped, the weight of guilt settling upon them. "I haven't had a drink since the day you left me," he said, his sincere eyes finding mine. "I want to be good for you... I want you. Every second of every day." 

At this point, I had taken so many steps back that I had hit the wall. It was getting a little harder to breathe, and I ended up hyperventilating-- I couldn't do this. I could still feel Peter on my shirt. Everything about this was wrong. "You need to stop," I breathed, stepping away from the wall and wandering further into my living room as I grew restless. "Please stop. Don't do this to me."

To my dismay, Roman only followed; "I'll leave her," he pleaded. "I'll leave her if you tell me to, I'll do whatever you want! I should've fought for us, I should've done so many things that I didn't do... It keeps me up at night that I let you go. I can't sleep, I can't function, I need you to know how this pains me!"

"No, I don't need to know that!" My steps came to a halt, and I pivoted on the heel of my slipper to face him. "You put me through hell, and now think you can just show up like this! Don't you think I have enough emotional baggage from you? You think I don't have enough or something, so you come here to unload some more? What the fuck am I to you, a loading dock?!"

Roman let out a harsh sigh; "Is that a serious question?" he asked, brows weaving together in frustration. "You are everything. I see that now!"

I was already exhausted from the day I had just had, and I barely had any energy left to fight with Roman. This was what we did-- we fought, we fucked, then we made up. However, this time was completely different, and it was throwing me off my course; we couldn't fuck and make up this time. But it was clear that he hadn't shown up to fight, so what on earth was this?

"Well, it's too damn late!" I groaned loudly, hiding my face in the palm of my hands. This was way too overwhelming. When the love of your life shows up at your door telling you everything you've ever wanted to hear, you want to rejoice-- not cry? My eyes burned with the tears that begged to be set free, distorting my vision as I lifted my face from my hands, unveiling that I was swimming in tears. "Do you not see what you do to me?" I breathed, sniffling. "Did you come here to drive me to tears? Do you have no remorse, Roman?"

Roman's lips parted, the worried look on his face revealing everything, his concern written all over. In the quiet moments that followed, the only sound was the echoing resonance of regret filling the space between us with its haunting presence. Our unsaid words were scattered in the air, and it felt like I was suffocating from every apology he could muster up. 

"Let me be happy," I begged, swallowing hard. "Leave now and let me forget. I'm happy with Peter... Please."

It was clear that Roman was debating whether or not to comply. His conscience was gnawing at him-- I knew him well enough to be able to spot the signs. I hated how familiar he was, how it felt like we hadn't been apart at all, like it was yesterday that he had made me feel things I never knew I could feel. The feeling of pure bliss had been like a drug that Roman constantly pumped into me, making me a complete and utter junkie. It had resulted in me falling for him despite how beyond bad he was for me. 

I remembered it all too well. The binge drinking that would go on for days, which often had him disappearing off of the face of the earth. His wandering green eyes used to leave me with such crippling anxiety, I would spend hours crying with a lingering feeling of nausea in my throat. He used to make me so, so sick in every possible way, and my body remembered it better than I did. 

However, I could also sense that something had changed. Here he was; standing in my living room, drenched in rain, clinging onto his last slivers of hope, and I knew I was in for a good run of Roman-mania. 

Of course he would come back to claim what he thought was his. Of course he'd be arrogant enough to believe it would be okay, that I would take him back, and that it would be completely alright for him to come towards me with rushed steps, kissing me with desperation that I had never felt from him before.

Our bodies were pressed together heatedly, Roman's hands on my waist keeping me in place. I could taste our shared nervous breaths, feel the thud of my heart against his, and it was all too much-- I pushed him off of me, tears pooling in my eyes as they streaked down my cheeks. "No!" I cried, my words getting choked. I couldn't believe what he had just done; my heart was actively breaking at the thought of Peter, the loveliest boyfriend I had ever had. I couldn't do this to him. "Roman, you can't just!--"

I hated the warmth that spread in my chest as Roman pulled me back in, sparks igniting in the pool of my stomach as his impossibly perfect lips moved against mine once more. I balled my fist, landing a firm hit against his chest, fighting the ecstasy that always followed any kiss from Roman. But his grip around me was impossibly tight, not letting me budge. You'd think he'd been starved for months with the way he was kissing me with hunger unmatched any other moment I'd ever shared with him, completely taking my breath away. Like this, I could almost believe that I had been on his mind in every waking moment, ravaging through his veins like a burning ache-- I couldn't lie and say that he hadn't been on my mind either.

No one could match Roman; not even my sweet, sweet Peter. I hated it with every fiber of my being. 

The only thing I hated more, was that I never wanted him to stop. 

"No," I cried against his lips, my fingers gripping his wet shirt, bunching it up, unsure whether to pull him closer or push him away once more. Was it maybe that he sensed how much I wanted this too that made him allow himself to continue?

Lightning struck in the distance, illuminating my apartment with a flash as my tears rolled down, mixing in with our kiss. No matter how wrong I knew this was, it felt like my soul was slowly leaving my body and giving itself to him once more; I knew I was dealing with a force outside of anything I could ever control. The love I had for Roman was all-consuming, crushing, devastating-- I could barely bring myself to fight him. "Stop," I breathed in between kisses. "Don't, Roman--"

My breath hitched as I realized my back was now pressed against the wall, and Roman pulled away barely an inch; I could feel the soft tickle of his breath beneath my nose, his fingers now moving through my hair as we breathed each other in. "Leave him," he whispered against my lips. "Let's try again."

My heart had become like melted wax in my chest, making it painful to breathe. "We'll crash and burn all over again," I breathed, feeling the salty traces of my tears on my lips. "We'll kill each other, you know this."

"Let me die by your hand, then," Roman connected our foreheads, closing his eyes. Like this, I could almost believe him, I really could-- he had actually missed me, hadn't he? "A death by you would be a death worth dying."

I felt my lower lip quiver in a sob; I wanted him more than anything in the world, and I had an inkling that he knew it better than I did. I couldn't allow myself to feel all the feelings I had bottled up in our time apart, knowing it would break me and lead me right back into his arms. 

But Roman was insistent-- "I love you," He whispered it as though it was a secret he had been keeping for a thousand years. I could barely accept that this was real; the words I had wanted from him our whole relationship were being spilled out like a consolation for my pain. 

I knew there was no reason for me to fight anymore; Roman knew me too well. He knew that this was all I had ever dreamed to hear, and he knew exactly how to use it against me. Unsure whether he was telling the truth or not, the emotions I had let fester deep within came rushing through the floodgates, making it impossible to do anything but feel; the love I had for him, the feelings that had never left me, the burning sensation of need and hope coursing through my veins. 

So, I didn't fight him when he kissed me once more. I didn't fight the arm he snaked around my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I didn't fight the rush I got from finally being reunited with him in this way; I had wanted his back mouth against mine since the second we were over. 

My conscience gnawed at me as Roman pressed himself up against me, but my guilt didn't hinder me from letting my fingers run through his wet hair, giving in to the engulfing infatuation I had with him. As his hungry kisses moved down my jawline and to my neck, I dared to inhale a shaky breath; I was getting dizzy from the rush of feeling him close to me like this, grabbing my waist, running his hands up my body as though he had no self-control at all. 

The inner corners of my brows turned up, giving in to the crushing feeling of relief and sadness, closing my eyes as I held him tightly against me. There was so much I wanted to say, to do, but I couldn't bring myself to push him away-- not when it felt this good. Not when his hands dipped beneath my shirt, grazing at my bare skin, drinking me in as though I was water. It didn't take long for Roman to get my shirt off of me, and I could taste our shared breath along with the thud of our combined heartbeat as it got tossed to the floor.

Roman's fingers pressed themselves into my skin, getting reacquainted after our time apart. I hadn't realized that I was tracing my hands up and down his arms, mindlessly relishing in the familiarity; I had missed him dearly, and I couldn't bring myself to lie about it any longer. My hands went back up into his hair as he kissed down my chest, my breaths getting short and choppy as I allowed myself to bask in the feeling of his lips against my body. 

"We shouldn't," I tried, the memory of my boyfriend lingering in the back of my mind.

Roman hummed against my skin, now kneeling before me. He grasped at my hips as he pressed a wet kiss against my lower abdomen, making my breath hitch. "Push me away, then," he murmured, his wet tongue tracing where he had just kissed me; it was impossible not to shiver. 

He knew he had control. He knew, that bastard knew so well-- I couldn't push him away. I was never able to do it before, so how was I supposed to do it now? I felt my tears dry up, the familiar ache between my legs pooling, threatening to run over. As if by instinct, my hips rose from the walls, begging for him to finally do something. 

Roman's grip on my hips tightened, pushing me back in place. Something about the growing smirk on his face had me questioning everything; what was I doing? Was this just a ploy for him to get laid? A big, dark part of me didn't care at this point. The fingers I had in his hair loosened as he hooked his fingers in my pyjama pants, dragging them down with a satisfied look on his face. Roman wasted no time, humming as he leaned forward to press a keening kiss against my dampening underwear.

