#my voice will be suppressed disappear without a trace

[nishibai]

i downloaded block blast :drool:

[suunani]

morning to stay ( yang jungwon )

▍ neither you nor jungwon wants to leave the bed.

content : 1400 words, male reader, boyfriend!jungwon, fluff fluff and only fluff again, lazy morning cuddles, lot of kisses.

the soft glow of the morning sun spilled through the blinds, warming the air and softly illuminating the mess of blankets that wrapped around the two of you.

you lay still, watching the golden light dance across the edges of jungwon's face.

his cheek was pressed against your chest, one hand gripping the fabric of your shirt as if afraid you might disappear. his breathing was slow and even, his soft exhales tickling the hollow of your neck.

you had been awake for a while now, but you didn’t dare move too much in case it disturbed him. you couldn't — not when he was lying so peacefully against you.

there was a rare kind of serenity in moments like these, when the world outside felt miles away and all you could think about was how lucky you were to have him here.

jungwon shifted slightly in his sleep, letting out a small sigh. his nose scrunched up in that way you adored, and you had to resist the urge to kiss it.

but of course, your resolve didn't last long.

you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. then, unable to help yourself, you moved to his temple, then his nose, then the corner of his mouth.

each kiss was delicate, almost reverent, and you could feel the tiniest smile form on his lips even though his eyes were still closed.

"mmm," he hummed, his voice muffled and raspy with sleep. "what are you doing?"

"good morning, sleepyhead," you whispered, your lips brushing against his hairline.

"not morning," he mumbled, shifting closer to you. "still sleepy."

you chuckled, your arms tightening around him as your fingers traced gentle patterns along his back.

"it's morning," you said softly, your lips now grazing the top of his head. "but we don't have to get up yet."

"good," jungwon said, his voice muffled against your chest. "don't wanna move."

"me neither," you admitted, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. "you're too comfy."

jungwon’s lips curved into a sleepy smile, but he didn’t bother replying.

he curled closer, his leg tangling with yours under the blanket, and you took the opportunity to let your hands wander, running them down his back, then up to his shoulders, then back again.

his body was warm, soft against yours, and you found yourself pulling him even closer, wrapping both arms around him.

you couldn't get enough of him.

touching him was like second nature for you, as essential as breathing.

after a few moments, jungwon lifted his head slightly, squinting up at you with one eye open.

"what time is it?"

"almost nine," you said, pressing your hand lightly against the small of his back.

"too early," he groaned, his face scrunching up in mock protest. "tell the sun to go away."

you smirked. "sure thing baby. let me just grab my intergalactic sun-remote real quick."

"idiot," he muttered with a little chuckle.

jungwon tried to suppress a smile, but you caught it before he could hide it. feeling bold, you leaned back slightly and gave him a mischievous grin.

"what?" he asked, his sleepy voice tinged with suspicion.

"nothing," you said, though you were clearly lying.

carefully, you loosened your hold just enough to shift. jungwon barely had time to react before you rolled him onto his back and climbed on top of him, your knees bracketing his hips.

"y/n!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide as he squirmed beneath you. "what are you doing?"

"appreciating my perfect boyfriend," you said with a grin, your hands settling on his waist. "you're just so cute, i can't help myself."

“appreciating me doesn’t mean tackling me!” he protested, though his voice cracked slightly as a laugh bubbled up, his hands weakly pushing at your shoulders.

"oh, it absolutely does," you declared dramatically.

then, without giving him a chance to escape, you leaned down and began attacking his face with kisses.

you started with his forehead, then moved your way down to his cheeks, his nose, his temples, and even his jawline.

each kiss was exaggerated and accompanied by loud smooching sounds, and jungwon's laughter grew louder and more frantic with every passing second.

"stop!" he cried, his voice high-pitched from giggling. "it tickles!"

"that’s the point," you said, grinning as you kissed the corners of his mouth. "how else am i supposed to make my pretty boyfriend laugh first thing in the morning?"

"y/n, i can't breathe!" jungwon wheezed, his laughter spilling out uncontrollably.

you finally relented, pulling back just enough to let him breathe, though not before planting one final kiss right in the corner of his left eye.

jungwon's face was flushed, his hair sticking up in every direction, and he looked absolutely radiant. you cupped his cheek, brushing your thumb across his warm skin, and leaned down to press a gentler kiss to his lips.

"you're insane," he said, though the fondness in his voice was impossible to miss.

"isn’t why you fell for me?" you said, resting your hands on either side of his face.