My breath hitched, my back arching off the wall in a knee-jerk reaction-- I had missed this more than I should've. There was no passion like this with Peter, although he was sweet and considerate. But Roman was so all-taking, so consuming, I couldn't do anything other than let him do whatever he wanted to do to me. He pulled my underwear to the side, laving his tongue against me as I whimpered, tasting me. Roman's big hands grabbed my leg, forcing it over his shoulder, pushing himself closer to my sex with an aching need. 

"Roman," I tried, my guilt mixing in with the pleasure. "Don't--" All other words suddenly fled my mind as his lips sealed around my clit, sucking at me in a way that had me crying out in shock, my vision nearly turning black.

Just as I thought I would faint from the flood of emotions, Roman came back up after taking his time, breath heavy against my lips. "Still want me to go?"

My eyes glossed over, meeting his. Thunder and lightning struck outside again, lighting up my living room, and allowing me to see the traces of my slick around his mouth. Something about it was just too scandalous-- I couldn't believe any of this was happening. But we'd gone too far to go back now; "No," I breathed, slinging my arms around his neck, pulling him into a heated kiss. 

As I tasted myself on his lips, Roman picked me up, and my legs automatically wrapped around him as they always had. He didn't need to watch where he was going as he knew my apartment almost as well as I did, walking away from the wall and laying me down on the couch with ease. 

It was hard to focus on the true nature of what was going on when it felt so damn good. Everything happened in a blur; I couldn't recall how or when Roman had lost his shirt, when my underwear got pulled off and discarded, or how I had allowed this to happen. Roman's cock pressed into me slowly, still trying to be sincere despite the complexion of our encounter. With every thrust, my chest arched up against his, back curving as I whimpered at the stretch. 

My hands rested on Roman's neck as he kissed me once more, stealing my breath with every roll of his hips. The part of me that was outraged with the both of us withered away as I continued to moan beneath him, coming out in broken cries. I couldn't focus on the infidelity I was committing when he was inside of me like this, his hands wrapped around me, moving me against him. 

"Fuck, I've missed this," Roman breathed against my neck, letting out a laboured sigh of satisfaction. "All of you... All of this..."

Everything about this was dizzying; maybe this was my mind playing tricks on me, maybe this was all some dirty dream? But I could feel myself clinging to him, wet and dripping-- there was no way this wasn't real. "Rome," I cried, the old nickname slipping past my lips. 

I could feel him give in to a shiver, ears perking up. "That's sweet," Roman kissed my cheek, driving his cock further into me as I whimpered, no longer used to his length like before. Even as he whispered my name, needing me, I briefly thought of how less intimidating he was at this moment-- this was the part of Roman that would show up in my dreams, caress my cheeks as I cried, and fall asleep on top of my chest after a long day, clinging to me. I had spent so much time resenting him, that it was weird to see him so... human. Desperate.

I let out a short gasp as I suddenly realized I was almost folded in half, my legs creasing at his arms. One thing hadn't changed; Roman would always take his liberties with me, no matter the circumstances. It somehow bothered me that I was being fucked with the same amount of love as before; did he have no guilt? No thoughts of his girlfriend at home?

Fuck-- Peter!

As I remembered my boyfriend, I felt my anxiety rise. My hand shot up to Roman's chest, lips parted, ready to protest and push him away-- but as I met his eyes, the green of his irises practically engulfed my being, and not a sound would come out of my mouth. "Shh, it's okay," Roman said, voice calm, reading my panic. "It's just me... It's okay."

Something about his voice was so calming, soothing, that a certain sense of relief washed over me-- I could recall several similar instances. This had happened before; it was almost as though a greater power controlled me every time I looked into his eyes for too long. 

The hand I had on his chest went up into his hair, pulling him forward to capture his lips in a kiss. I was caught off guard as Roman pulled out only till the tip of him remained, letting out a soft gasp against him as he pushed back into me to the hilt. I felt him hum against the kiss, sighing in satisfaction. "There you go," he said, words softer than ever. "Just relax, enjoy... Let me take care of you, just like I used to."

Despite how hard my guilt was eating at me, I still felt ridiculously calm, unable to do anything else than comply. I could only moan, shivering with pleasure at the feeling of being driven forward against the couch with every thrust. 

I wrapped my arms around Roman, kissing his broad shoulders, giving in to the pleasure. I had missed this, I had missed him... All my feelings started to ball up, crying out against his shoulder at the realization of what was about to happen. "Rome, I- I can't--"

"Gonna?" His question came out along with a grunt and another snap of his hips, repeatedly pushing himself into me. 

I couldn't hold it-- I really, really couldn't. Something about the nature of our get-together mixed in with my climax, and I let my head fall back down against the couch as I cried out. It was so hard, so intense, that I had forgotten to breathe; I hadn't had an orgasm like that since the day we broke up. 

I knew I was screwed. I knew it.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

As everything started to dawn on me, my breathing got heavier-- what had we done? I pulled myself closer to Roman on the bed, completely spent, seeking comfort from the person who had dragged me into this mess in the first place. 

Eventually, Roman broke the silence; "We should do porn," he mumbled, taking another drag of his cigarette. 

What? I looked up to glare at him; "Fuck you,"

"You just did," Roman smirked, glancing back at me with a rather proud expression on his face. "But I'm serious. We're damn hot."

I groaned; this was not what I needed to hear right now-- not after we had just finished round three. Roman reached out for me with his free hand, pulling me even closer, lazily running his fingers through my hair. I embraced him as I sniffled, burying my face in the crook of his neck. I was so tired, feeling my sore legs ache as I realized that up close, Roman's hair smelled like cigarettes as well. He might've quit drinking, but quitting cigarettes was a no-go in his book.

"We're horrible people," I mumbled, my words muffled up against his skin, taking in his presence. There were many times I had dreamed about us being reunited, but never that it would end up with me cheating on Peter.

Roman shrugged, turning to press a kiss against my temple. "I told you, I'm leaving her. We're fine," 

Nothing about this felt fine. I propped myself up on my elbow, watching him as he laid comfortably in my bed, almost done with his cigarette. Even after convincing me to commit such a heinous act against my boyfriend, he looked like an angel. Fucking Lucifer. "... Don't do it. Don't leave her."

"What?" Confused, Roman's green eyes rounded out. "Why not?"

I sighed, shaking my head. The decision I had made for myself was hard to air out, and I knew that protests would ensue; "I'm not leaving Peter,"

But despite my predictions, Roman got quiet. His wide, empty eyes stared right back at me, lips parted as though he was ready to speak. "... You're kidding me?" he finally said, the hurt in his face mixing in with a smidge of anger. "After this, you're going to stay with him?"

"He's good for me!" I tried, sitting up properly. "Roman, please, just-- I don't know what came over me, but this was a mistake... We're not good for each other, you know this!--"

"You're kidding me?" Roman repeated, clearly in a state of shock. 

This whole ordeal was making me feel like the second worst person in the world, with the first place going to Roman. I buried my face in my hands, realizing that I was trembling. "Please don't make this harder than it already is," I pleaded, inhaling a shaky breath. "You had no right to show up here... I was fine just the way I was, and I'm going to go back to that."

I heard Roman shift, sitting up as well. His long, slender fingers wrapped around my wrists, prying my hands away from my face. His green eyes burned into me, the fire intent on destroying whatever it could catch, and I knew I had to look away before it was too late. "I'm leaving her," he said, intertwining his fingers with mine. "I love you. I'm leaving her."

It took a lot of willpower to shake my head, rejecting his words. "Don't," 

"I will,"

"No, Roman, I don't want you to!--"

My words came to a halt as Roman leaned forward, capturing my lips in a rushed, desperate kiss. I did my best not to cry again, having previously burst into tears in the middle of round two-- I couldn't do this. This wasn't good for me. Peter was good for me.

I felt Roman's hands leave mine, and before I knew it, his fingers twisted into the hair at the nape of my neck, forcing me to look at him. His eyes searched mine, looking to find some shred of doubt to hang onto. "Do you love him?" I barely had time to open my mouth to speak before he cut me off; "You wouldn't have done this if you did."

My tears came back, pressing up on my eyes with a burning fire, begging to be set free. "Please, just... Please just go,"

Roman let out a sigh, leaning forward to press his lips against my forehead. "Call me when you change your mind,"

"I won't,"

"You will," Roman's hand slid out of my hair, caressing my cheek with his thumb, his green eyes finding mine once more. And just as I was about to look away, I felt that familiar calm wash over me as the colour green took over my vision, the numbing of my thoughts ensuing; there was no way I could fight it. I didn't stand a chance. 

Roman's lips quirked into a shameless smirk; "You will,"

a/n: (should I do a pt.2? hihi)

[georgeclarkesgf]

forgetful | george clarke

the minute george stepped into the flat, he knew something was off.

"y/n? you here?" walking further into the flat, he found y/n in the kitchen making herself a cup of tea, "hey, sorry i'm back so late. we missed t-"

"don't. i can't believe you. all i asked was that you not plan to film today and i wake up to a message telling me you've gone to film a video for arthur. do you even know why i asked you to stay home today?"

he was trying to remember, really he was. but his mind was blank and the guilt began to seep in, only just noticing the tears that left stains on her cheeks.

"no. of course you don't. my parents are in town george. i planned a nice lunch, maybe go on a walk, come back to the flat for a few drinks, but all that went to shit because you left to film a stupid video and then ignored my messages all day. you know how important it is to me that you get along with my parents so having to cancel on them last minute because you weren't even here was not something i wanted to have to do." the tears in her eyes were threatening to fall again, hating how needy and pathetic she sounded.

"we can sti-" george tried, again quickly being shut down.

"no george, i'm mad at you. you don't get to say it'll be alright and that we can still do something. we're not playing happy families. you've hurt me. when we sort this out, then we organise something else."

now the guilt was in full swing and he immediately started to think of ways he could make it up to her, knowing it would take a lot of grovelling to get back onto her good side.

"i'm going to bed, i love you." a soft kiss being placed on his lips.

"i love you too." slight relief evident on his face, knowing she'll never not say 'i love you', even during an argument.

she rounded the kitchen island, starting to make her way to his room and get ready for bed. george watched as she closed the door, still stood in the kitchen, contemplating whether to follow her or give her some space.

he decided on the latter.

--------

it was nearing midnight when george decided he needed some sleep, and the dip in the bed as he got comfortable was enough to wake y/n, a groan leaving her lips.

"sorry. i didn't mean to wake you," she let out an agitated hum of acknowledgement and rolled over, curling into george's side, unable to resist the heat his body always provided, "still mad at me?"

"yep." she responded, accentuating the 'p'.

"okay. can we talk about it?"

"i've said my peace. you go."

"i really am sorry sweetheart, i feel awful," her nails were running along the lines and dips of his stomach, a habit he'd grown accustomed to over the several months they'd been together, "the video was planned ages ago and i didn't even realise the dates clashed. when you reminded me of 'that thing' that was happening today i thought you meant filming. i promise to make it up to you. and your parents. please say they don't hate me."

george hoped it was enough, not that he wouldn't do anything she asked to get her to forgive him, but he couldn't stand the thought of her staying mad at him.

in y/n's head, he was forgiven. during her time alone, she realised she didn't even give him a chance to explain before locking herself in his room for the rest of the night.

"i'm sorry too," george was slightly taken aback by this, unsure what she was apologising for, "i shouldn't have stormed off like that. not even letting you speak before i disappeared all night. and my parents don't hate you. we can do dinner tomorrow if that's okay with you?"

"that's more than okay. i have my whole day free to spend with you and them. we can do whatever you guys want. i love you."

"i love you. so much. even if you are forgetful."

and george stuck to his promise. safe to say y/n's parents like george more than her.

a/n have this as an 'i'm sorry i haven't posted in a while present' <3

[ddejavvu]

Okay! Please take your time writing this I understand if it doesn’t make sense! 🫶🏾!!

So I love over caring reader she’s adorable! And I was wondering if you could do something like she’s not an agents and she’s just Aaron’s cute little girlfriend!

And Aaron Comes over to check on her every night when he gets off of work at the same time. It’s pretty late and a very common time for violent crimes to happen! And since Aaron comes to see her at the exact same time she just figured. “I’m just gonna leave the door unlocked for him!” Not knowing how much danger that could put her in.

So when Aaron knocks on the door expecting her to come over and open it like she usually does. It’s rubs him the wrong way when you yell “It’s open Aaron!” And how does he an fbi agent who deals with Incidents like this all the time when people just leave the door open and then boom dead react to this?

Love you and your writing!!

~sincerely silk 🤍🫶🏾✨

Aaron feels bad knocking on your door past midnight, but he'd given his spare key to your place to Jessica while he was away on business, and he hasn't seen her since he landed. He'd gone straight to your apartment after hearing that Jack was already asleep, safely tucked away in Jess's spare room, and now he stands outside your door with his go-bag and a box of pizza he's planning on sharing with you.

He loves his son more than anything, but he'll let the boy stay with his aunt for one more night if it means he gets you to himself.

He knocks lightly, used to pounding on the door much harsher to speak to barricaded unsubs. You hear him even if he's not breaking it down, and Aaron feels his stomach drop clear to his feet when you call back with a muffled shout, "It's open!"

It's open.

Your door is unlocked.

Your voice sounds like it's coming from your bedroom, down the hallway and out of view of the entryway. You'd been in your bed for god knows how long past midnight with your door unlocked, and you hadn't even verified his identity before announcing that you were completely vulnerable.

All of a sudden the heated weight of the pizza box in his hands makes his stomach turn. He opens the door, hating how little resistance he's met with, and deposits his things weakly on the couch. He places the pizza on the coffee table and makes a point to lock both of the latches on your door, even going as far as to jiggle the handle once it's closed to make sure it doesn't budge.

It doesn't, but maybe he'll check one more time before sleeping, just in case.

He starts down the hallway and each step he takes feels leaden. Your hallway is dark, and your door is mostly shut- god, you'd have no idea that someone was in your apartment until it was too late.

When he pushes open the door to your bedroom you're waiting for him with an eager grin, but at the grave, stony frown on his face, you slump slightly.

"Aaron," You hum cautiously, "Are you alright? Tough case?"

"You left the door open." He states, his voice purposefully controlled.

You nod slowly, "Yeah, you don't have your key, do you? Jess said she's still got it at her place."

"You can't leave the door open." Aaron forgoes any acknowledgement of your reasoning, stomach still churning uncomfortably.

"It was just for a little bit," You insist, "Only when I saw you were coming here from the airport."

"You can't leave the door open." Aaron repeats, sounding like a broken record. Over and over and over again he sees flashes of darkness and shadow in his mind, a grey mask, a haunting pair of eyes, a dead woman on the ground.

It's something he's seen before, something he's all-too-familiar with, and he thinks his nausea might overtake him if he doesn't shut his brain down first.

"I'm okay." You seem to settle into the realization that you're not getting out of this one, and you stand from the bed to approach him, "I'm sorry, Aaron. I didn't think about it. You're right, I- I shouldn't have left the door open. I won't anymore. I'll keep it locked, I promise."

"You can't-" He tries again, but his voice quavers slightly, and you rush to take his hands.

"I won't." You promise, kissing the backs of his large hands while you squeeze them in your own smaller ones, "I won't, Aaron. I promise. I'll lock it. I'm okay, I'll lock it."

He steadies himself while you hold his hands, letting you squeeze life back into him where it had threatened to leave him to rot in his own trauma. When he feels like taking a break won't kill him, he drags oxygen into his lungs, blinking away a tear in his left eye, "There's pizza on the counter."

You smile sadly, nodding and using your intertwined hands to pull him towards the kitchen. You sit him at the counter and serve him two slices on a paper plate, and he watches wearily as you flick the lights on in the entryway and survey the locks.

"I locked them." He tells you, pizza still on its plate and not anywhere near his mouth. He's not sure he's hungry quite yet, but the heat radiating off of the slices is nice on his hands.

"Thank you, Aaron. And I will, too," You promise, jiggling the door handle just as he had done, and nodding to yourself when it doesn't budge.

"Please do." He begs, trying to make it sound much stronger than it is.

"Eat your pizza," You pad back into the kitchen, sitting beside him at the next stool over. You rub a hand over his tense back as he sits, and he lets himself relax into the feeling of your touch, your warmth, your life.

When he finally raises a slice to his mouth you lean forwards to bite off the edge of the crust. You give him a guilty smile as you chew, but he can't stop a grin of his own from growing around his mouthful of cheesy bread. He thinks he might let you devour the whole pie if you wanted to; anything so long as you're alive.

[desi2go]

Sick days

pairing: sick!Hyunjin x reader

Warnings: fluf

Summary: You imagined your day off differently. But taking care of your sick boyfriend was even better.

Being with Hyunjin was like a soft breeze that played with your hair and kept the busy thoughts away from you. It was like a sunset at the beach. The bright colours were exciting but calming. Every day was a new adventure, a new story.

As a nurse, you dealt with a busy and hectic schedule and Hyunjin was always there after a long 12 hours shift to bring you comfort. Like a breeze his fingers brushed through your hair as you hid your face in his neck, trying to get the annoying smell of disinfection out of your nose.

He was your safe space. Whenever you felt down or self-conscious, he grounded you and build you up. As an idol, he always worked ambitiously to perform the best for his beloved STAY. Even though he was exhausted, he makes sure that you are okay and looked after you at the end of the day.

He texted you, that today's practice would run late and you shouldn't wait for him. You just came home from your long shift and it was already 11 pm. You hoped that he wouldn't overwork himself and come home quickly. You quickly changed out of your work clothes and jumped under the shower. Then, you cleaned the dishes from the morning due to the missing time because nearly overslept. Luckily, you had managed to get to work in time but without a breakfast.