"it is," he admitted softly, his hands finding their way to your wrists. "but you're still insane."

you leaned down and kissed him properly this time, your lips meeting his in a soft, lingering embrace. it was a stark contrast to the playful chaos from earlier, but it was just as perfect.

when you pulled back, jungwon let out a small sigh, his hands sliding up to rest on your shoulders.

"you're heavy," he said, though there was no real complaint in his voice.

"lies," you said, grinning. "i'm just the right weight for this."

he rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face never wavered. "you're lucky i love you."

"i really am," you said sincerely, leaning down to rest your forehead against his.

for a while, neither of you moved. the sunlight continued to creep across the bed, but you paid it no mind.

your hands wandered idly along jungwon's sides, his arms, and his waist, as if you were memorizing (again) every inch of him.

eventually, you rolled off him and pulled him back into your arms, your legs tangling together once more. jungwon settled against your chest with a content sigh, your fingers traced idle patterns along his back, and his fingers tracing lazy circles on your forearm.

“what do you want to do today?” you asked, your voice quiet so as not to break the spell.

“this,” jungwon said simply, his voice muffled against your chest. “i don’t want to go anywhere. i just want to stay here with you.”

you smiled, pressing another kiss to the top of his head.

“i like that plan.”

jungwon shifted slightly, looking up at you again.

"what do you think everyone else is doing right now?" he asked after a while, his voice quiet.

"probably being responsible adults," you said with a laugh, brushing your thumb against his hip. "getting up, being productive, making plans for the day."

"sounds boring," jungwon said, snuggling closer to you.

"totally boring," you agreed.

he tilted his head up to look at you again, his expression thoughtful. "do you think we're being lazy?"

"definitely," you said with a lazy smile. "but it's a sunday. we're allowed to be lazy."

jungwon hummed in agreement, his eyes fluttering shut again.

"let's never leave this bed," he mumbled, his words slurring slightly as sleep crept back in.

"you don't have to tell me twice," you said, pressing a kiss to his hair.

the two of you stayed like that for what felt like hours, just holding each other and talking about anything and everything.

you told him about a funny dream you’d had, and he teased you about your bad habit of kicking the covers off in your sleep. he told you about a random memory from his childhood, and you laughed so hard you nearly cried.

and then, just like that, the day stretched on, but neither of you cared.

the world outside could wait.

for now, all that mattered was the warmth of the blankets, the sound of jungwon's laughter still echoing in your mind, and the way his body always fit perfectly against yours.

and in that exact moment, you knew that nothing else un the world mattered as long as you had the love of your life in your arms.

[ddarker-dreams]

A Fool's Errand.

Yan Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, imbalanced power dynamics, alcohol mention/consumption, not SFW implications. Word count: 2.1k.

“Now that’s a scary look.” 

Ice cubes clink together as you stir your drink, feigning an air of indifference. The warm pinks swirl in a hypnotizing display. Golden flecks catch the room’s sparse lighting, shimmering within the miniature whirlpool. 

You return your focus to the reflection in your pocket mirror. 

The countenance that greets you is both familiar and foreign. Color is infused into your lips, brushed along your cheeks, and blended atop your eyelids. It’d been a while since you had applied makeup, but the muscle memory kicked in eventually. After some touch-ups, you found the results satisfactory. From this vantage point, you can admire your décolleté, complemented by a dainty choker with a butterfly charm. 

You can also see a pair of eyes staring back at you. 

You clasp the mirror shut, wishing the shadowy apparition would disappear.

Instead, it creeps closer, footsteps echoing throughout the empty room. 

You sip your concoction. It’s tart, with a splash of sweetness that soon fades into a bitter aftertaste. A hazy warmth swaddles your mind in a tight embrace. 

Blade materializes beside you like a phantom coming to life. His presence is heavy and impossible to ignore, but you try your best. He’s frowning, almost glaring at you, the skin beneath his eyes wrinkled in displeasure. Your continued apathy does little to soothe the brewing tension. 

This time, it’s him who breaks the silence. 

“How much have you had to drink?”

“This is my third glass,” you admit. His eyebrows scrunch together. “I thought you’d come faster.” 

“If you anticipated your failure, why bother?” 

“I dunno. Curiosity? Boredom?” Your finger traces the drink’s rim. Suppressing a wicked smile, you add, “Maybe I wanted to find a date.” 

For a fleeting instant, it’s like the room’s oxygen rushed out at once, leaving you to asphyxiate. Your eyes tell a different story — nothing’s changed, at least, not physically — aside from his pupils shrinking to a pinprick’s size. Faintly, what remains of your cognition advises against poking the beast. You’ve already done enough. In the coming days, you’re likely to regret this entire escapade. 