You figured that your boyfriend would be starving when he will get home, so you ordered takeout.

You yawned and cuddled further into the couch with a blanket draped over your lap as you watched your favourite TV show again. Well, you loved to watch it with him.

Hyunjin came home in the middle of the night. The clock in the hallway said that it was long after midnight and he felt terrible. Today's practice was a pain. It seemed like everything he did was slow and forced. There wasn't the usual easy flow, the balance and the melody didn't took over his body. It didn't guide him and that was frustrating, especially since the comeback season starts soon. He must give everything and more for his friends and STAY.

After he slipped out of his shoes, he walked into the living room just to see you on the couch. Your hair that was once in a neat ponytail was now all over your face and your head leaned against his pillow that you must have stolen from the bed. He chuckled quietly and quickly showered. Then, he kneeled in front of you and brushed some hair strands out of the way. Your nose scrunched and you stirred awake.

"Hello my love. Were you waiting for me" he whispered as your sleep driven eyes blinked at him and a small smile danced over your pretty lips.

"Yeah, I ordered takeout for you" you answered and rose from your snuggly place to stretch out your sore muscles. As much as you loved that couch, that you two bought together after moving in, the bed was way more comfortable. He pecked your forehead and went to heat up the food.

You followed him and cuddled into his side as he ate his food. You were sleepy and just enjoyed the warmth of your personal human heater. From time to time he cleared his throat.

"You ok?" You asked as he did it again. "Yeah, just drank less water while practicing"

You grapped him a bottle of water and a glass. You can imagine that sport made your throat pretty dry especially when you dance for hours.

...

The next morning you woke up in an empty bed. Jinnie was already up and probably at the company. It was your day off and on those days even though you were an early riser, you sometimes enjoyed sleeping long. As a nurse, a good sleep was rare.

With a good mood you danced through the apartment and cleaned it. You checked Jinnies schedule that he had sent you in the past so that you always know where he is and can easily visit him.

Maybe you can watch him practice with his group later in the afternoon since it was a rare occasion due to work. He always loved when you support him. It only makes him more ambitious and hyped he had told you. And the other boys adored you. Especially Felix, Hyunjin's best friend or soulmate like they often state, was fascinated by you. Maybe that's because you lived until you were ten in Australia and then moved with your family to Korea.

He was also the first member Jinnie introduced you to. As his best friend, he knew from your relationship from the beginning and when he finally met you, he was even more convinced that you were the perfect match for Hyunjin.

But also Seungmin was like a brother to you. From the first moment you met the younger boy, you liked him with his cheeky attitude and the sweet toothy smile.

You figured that you should buy the whole group something to drink when you went to the studio. On the way, you stopped at a café and ordered drinks. You just sat in your car once again with the drinks on the passenger seat, when Felix called you.

"What's up, Lix?" You asked and started the car. "Are you coming to today's practice?"

"Yeah, on my way right now. Why?"

"I think Hyunjin is sick. He is totally pale and already vomited"

"I'm coming. I'll be there in 10" you answered concerned. You knew Jinnie. Whenever he is sick, he wants to keep going. He just works him to death because he won't admit that he was ill and needs to rest.

Balancing the nine cups in both hands, you managed to go through the security that already knew you and bid you politely hello and and took the elevator to the floor where the studio was. You already knew the way there after walking it hundreds of times.

In the hallway, you could already hear the music and the squeaking of the shoes. With a foot, you pushed the door open and yelled a greeting over the loud music.

Seeing the drinks in your hands, they quickly scrambled to you in no time and helped you. You spread them and you all sat down. Happily, they drank like they lived in a desert with no water at all.

They all were already sweaty and chatted.

Jinnie kneeled beside you with his americano in one hand as he layed his head against your shoulder.

"Hey baby. Is everything ... was that a shudder?"

You asked him. His clothes were wet with sweat but occasionally he shuddered like he was cold.

Concerned, you placed your drink beside you and touched his forehead to feel how warm he was. And he was warm, it felt like his skin was burning under your touch. A shudder jolted through him again.

"Are you feeling bad? Can it be that your sick Jinnie?" You asked and brushed a stray hair strand back out of his face. Your eyes danced over his pretty face. He was indeed pale.

He just shook his head and murmured that he will go to the bathroom quick. The first steps were staggering but then he felt suddenly nauseous and covered his mouth and paced through the room to get to a washroom. You had observed that and jumped up to follow him.

You found him in the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet, vomiting. He gagged and emptied the contents of his belly. You sat next to him and rubbed his back while his body tensed up with each gag. You brushed soothingly through his wet hair.

Drained out, he leaned against the bowl, taking shaky breaths.

"It's okay, baby." You cooed.

You helped him up after some time and he got rid of the disgusting taste in his mouth through rinsing it out. Some tears ran down his cheeks as he breathed heavily.

"Everything alright?" Chan asked as you two walked back into the room.

"You look like shit" Seungmin stated and continued sipping on his drink. "I'm okay" he answered with a hoarse voice. You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

"Definitely, you didn't just puked your guts out" you said ironically.

"I told you he was ill!" Felix shouted and rubbed your boyfriends shoulder.

"You should rest. You can't dance when you're ill" Chan told him.

"Come, let's go home and rest" You exclaimed and circled his waist with one arm.

Only after the whole group literally forced him to go home, he followed you quietly to your car. You opened the door for him and went to the driver seat to take your poor boyfriend home.

The whole drive was completely quiet as Jinnie rested his head against the window and tried not to get nauseous. He felt bad for leaving practice. With the new comeback, he didn't want to disappoint his fans, his friends and you. Especially not you. You were the most important person to him and you should be proud of him so when someone asks you about him, you should be proud to say that he was your love. That was all he wants.

As you parked the car, you turned to your boyfriend. He was still pale but the nausea seemed to fade. His eyes were closed and even though he looked exhausted, he was like an angel. So beautiful. Though with his newly red dyed hair he looked more like a devil. Just the sweet horns and the tail were missing.

You rounded the car and opened his door. His eyes fluttered open and you smiled. Like a puppy, he followed you to your apartment while you carried his bag.

Unlocking the door, you let him in and took your shoes off. You leaned his bag against the wall.

"Wanna take a shower first?" You questioned because he was still sweaty due to practise and he shouldn't catch an even worse cold. He nodded and went through the hallway to the bedroom to get some comfy new clothes. Meanwhile, you let some water in the bathtub and searched for the bath oil that helps with colds. Immediately, the bath was filled with the smell of eucalyptus and sage.

You gave your boyfriend a kiss on the cheek.

"I'll cook you something light. If anything happens just say something and I'll come" Patting his hair, you leaved the room and started looking through your refrigerator and the kitchen cabinets to see if you had all the ingredients.

Fortunately, you got everything for a chicken soup. You brew a chicken broth with the meat and in the meantime you chopped leek, carrots and celery. Then, you added them to the pan and brought the noodles to boil.

The soup was nearly finished as Hyunjin returned. He circled your waist with his arms and layed his head on his shoulder.

"What's up, baby? Feeling better?" You asked and stirred the soup another time. "Yeah, a bit. Smells great, honey"

"Thank you" He let you go as you turned around to face him. Gently, you touched his forehead to check if he got a fever. And he was indeed burning up. From a cabinet, you took a thermometer and measured his temperature.

"You have a fever, baby" you stated and send him to bed so that he could rest.

Soon, you filled a bowl with soup for him and brought it him along with some medicine against the cold.

He sat up and slowly ate the food. You hoped that he could keep it in his stomach and he didn't need to vomit from it. And he definitely shouldn't take the medication without some food in his belly.

When he was finished, he took the medicine.

"Thanks, honey" he said and gave you a tired smile.

"Wanna watch our series?" You asked and quickly brought the empty dish in the kitchen. You will clean them later, now you wanted to spend time with your love.

He agreed and you took your laptop with you. You jumped beside him under the warm comforter and placed the laptop next to you. You started your current kdrama and cuddled further into the cushion.

Some time passed and Jinnie still held some distance to you. Usually, he would be all over you by now. Slightly, you turned your head and observed your boyfriend. His entire body was under the comforter with only his head out and concentrated on the screen.

"Everything alright?" You asked and he turned his attention to you.

"Yeah, just a bit cold"

You lifted your arm and signalled him to come to you so that you could function as his personal heater.

He shook his head and murmured. "Don't wanna infect you"

You heart swelled at how he still looked out for you. A loving smile danced over your lips.

"Come honey, can't let you freeze. I'll heat you up" Finally, he came closer and layed his head on your chest while his hands caressed your hips.

You touched his forehead to check if his fever was still high. But the medicine seemed to finally kick in. Then, you let your hands travel to his red dyed hair and combed through the silky strands.

He sighed and closed his eyes, enjoying the physical contact.

"I'm sorry" he mentioned after some time. "What?"

"I'm sorry for ruining your day off. You already have enough patients to care for"

"No! You didn't ruin anything!" You held his head in your hands and caressed his cheeks.

"I love to take care of you. In fact, I love to pamper you"

"I love you" he answered and let his hands run up your sides.

"I love you too" you told him and placed a loving peck on his forehead.

[captain-hen]

What do you think are the fandom ~~classic buddie fics?

i think this is a very subjective opinion, but i can tell you which fics i really love and constantly re-read—and which, in my opinion, should be read by everyone in the fandom :)

Leave the Light On (I'll Be Coming Home) by @hmslusitania Rated M | 44k | Completed Summary: An accident on a call leaves Buck with custody of Chris after Eddie is... missing presumed. While they navigate their new family circumstances—and fight to stay together, despite Eddie's parents' best efforts—a John Doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named Christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home.

a bleeding sun on a silver screen by rarakiplin Rated M | 130k | Completed Summary: One day, Buck will tell an interviewer that he would be happy to make movies with Eddie Diaz until the day he dies. But first, years before that, he sees Eddie for the first time on the set of Chimney’s fifth movie. (or, the actors au)

i want your midnights by @littlespoonevan Rated T | 36k | Completed Summary: In which Eddie decides to rent out his spare room to help with mortgage repayments right around the time Buck decides to move out of Abby's place after some not so gentle prodding from Maddie. It's a coincidence. Or serendipity. Or maybe just really good timing.

maybe we'll make something by @buckactuallys Rated E | 76k | Completed Summary: On a road trip with Christopher, Buck and Eddie finally work through their various traumas, and Eddie faces his parents again.

what a heart can do by @bvckandeddie Rated T | 86k | Completed Summary: In which Buck becomes the guardian of the daughter he never knew he had. Together, they discover what happiness truly means to them.

Hot Ghost Problems by ebjameston Rated T | 40k | Completed Summary: Eddie is the newest firefighter at the 118. Buck is the ghost haunting the 118. Unfortunately for both of them, Eddie's also a witch and needs to put Buck's spirit to rest, because that's what witches do. Turns out, Buck's spirit? Super not interested in being put to rest. Very interested, however, in flirting with Firefighter Diaz, who is just trying to survive his candidate year. (Also turns out, Buck? Super not dead.)

Both Blade and Branch by @cal-daisies-and-briars Rated M | 62k | Completed Summary: The chances of being struck by lightning twice are incredibly minute, but Buck still manages to pull it off. During a double date with Marisol and Natalia, nonetheless. Eddie manages to resuscitate him, but as Buck recovers from yet another trauma, Eddie can’t help but notice there’s something very different about him. He’s not quite sure what version of Buck he got back.

we're not in love (but the sex is good) by elless Rated E | 15k | Completed Summary: Eddie is new to LA. Feeling lonely, he goes to a bar for a drink and meets a beautiful stranger that kisses like a dream. What starts as a one night stand quickly moves to frequent no strings sex. When circumstances lead to them spending time together out of bed, Eddie realizes he’s attached to Buck in a way he never planned for.

for all the haunts and homes of men by euadnes Rated M | 113k | Work in Progress Summary: The year by the old calendar is 2025. Home is gone. Home is a failed rescue mission and an echo of a memory. Home is a lost boy living in a wooden house by the sea. But first, there was a promise. Christopher, when it's safe, I'll take you back to your father. Buck had all but given up on keeping it after the world had died and everyone in it. But just as some oaths refuse to be forgotten, so the same can be said about the endurance of love.

things we shouldn't do by Ingu Rated T | 21k | Completed Summary: The one where Buck and Eddie accidentally get set up on a blind date with each other, and everything snowballs from there.

[cera-writes]

"Ma chère, you are mine." 🃏

Part Two

Pairing: Remy "Gambit" LeBeau x F!Reader Tags: slow burn, angst, jealousy Remy never thought there'd be someone else besides Rogue who'd just waltz into his life, but there you were. A/N: This fic is based on episode 5 of X-Men 97. There may be future nsfw themes in later chapters. I'm thinking of making this into three parts at least. Tagged: @lokislittlemouse @give-jack-a-lightsaber

That night, the sky was lit in a cacophony of bursts and particles of light exploding in an array of beautiful colors cascading over Genosha. The fireworks were a sight to see, but so were you.

You had just finished getting ready. You stood in front of a grand mirror in the room you were sharing with Rogue while on your trip in Genosha. A grand window with a balcony overlooked the city below, illuminated by the chasms of light pouring down from the fireworks overhead.

Your dress was a shade of midnight, sparkling with diamonds like stars enmeshed into the fabric. Spaghetti straps adorned your bare shoulders as a plunging neckline accentuated your breasts. The dress fit you like a glove. There was a split up the dress that stretched all the way up the length of your right leg to your mid thigh, daring to show a little skin. It screamed Eclipse, much like your name.

You let your hair fall loosely around your face and wore a tad bit more makeup than usual, to which Rogue helped you with. You were in a state of a much more glamorized version of yourself. Lastly, you slipped your matching black heels on before Rogue walked up behind you.

"Goodness me, if I were a guy I'd be all over you faster than a buzzard on roadkill. You are gorgeous, sugah!" Rogue gandered at you, fanning herself.

You smiled, not helping but to blush at her open-handed compliment. "Thanks girl, but honestly you did most of the work. I was just your canvas."

Rogue scoffed. "Puh-lease. Don't be so hard on yourself. Those men will be all over you tonight. I'm gonna have to practically fight em' off of you." She meant to strike up light-hearted banter with you but you could tell there was something deeper going on that she wasn't opening up about. You could always tell when your best friend had something eating away at her.

"Hey...is something the matter? I can't help but notice that something is off with you tonight, Rogue." You placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Rogue sighed but shook her head. "Don't worry about me sugah. Now, you should get down there. I'll be right behind ya," she tried reassuring you.

You frowned but decided not to pry further, even though you wished she'd open up to you.

You could practically hear the music blaring downstairs in the ballroom even as you sat at your vanity ten floors up.

There was only one man's attention you wanted tonight, but that thought just seemed like wishful thinking.

You checked yourself out in the mirror once more, admiring the shade of rouge that Rogue had adorned your lips with. She really was a treasure and you would never dream of getting in the way of her and Remy if that's what caused her mood to be so sullen.

You also noticed she hadn't slipped into her dress yet. "So...why haven't you gotten ready yet? You know the celebration starts in an hour." You asked Rogue with curiosity lacing your voice.

"There's uh, somethin' I need to talk to Gambit about first." She sighed. You knew it. Your heart sunk. I mean, what'd you expect? Gambit was only here because of Rogue and you were just here because she wanted you to come. But shouldn't she be happy? Maybe something had happened that you had no business interfering with.

You sighed with a breath of indignation. You should be happy that they'd finally get this moment, but you still couldn't help but feel bitter about it all. Rogue was...well, Rogue. She could get anyone she wanted. Even if she weren't able to be physical with Gambit, you knew deep down Gambit didn't care about that even if that was important to Rogue. He was in love with her.

Even so, there were ways of bypassing that kind of situation, even if it was frowned upon by your kind. Honestly, if the two of them were going to be together finally, you would at least make an attempt to drown yourself in liquor with Kurt at the bar. At least you'd forget about it if you drank well enough into the night with your other best friend.

Before you could even glance back at the southern belle, she was already gone. A gust of wind blew through the open window she must have slipped out of while you weren't looking. The curtains bellowed softly in unison as you did a once over in the mirror before heading out of your room.

"It's okay Eclipse...just be happy for them." You told yourself as your heart broke with every step toward the elevator down to the gala.

You reached the bottom floor, making your way toward the grand staircase leading to the open bar and dance floor. The room was grand with numerous glittering chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. You could even spot a few guests hanging around on top of them, idling away in conversations with champagne flutes in hand. There was lively music flooding the open space as you watched people dancing and just overall having the time of their lives.

Despite the fun atmosphere happening around you, you could've waltzed right back to your room and played hermit and pretended that this night hadn't even happened. You felt the complete opposite akin to the atmosphere displayed before you.

And you would have thrown that dress off and undone the pins holding your hair in place if Rogue hadn't already spent an hour on your makeup. You cursed Morph in the back of your mind, knowing they were probably worry free watching crappy horror movies right about now. Gosh how you wished you were back home at the mansion.

You made up your mind that were going to find Kurt and spend the rest of your night dancing and drinking your feelings away. The faster you could forget, the better. Your eyes started scanning for any sign of the blue furball amidst the crowds of people there.

"Who is that? She's gorgeous!" You heard whispers as you descended the staircase. You felt everyone's eyes on you. Were they really talking about you? You weren't used to the attention at all like this. You couldn't help but smirk at the gawking but quickly shook your head. It didn't matter what they thought.

You weren't there tonight to find someone lucky enough to take back up to your room. No one else mattered to you. The only man that held your heart in his hands was breaking it anyway. You could live with yourself if that meant Remy was happy no matter how bad it hurt.

You had to suck it up. There was no point wallowing in this self pity bullshit anymore tonight. At least you'd convinced yourself of that much.