However, your present self finds immense satisfaction in spewing petty jabs. 

“Be mindful of your tongue, girl.” 

Blade’s timbre is dark and gravelly. Shivers envelop your body, which you chase off with another hearty drink. His eyes follow your throat as you gulp the liquid down. They remain fixated there for an unnerving few seconds. Shifting around in your seat, it’s growing harder to deny the magnitude of who you’re dealing with. His suffocating favor doesn’t grant you absolute immunity. 

You try reaching for another sip, only for him to stop you. 

“That’s enough,” he says. His grip around your wrist tightens when you try wrenching it free. “We’re heading back.” 

Heading back. To the life of a fugitive, forever on the run, wreaking chaos wherever he and his band of clairvoyant criminals set foot. It isn’t an alluring prospect. This brief stint has been the longest you’ve gone without constant surveillance. Even if it’s a fleeting illusion, destined to slip through your fingers, you want to hold on just a bit longer. 

The alcohol flowing through your system further emboldens you. “You wanna end our date so fast?” 

This little provocation seemingly accomplishes the impossible — it throws Blade off guard. 

“‘Our?’” He repeats, the upward inflection uncharacteristic of his monotonous voice. 

“I was lookin’ for a date and you happened to come along, so yeah, why not?” You say it as if it’s the most obvious thing. He blinks. “What? Am I not pretty enough?” 

Blade’s lips part and close in rapid succession. He knows what you’re doing, you know that he knows what you’re doing, yet your flirtations still have a visible effect. His body’s gone stiff and his jaw’s set, like he’s concentrating greatly. You hear his leather glove creak as he clenches and unclenches his fists. 

Leaning onto the counter, you look up at him through your eyelashes. “You must not like me after all.” 

“That—” he exhales sharply, his subsequent words coming out in a low, measured drawl, “... You have until you finish your drink.” 

While your mind slowly processes this information, he pulls out a barstool and sits beside you. You can tell he’s still disgruntled, yet you’ve established a temporary truce. For all the brutality he’s capable of, he's willingly domesticated the instant you offer a piece of yourself. A guard dog who requires no leash, for leaving your side is unthinkable. 

This is what’s doomed you and posed as your salvation. 

You break eye contact. 

Outside, you hear the whirr of traffic through the bar’s thin walls. You’d already forgotten the name of the planet you’re visiting. It’s indistinguishable from most IPC-infected civilizations — intrusive advertisements carved in the night sky and menial work for the masses, who will never climb as high as they wish. The Stellaron Hunter’s prolonged presence is an ill omen for the oblivious populace. 

If you asked, Blade would tell you what they’re doing here and what will become of the inhabitants.

These days, you find it’s best not to know. 

“Why didn’t you try dating me, anyway?” You ask. An ice cube begins melting into the drink, losing itself. “I’ve always wondered about that. Who knows? I may have fallen head over heels for you.” 

His answer comes surprisingly fast, slicing through the air like his weapon of choice. “I am not the sort of man you should be with.” 

You whip your head in his direction, utterly dumbfounded. “Huh?” 

“What you deserve… I can never give,” Blade’s eyes betray nothing of his inner thoughts. “It’s best that you never believed otherwise.” 

The universe’s momentum slows to a crawl. You sit up straight, ignoring the wave of dizziness the abrupt motion inflicts, scrutinizing his visage. Dull emotions attempt to burst the pleasant buzz you've cocooned in. Their sharp edges push and push, testing the material’s durability. The lights flicker, unwilling to cast him in permanent light. 

“If you care enough to consider all that, then why—” 

Why rob me of normalcy? 

Why take what made me into the person I am? 

Why deprive me of my life to make what’s left of yours better?

He lets you down what remains of your drink. It burns as it travels down your tightening throat, washing away any playfulness that lingered on your tongue. Your stomach turns in on itself. Still, you lap up every drop, chasing after a numbness that can’t outweigh the grief. The act of pulling the glass away proves overwhelming for your frazzled brain. You sway, temporarily stupefied. 

The cold leather of one hand and textured gauze from another steady your shoulders, keeping your body in place. 

“Careful. You’ll only hurt yourself.”

You glare at him halfheartedly. “What’s it matter? Seeing me in pain obviously means nothin’ to you.” 

He pauses, considering a response you’ll never be privy to, as he keeps his lips shut. Instead, he asks, “Can you walk?” 