Your heels finally collided with the smooth tiles of the bottom floor. You nearly sighed in relief upon seeing a mop of black hair and blue skin cutting it up on the dance floor. "There he is," you smiled, making a beeline straight for Nightcrawler. At least he seemed to be having a blast. You needed some of that energy he was exuding.

"Eclipse! Oh Mein Gott! You look...breathtaking!" He immediately found you, eyes wide at your alluring appearance before teleporting right in front of you as you joined him over on the dance floor alongside a few others who were moving to the beat of the music.

"No, really! You are stunning tonight!" He grinned, taking your hand a placing a kiss on top of it. You face couldn't deny or hide the sudden heat from his sweet comment about you. "Thanks, Kurt."

"Gern geschehen," he bowed, offering a kind smile in return. "I thought you'd be here with Gambit, no?" He looked puzzled as he glanced behind you for any sign of the cajun man.

"Guess he's still getting ready," you shrugged indignantly, but you knew the truth anyway even if that was a half lie. You wanted to change the subject but you saw the concern in Kurt's expression as he watched your face.

"Look, meine Freundin, I know things with Gambit can be-"

But he didn't get to finish that sentence before you pulled him back into the crowd of people dancing, much to his surprise.

Nope, you did not want to have that conversation tonight.

"Let's just dance, okay?" you changed the subject as you started swaying to the beat of the music. Nightcrawler merely nodded, not wanting to pry but nonetheless twirled you around on the dance floor in compliance as you simply just let loose and tried forgetting about everything even if just for a moment.

The two of you danced for a while, just having fun. You were actually having so much fun in the moment with Kurt that you almost didn't notice that familiar reddish brown hair slicked back so handsomely, or the way his white suit clung to him in all the right ways. He was sitting at the bar having a drink just as Madelyne Pryor had made her way over to stand next to him.

Nightcrawler noticed you, too distracted to continue your dance with him and smiled. "You should go to him. I'll be right here if you need me." He cocked his furry head towards where Gambit was at the bar.

You sighed and swallowed the damn near painful lump in your throat as you started taking that first step towards Remy. But as soon as you did, you immediately paused to look up.

There, flying gracefully in as a grand gesture, was Rogue.

Her hair was done up around her face with a few loose strands hanging down and her dress was a scarlet shade accentuated with off shoulder straps of baby pinks that hung loosely down her arms.

But what you really noticed was that she wasn't wearing her usual gloves for some reason. It didn't matter because she was absolutely stunning.

You were sure she was going to find Remy and meet up with him below, but nothing could have prepared you for what she did next.

You watched as she flew directly towards Magneto, meeting him skin to skin as their hands touched, electricity igniting at their intimacy. Your jaw slightly slackened at the scene above as if they were dancing like two star crossed lovers for everyone to see. It was if it was a deliberate display of affection between them.

You dared to look at Remy, who was still standing over by the bar. And boy, did he look pissed. He was watching them with nothing but pure hurt and anguish behind his eyes. Even Madelyne had turned to cast him a look of pity.

You were just as confused.

Your eyes glanced back towards the two lovers trapped in what seemed like an intense tango of sorts. Then it happened. Their lips were locked in a passionate kiss.

You placed a hand over your mouth in disbelief at what you were witnessing, surely having thought Rogue had spoken to Gambit earlier to confess her feelings.

Apparently you were way the hell off about your assumptions.

When you looked back in Remy's direction, he was already gone.

You had to find him.

Your feet quickly shuffled through crowds of onlookers as 'Happy Nation' continued playing loudly through the expansive room. You never were really a fan of Ace of Base anyway.

You needed to find Remy and fast.

The air inside was becoming too hot and stifling. 'If I were Remy, where would I run off to?'

The gardens.

You knew he'd have gone outside to get some air and clear his head so that's exactly where you were headed.

You ran out into the open cool air towards the giant fountain settled in the middle of a courtyard of square hedges and roses.

The fountain was lit up in blue lights, just enough to make out the man sitting alone with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth as he sat perched on the side.

Remy.

"Hey stranger," you timidly spoke up, easing your way towards him.

He blew out a puff of smoke and glanced in your direction.

"Hey chere," he couldn't help but smile softly upon seeing you, even if he felt like absolute shit in that moment.

"Mind if I pop a squat next to you?" You inquired, approaching the matter with as much gentleness as you could knowing what just transpired.

"I ain't stopping you," Remy simply remarked.

You delicately sat next to him, feeling the heat radiating off of him as your shoulders touched slightly.

You were about to bring up how he was feeling but he was the one who initiated first.

"Can you believe it?" He scoffed, taking another drag of his cigarette as the ashes singed.

"Honestly, no." You replied, shaking your head incredulously as you gazed up at the night sky as trails of smoke drifted upwards into the balmy night air.

"I'm so so sorry, Remy."

You laid your head on his shoulder. You knew the pain was still fresh and still stung so you didn't want to talk about anything unless he wanted to initiate that conversation first. You just wanted to be there for him like you always did in the past. He was your best friend and you never wanted that to change.

He shook his head once more before tossing the cigarette on the ground and stomping it out with his shoe.

"That flame has long since died I think...but there's somethin' else too. It made ol' Gambit realize that he's been runnin' from his past too long. He was chasin' somethin' that wasn't ever meant to be his in the first place. They always say you find peace in the most unsightliness of places."

You didn't know what he was getting at but your heart was beating ninety to zero right now. You couldn't dare look at him in fear that you might say something you'll regret. Your head stayed rested against his shoulder as you played with your hands on your lap.

"I think I've had peace this whole time. It was always there, offering a shoulder to cry on or just a hand to hold," He laughed softly in disbelief as if finally coming to a revelation.

"Ma chere, you are mine."

Your eyes widened, heart hammering in your chest, and your relaxed posture had gone rigid as he confessed those words. Those words that held so much meaning. Your eyes pricked with tears as you slowly leaned away to finally face him.

He was smiling at you so tenderly that you could've melted from his gaze right there.

But no sooner did you have time to react to his meaningful words before the sound of ear piercing screams filled the air and everything came crashing down in a literal cloud of smoke and dust.

All you could see was darkness as chaos ensued.

Sentinels.

A/N: I hope ya'll enjoyed part two! I'll be working on part three tomorrow! Leave me comments <3

[maidragoste]

Babysitter

Larys Strong x Velaryon!Reader

Summary: Larys was thinking about spending a quiet afternoon alone with his wife but Jacaerys ruins his plans.

Modern AU where Sea Dragon was never with Harwin and she is married to Larys. Nobody asked for this but I'm a bitch for Larys and Sea Dragon so I wrote it. The truth is that I really enjoyed writing about them being domestic, please if you liked it, don't hesitate to comment, like or REBLOG 🥰💖💖

My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions 🤭🥰

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

When Larys entered, the first thing that caught his attention was that the house was silent instead of listening to the music that you usually played when you were at home. The second thing was that when Nightwing, your dog, went to meet him excitedly at the entrance and started barking, you asked him to stop, which was strange because Nightwing always did that and a long time ago the both accepted that she wouldn't stop doing it.

And the third thing was that a minute after Nightwing barked a baby cry was heard. As soon as he heard it Larys thought about opening the door again and leaving, maybe if he took Nightwing's leash and took her for a walk you wouldn't be upset with him for leaving but he doubted it. So he finished taking off his coat and tried to calm the dog by petting it as he headed to the kitchen.

"Hi," you greeted him and your husband turned to see you smiling at him from the living room. Despite the small tantrum a few seconds ago you looked happy to have their nephew Jacaerys in your arms "Harwin and Rhaenyra needed some time alone so I offered to take care of him"

He shouldn't be surprised. Lately every time the both went shopping you always "coincidentally" passed by the baby clothes section and stopped there for a while while you cooed just how small and cute the clothes are. Sometimes you even end up buying some compulsively. Not only that, every time you received a new photo of Jacaerys or your cousins' children you let out an "aww" and excitedly showed him the photos. When you two went to the park to take Nightwing out and you found a baby you started making faces at them until you managed to make them laugh. And now you were offering to take care of Jacaerys. He had a suspicion that you have baby fever.

"For how long?" he asked, hoping it would be an hour or two at most, he didn't want to spend the rest of the day with his nephew. When Larys got off work he had planned to come home and relax with you. He hoped they could take a bath together and then order something for dinner at that restaurant you like while watching some reality show.

"Just for a few hours"

Larys took the kettle out of the fire before it started making a lot of noise and Jacaerys would get scared.

"How many?" He asked, knowing that he wouldn't like the answer because you weren't being specific for some reason.

"They'll probably come looking for him at midnight" you responded and pouted as you heard the exasperated sigh your husband let out "Don't be like that, Jace is happy to see you" You went to sit on the couch when you saw that Larys entered the living room with two cups of tea.

"How do you know? He can't talk" Larys scoffed as he put the cups on the table. Nightwing, seeing that he sat down, instantly lay down on the floor.

"He crawled all over the house looking for you" you responded with a smile and you saw that the baby was starting to get restless so you left him on the carpet with his toys.

"You're talking shit"

"Larys! Language!" you scolded him, lamely, slapping him on the shoulder.

"He can't talk," your husband responded, rolling his eyes.

Larys really thought that you were lying and that you told him that hoping that it would warm him and maybe make him want to have a child. But it was obvious that you weren't lying because Jacaerys barely spent a minute with the toy before crawling to his side and starting to tug at his pants. Larys had never held a cup of tea so tightly, he was afraid that at some point it would fall and burn the child. The last thing he wanted was to end up going to the hospital. Besides, his brother would kill him for hurting Jacaerys.

Larys gave you an annoyed look as she placed the cup on the table.

"I told you he wanted to spend time with you" you scoffed but you took pity on him because you sat on the rug and got the baby's attention by making noise with one of his toys.

Jacaerys loosened his grip on the pants but he still seemed hesitant to let go.

“It's okay, Jace, your uncle isn't going anywhere. You can play with him later” you reassured him and the baby finally let go of his pants to go with you. You welcomed him with open arms and kissed his forehead.

“Don't lie to him, I'm not going to play with him,” your husband said as he took the cup back.

“Larys, stop being an ogre and enjoy your nephew's company.” There was no harshness in your voice but he knew you were serious.

He rolled his eyes and started drinking his tea. You managed to distract the baby by playing with him so Larys could enjoy his tea in peace. Your husband admired you as you responded to Jace's babbling as if it were a real conversation. Jace gave you one of his toys, which he had just slobbered on, but you didn't seem disgusted but instead concentrated on cooing and congratulating him for being so good and wanting to share his toy. You would be a good mother. He could imagine you doing the same with their children.

“Your tea is going to get cold,” Larys reminded you when he saw that your cup was still intact.

“It's okay, I can make another one later.”

But Larys knew you wouldn't. “Give it to me and have your tea,” he asked. You handed him, Jace, carefully and watched with a smile as your husband took the baby without hesitation, unlike the first few times he seemed hesitant before Harwin or Rhaenyra handed Jace to him. “The tea,” Larys repeated with a small smile when he noticed the way you looked at him. Maybe it wasn't so bad that Jace came. He instantly retracted that thought when his nephew started pulling his hair. “Harwin is raising a savage.”

“Don't be exaggerated,” you said, feeling warm from the view in front of you more than from the tea.

Later when Nightwing starts crying and staring at the door Larys, who ends up agreeing to “play” with Jacaerys just because she wants to spend time with you, gets up to go take the dog out. He watches with amusement as Jace begins to crawl with the intention of following his uncle but he is too slow so when he reaches the hallway where the door is he just sees Larys close the door and bursts into tears. You will instantly take him in your arms to comfort him. The door opens again and Larys enters again with Nightwing but Jace continues crying.

“Let's wrap him up so he can come with us,” your husband said as he approached you. “You're too annoying.” There's no malice in Larys' voice or when he pokes the baby's cheek with his finger. “Remind me to ask my father if Harwin was as crybaby as Jace when he was a baby,” he tells you as he takes his nephew away from you so that you can look in the bag that Rhaenyra had left you for some warm clothes.

“I will,” you say and give him a small kiss on the cheek before going to get the clothes.

You and Larys manage to quickly dress Jace under the pressure of Nightwing's crying. Any trace of distress on Jace's part disappears the moment you and Larys settle him into The Kangaroo Carry being carried by Larys. Your husband is struck by the fact that out of nowhere there is a baby carrier in the house, but he doesn't say anything, thinking that surely Rhaenyra left it or you bought it for future visits from Jace or your cousin's children.

Once Nightwing relieves her, instead of returning home, the both decide to go to the park that is close to home for a while. This time you are not the one who coos or makes faces at strangers' babies but the other way around. Larys would be lying if he said he didn't like hearing how people said you four looked like a sweet family. If your purpose with Jacaerys's visit was to get him into the idea of having their own child then you had achieved it.

Hours later, Jacaerys has just left with his parents and Larys is sitting exhausted on the couch hugging you around the waist. The television is on but he is not paying attention to the program rather he is looking at you. Your eyes are lighting up and you have a smile on your face as you look through your phone at all the photos you took today of the two of you with Jace.

“You know, if you want a baby you just had to tell me,” he said, catching your attention.

For a moment you look at him surprised but then you laugh and lean in to kiss him. Larys feels how all the tiredness in his body magically disappears while he savors the sweetness of your lips. But Larys definitely feels more awake when you whisper on his lips, “I'm already pregnant, you fool.”

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[talesofesther]

scorch marks | ch 1

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Series Summary: Wednesday has been careful to keep what you two have behind closed doors and far away from labels; but when someone starts to take it — take you — away from her, she realizes how much she cares.

Requested by anons: one, two, and three.

A/N: Yes, I combined three requests here. It was a bit of a challenge to make these requests and keep Wednesday in character, but I truly hope I'm doing an okay job; let me know. <3

Masterlist

You're drowning in a sea of lavender.

There's a mix of dust there too, given the forgotten shelves, brooms, and crates of the small storage room, but her perfume still fills your nostrils. It gets you thinking of white and purple orchids under a midnight moon.

Maybe too soft for Wednesday Addams. But what is she now, if not soft?

Her lips, plush and purposeful against yours, leave tiny smudges of burgundy lipstick on the corner of your mouth every time she pulls away to gasp for air. Her hands, cold and precise, keep your body in place; one grasping onto your jacket, the other disappearing beneath it, leaving goosebumps on your hip in its wake. Her bangs brush against your forehead when she tilts her head, so close it gets you shivering.

There's a delicacy to her that shouldn't be there but is anyway. So could she blame you? For associating her with everything beautiful and enchanting in the world?

You bring a hand up to her jaw as you hear the commotion outside, telling you that it's time to go. And you think to yourself; just one more minute.

Wednesday is the first to pull away, slowly as her blown pupils travel down to your reddish lips and back up to your eyes. She gulps, setting her jaw into something sharp as her chin angles up. The fingertips that had been touching your waist let go in a lazy motion.

Her hair is a bit of a mess and it's your fault — the light is dim in the small room, casting an orange glow that makes you squint to see — you make to tuck it behind her ear, but she takes half a step away from you as if abruptly waking up from a dream.

You're familiar with her, honestly, in such a way you never thought you would be. Even before the whole deal with the Hyde attacks and Crackstone, your relationship with Wednesday had a constant push and pull; as the tides do with the shells that rest too close to shore. You didn't know exactly where you stood with her when she said you were nothing but an inconvenience in her mystery, but came running when Thornhill shot you; all wobbly chin and glistening eyes, repeating like a mantra that you weren't allowed to close your eyes — you didn't see her for two months after that, and when the classes came back, it took one more month for her to steal her first kiss with you. That was three weeks ago.

With a careful thumb, Wednesday cleaned the smudged lipstick below her lower lip. Your eyes followed the movement as you stuffed your hands in your pockets. For some reason it got you smiling, faintly so.

"Don't come out right after me." Was all Wednesday told you before reaching for the door handle.

You snapped out of your daze; "but I have to go-" the door slammed as she walked outside, her footsteps mingling with all the others, "to class too." You finished in a lower tone to yourself.

Wednesday walked briskly through Nevermore's hallways, not once looking back while she put as much distance between her and her demise as she could. Being alone — as alone as one could be in a school filled with outcasts — was such a desperation that she only noticed her missing backpack when she was already halfway to class.

She came to a sudden halt, her boots scratching the stone floor and causing a couple of gorgons to almost topple over her, but she didn't move an inch. With a side gaze, Wednesday glanced behind her. There were no familiar faces in the crowd, but she caught herself looking for one.

If her parents could see her now, they wouldn't believe their eyes. Maybe they'd be happy, that she's finally forging relationships. But could it be a good thing? Is the constant twisting and turning of her stomach a good thing? Is it healthy that, most nights as she lays in her bed, she spends the minutes before sleep thinking about it?

What does it mean, that ever since Wednesday came back to this school after saving it, a new character has been introduced in her novel; and with each page that's filled in her typewriter, she gets closer to Viper?

No one got Wednesday feeling the way she did when she was with you. Not even Tyler, and she kissed him; so was it bad that she's been doing the same with you? A big part of her screamed yes, the other, not so much. And those two wolves inside her chest were still fighting.

Wednesday could recall in detail the first time she kissed you; of course, it's not even been a month yet. But she fears that even if it had been years, decades, the memory would still be intact.

She remembers that Eugene had gone away to pick something up, leaving only you and her in the bee shed. You had been rambling about a new small group of bees you recently rescued and how they now needed a new Queen; you just kept talking and talking, until the words became background noise and the fluttering of your lashes seemed almost in slow motion. Wednesday had been inching closer yet neither of you noticed, not until she ended up with one hand behind your neck, her lips doing quick work of shutting you up.