This questioning of your motor functions has you scoffing. Wordlessly, you hop to the ground, where you stay still, intent on keeping yourself steady. Despite your best efforts, your surroundings spin ever so slightly. The minimalist furniture of this automaton-run establishment blurs together. Heat flushes throughout your body, warming your cheeks like an internal furnace. 

You overestimated your tolerance. It’s been a while since you’ve indulged — you should’ve considered that. 

Your weak performance confirms Blade’s suspicions. He approaches you, raising his hands, likely to keep you secure like he had before. You dodge his unwanted advances out of reflex. This proves to be a mistake, as you lack the coordination to make any sharp movements. Your ankle gives out and your eyes fly wide open, arms flailing about for purchase. 

Blade moves faster than you can process. You’re made to feel weightless as he lifts you up, holding you firm against his chest. 

“Hey, put me down! I don’t— I can walk just fine!” You exclaim, writhing around like a fish out of water. Exerting a mere fraction of his strength is enough to render your struggle useless. Realizing that all you’re doing is tiring yourself out, you go limp, your breathing coming out erratic from the exertion. Humiliation prickles throughout like hot needles waiting to erupt from your flesh.

“Are you finished?” 

You’re close enough to feel the low vibration of his voice. It rattles your bones, burrowing deep within the marrow. You express your resignation by averting your gaze. With that, he walks out, holding you in a bridal carry. Cool air nips at your exposed skin as he kicks the door open. It lets out into a back alley, where he must’ve skulked in from. 

He stops here and gingerly places you down, muttering, “Lean against the wall.” 

You do as instructed, though given your impaired state, you would’ve fumbled around for support without his prompting. He sheds his outer black jacket and drapes it along your bare shoulders. The fabric engulfs you, smelling faintly metallic. After ensuring you’re properly covered, he scoops you back up, maneuvering your body around like it’s weightless. 

He follows the labyrinth-like expanse of alleyways, leaving the sounds and sights of the densely populated area behind. Not a word is uttered or a glance shared. You wet your lips, your mind racing for ways to break the tense silence. Blade’s always been a man of a few words, but this bout is different than what you’re used to. Heavier, somehow. Your actions have gone beyond petty defiance. Typically, you can gauge what nonsense you can and can’t get away with. 

With this latest excursion, however—

—You’ve stumbled into uncharted territory. 

“What now?” You ask, your voice unusually meek. 

“You’ll be leaving this star system before long. We’re headed towards the pickup site.” 

Your ears perk up at his word choice. “You aren’t coming?” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“I’ve yet to fulfill my portion of the script on this planet.” 

“... Oh.” 

You can feel the look he sends your way. 

“Does this displease you?” 

“Ah, well,” you take a deep breath, finding the act of verbalizing your thoughts in this state difficult, “I didn’t think you… liked being apart.” 

“My preferences are irrelevant. Kafka will ensure you’re cared for until I’m suited to be around you again.” 

You furrow your eyebrows together, parsing through this information bit by bit. It’s like your mental faculties have been slathered with tar, slowing the gears in the mire. You’re only ever stuck with Kafka when Blade’s regenerating from significant injuries or dangerously mara-struck. You reflect on the evening’s events. The ease at which you snuck out, how it felt like the universe itself aligned along the way… 

Ah. 

You’re the ideal variable to tamper with when increasing (or decreasing) his mara. 

It’s a gross feeling — this sensation of being used like a pawn to affect the performance of the board’s stronger pieces. Perhaps the inevitably of it all is why he isn’t upset with you, or he might be trying to delay the onslaught of mara. Whatever the case, you’ve inadvertently done your part for this script. Stirring the sediments of his shortcomings and shoving your dislike of him to the forefront. 

Is this all you are? A side character in the epic Destiny’s Slave has penned? 

You grit your teeth. 

Using what little strength’s left in your muscles, you sit up, slinking your arms around his neck for support. Blade pauses, clearly more interested in your machinations than dropping you off like a package. He turns to face you. Though you’re nearly nose to nose, the night obscures his features, save for his eyes. The two blood-red moons have an otherworldly glow to them. Their gravitational pull is dangerous, yet you approach them as a willing sacrifice regardless. 

A gentle graze of your lips against his is enough for him to stop breathing. You can do what his mountains of deceased enemies gave their lives trying to accomplish. He must know you’re up to something; his grip is nearly bruising from the restraint he’s exercising. You test his fraying resolve by allowing your lips to connect. It’s purposefully brief, ending before it truly began. Upon pulling away, he chases after you, but you deny him.

Blade sounds pained when murmuring your name. 

Whether it’s a plea or a warning, you can’t tell. 