To this day she's not sure why she did it. But there was this force, this annoying pull to you that got her chest hurting if she didn't comply. The pain was almost as forceful as the one she felt with the sight of your abdomen oozing blood from the bullet wound, with the dropping of a single tear when she imagined herself wearing black in your honor.

You got her breaking her own rules, you became her favorite secret and sin, because Wednesday was quick to get addicted to the thrill of it. One kiss turned into two, that turned into three, until behind every closed door she left scorch marks in her own cold heart.

She never put a name to it, and you didn't either. It was never discussed what was happening between you two, and Wednesday liked it this way. What's not set in stone can't come back to hurt her, or break her trust.

There was only one problem though. Little sparks of flame in the moments that got Wednesday's skin filling with goosebumps. It was the way you traced the outline of her lips with your thumb, gentle as if she'd break in your hold; the pulse of her own heart in her ears when her body was glued to yours; the brief look you get in your eyes as soon as she pulls away, as if she hung up the goddamn moon. Those are the things that swing too close to reality, too close to inflicting damage, and got her blood running cold. They remind Wednesday why emotions come with a price, and why she needs to keep her distance.

Ultimately, Wednesday decides that she doesn't need her backpack anyway.

—

You get to the anatomy class ten minutes late. The door creaks when you open it, causing everyone to look at you. You grimace, mumbling an apology through pursed lips.

There's a skeleton of a werewolf in a large print over the board, beside it there's a smaller one of a gorgon and then a vampire, and so on. Though anatomy is not your favorite subject, this is one of your favorite classrooms, it has huge windows on one side and most of them have an array of plants enjoying the sunlight that shines there. The teacher — an older, kind woman with a light blue dress — is separating small cutouts of paper in a bowl, mixing them up together, and it reminds you that today will be the draw of subjects for your assignment.

You walk quietly between the tables of your colleagues, carrying your bag over your shoulder and Wednesday's black leather backpack in your hands.

Her dark eyes shift to you when you stop beside her. You smile something shy, dropping her backpack by her feet before you walk over to your table and sit down. Wednesday shows no reaction to it other than the way she follows you with her eyes, but you don't mind, quickly diving into conversation with your partner in class, Yoko.

You and Yoko have been thick as thieves since you came to Nevermore three years ago, she was the first one you befriended; Enid came right after, but Yoko was still the one you partnered with in most classes.

Right now you dug your teeth into your lower lip as you fished for one of the folded papers the teacher had in the bowl, and when you picked up the one that read vampire, you couldn't help but squeal in happiness. It was one of the easiest ones to work with.

Wednesday watched with hawk eyes as you smiled big, your hand grabbing onto Yoko's arm when you showed her the subject of your assignment.

There was a pink pencil being twirled between Wednesday's fingers, her black nails scraping its color each time she huffed angrily. Her jaw was clenched, almost painfully so; because the girl with the round sunglasses shouldn't be leaning this close to you. When Yoko's hand covered your own — her thumb gingerly brushing over your knuckles as her fangs appeared in her smirk — the pencil Wednesday held in her hand snapped in half with a sharp sound.

"Hey!" Enid swatted at Wednesday's shoulder, pouting as she looked down at the now-ruined pink pencil, "that was one of my favorites."

Wednesday let go of it, letting both parts roll on the table; "it's just a piece of wood, Enid," she grumbled.

"Yeah well, it was my piece of wood," Enid's eyebrows had an annoyed crease to them, her lower lip jutted out as she looked at Wednesday, "what's got you grumpier than usual?"

Wednesday let out an indignant scoff, forcing her eyes away from you because each time you touched Yoko, her murderous intent grew, though she wouldn't admit or acknowledge it yet. She was above such trivial feelings — or so she hoped. "I'm not grumpy, Enid," she said pointedly, picking up a paper from the bowl without looking at it, "just felt like breaking something."

Enid's sudden giddy gasp got Wednesday flinching slightly, the folded paper being snatched from her hands before she even fully opened it.

"Oh yes, we got werewolves! That's me." The blonde took hold of Wednesday's shoulder, shaking her slightly, "this is going to be so much fun."

Wednesday huffed sharply, her bangs going side to side because of Enid's excitement. Her gaze shifted to you against her own volition and she was met with you already looking at her; it got her straightening on her seat, her hands fisting the fabric of her skirt. But a hand touched your shoulder, and you turned away promptly.

Your cheeks molded all prettily around your smile, and Wednesday watched as you put a hand in your heart, making a silly show of bowing to Yoko — as best as you could sitting so damn close to her.

It made no sense to Wednesday that her chest felt hollow; that she had the sudden urge to throw the vampire girl in a pool of garlic just so she could take her place beside you. Because lately that's been her new normal, and now that someone seems to be taking it from her, she's realizing how much she actually cares.

————

The weekend came sooner than you thought it would. Ever since taking your subject in the anatomy class, you've been spending most of your free time with Yoko, and so far you've written down most of the particularities of a vampire's body — mainly the fangs honestly.

But today was your free free day, which meant going down to the lake, which got pretty busy on days like this; where the sky is basically free of clouds and the warm sun is shining down on the green fields outside the school walls.

The water was glistening brightly, and there was a slight breeze in the wind that got the leaves rustling around you. Basically, everyone was out because of the perfect weather, students were swimming on the lake, reading, practicing archery, or just walking by the shore. You were enjoying a bit of peaceful time — that is, until a splash of water came over you.

You sat up abruptly from your place under the huge willow tree, the picnic blanket wrinkling under you. Cleaning the droplets of water from your sunglasses — Yoko's extra sunglasses actually, that you shamelessly snatched — you shouted; "watch it, Xavier, some people wanna remain dry."

The boy in question had just emerged from his jump, shoulder deep into the lake and squinting at you because of the sunlight in his eyes, "sorry, my bad," he chuckled, swatting away his long hair, now dripping wet.

"I'm telling you, the guy's got a crush on you since your first year."

Your head snapped to Yoko, who lay just beside you. Leaning back on your elbows, you picked at a few loose strands of the red and white blanket beneath you; "Xavier? No, no way."

There was a nest of birds on the branches above you, you could hear the mother calling out to her babies, loud and sharp. You caught a glimpse of her feathers when she flew, white and blue.

Yoko followed your gaze, her eyebrows scrunching as she searched for the bird; "hm yeah, I'm pretty sure."

With a thud, you let yourself fall down flat on the blanket, your head hitting the softness the grass under it provided. "No, come on. Besides, he's not even my type."

That sparked Yoko's attention, she propped herself up on one elbow, turning to you so she could look down at you better. "Who is your type then?" She raised a perfectly styled eyebrow, her dark sunglasses mixing well with the darker lipstick.

You could feel your cheeks automatically heating up. You thought of raven black hair, soft skin that's a little cold under your touch, and eyes so dark you swear you can see galaxies in them.

"Maybe a certain gloomy, cold-hearted Addams?" Yoko suggested with a shit-eating grin before you could answer, gingerly twirling a strand of your hair between her fingers.

You chuckled, one hand coming up to cover your eyes as you bit the inside of your cheek; "stop it, that's not-"

"Not accurate?"

"Not that simple."

Yoko hummed, taking a sip of her cold drink before laying back down, her shoulder brushing yours. "You've been dancing around each other for so long, I wouldn't even be surprised if she got you a valentine's gift."

"She wouldn't," you mumbled.

"You deserve someone who would, though," Yoko told you, turning her head to you, "hope she knows that."

Without meeting her gaze, you tangled your hand with the vampire's, giving a soft squeeze to let her know you agreed.

Yoko groaned playfully, her finger tapping yours; "alright, stop sulking. I catch her looking at you way too often that it's like, impossible it doesn't mean anything."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and Enid keeps asking if there's something between you two already."

The sunlight started to peek through the leaves, you raised a hand to play with its light, faintly hearing Enid's panicked gibberish before Ajax threw her on the lake, his own splash coming right after. You sighed, closing your eyes; "it's… complicated."

Not even ten seconds after you spoke, the sunlight vanished completely as a shadow was cast upon you. You frowned, noticing a smidge of darkness over your eyelids; you opened your eyes to see Wednesday standing right beside you, gazing down at you with a scowl on her features that even got you a bit worried for your safety.

You pushed your sunglasses up and propped yourself on your elbows, looking at her through your lashes; "Wednesday, hey. Everything alright?" As happy as you were to see her, it wasn't common for her to join you all on the lake.

Wednesday's focus changed between you and Yoko carefully, her bangs getting messy with the wind; she looked like a painting, like something worthy of being in a museum. You could easily lose yourself just by looking at her but before it happened, Wednesday blinked, moving her gaze away from you, and said; "I need you for something, let's go," her tone tight.

And with that, she was taking purposeful steps away from you and towards the woods. Your lips hung open for a second, something seemed off.

"Doesn't look complicated to me." Yoko teased with a chuckle.

"Shut up." You grumbled before scrambling to your feet and jogging towards Wednesday, quickly falling into step beside her.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 2 here

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