“What?” You ask. “You’re the one trying to get rid of me.” 

“...” 

Blade leers down at you. You meet his stare, unyielding, drunk on the idea of inconveniencing the Stellaron Hunters to any extent.

"... Stay still," he eventually orders, backing you against the alley's wall. "Time is short."

You wait until he's nipping at your neck to smile.

[mingi-s-dimples]

「 Booty Gains - S.MG 」

"This is all you’re good for, isn’t it? Bent over, dripping, begging for me to use you.”

~ "Reader teases Mingi with some booty pics and vids while she's at the gym, and he's at work, add shower sex" ~ req. by anon

pairing: mingi x fem!reader

genre: 18+, filth

summary: you just can't stop being your bratty self whenever your man is at work, all bored. so you have the best idea of sending him some booty pics, not even thinking about how he'd ruin the hell out of you when he gets home.

wc: 3.8k

warnings: rough mingi, brat reader, possessiveness, ownership, punishment kink, humiliation kink, degradation/name calling (slut, etc.), praise kink, rough sex, hair pulling, ass spanking, marking (hickeys and bites), breasts fondling, nipple playing, manhandling, dirty talk, orgasm control, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, creampie, breeding kink, lots of cummm, shower sex, brat taming, mocking, teasing, a tad bit of aftercare, completely consensual!, unprotected (boo use protection irl!!), for sure forgot something, might edit later.

Author's Note: as a gym girlie that loves going to the gym, I would 100% do this to my man (I don't have a man atm but just saying) cause the anticipation is chef’s kiss. I loved writing this !! Thank you so much, anon, for sending in such a nice request ^^

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The gym was nearly empty, just the way you liked it. The low hum of machines and the rhythmic clanking of weights filled the space, but your focus was elsewhere. Your reflection in the mirror held your attention, the sweat glistening on your skin, the curve of your body accentuated by the snug fit of your leggings and sports bra.

Mingi had texted you earlier, complaining about how bored he was at work, stuck in another useless meeting. He had no idea what you were about to do.

A wicked smirk tugged at your lips as you adjusted your phone, angling it just right to capture the dip of your waist and the teasing outline of your hips. You snapped a picture, making sure the lighting hit all the right places before sending it off.

You: Missing you. Thought you might like a little motivation to get through your day.

It didn’t take long for your phone to vibrate with his response.

Mingi: Oh, you wanna play while I’m at work?

Your stomach fluttered at his tone. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your leggings, you slowly tugged them down just enough to reveal the plump curve of your ass, letting the fabric cling sinfully low. No one was there, so you pulled them just slightly lower. Your full ass was on display, plump and perky. You snapped another picture, this time a little bolder, a little filthier. Send.

The typing bubble appeared immediately. Then, a pause. Then—

Mingi: You better stop while you still can.

You bit your lip, suppressing a giggle. But stopping was the last thing on your mind. Feeling particularly bratty, you propped your phone up against the mirror and recorded a short clip—hips swaying, ass jiggling just enough to tease, your fingers lightly tracing over the curve before you tugged your leggings back into place.

You sent the video without hesitation.

This time, his response came instantly.

Mingi: You're fucked.

A thrill shot straight between your thighs.

You: You love it.

The dots appeared and disappeared for a long moment before your phone buzzed again. This time, your breath hitched when you opened the message.

Mingi had sent you a picture—a low, grainy shot of his lap under his desk, his thick cock straining hard against his dark slacks, the outline painfully clear through the fabric. The sight alone made your mouth water.

Mingi: You’re gonna take care of this when I get home.

You swallowed hard, squeezing your thighs together. Just as you were about to type back, your phone lit up with an incoming call.

You answered immediately. "Hello?"

His voice was low, dark, and dripping with something dangerous. "You think you’re funny?"

You hummed innocently, twirling a strand of hair around your finger. "I don’t know what you mean."

Mingi exhaled sharply, and you could practically hear the tension in his body, the way he was probably gripping his phone too hard, jaw clenched.

"When I get home, you’re not gonna be able to sit right. You understand me?"

Your breath hitched.

"Mmm. Can’t wait."

There was a beat of silence before he let out a quiet chuckle, one that sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

The line went dead.

And now all you had to do was wait.

The moment you got home, you couldn’t shake the smug little grin playing on your lips. Kicking off your sneakers, you stretched your sore muscles, still feeling the delicious burn from your workout. Your body was buzzing, half from the endorphins, half from the anticipation of what was coming.

Padding over to your full-length mirror, you tilted your head, running your fingers along your waist, smoothing over the curve of your ass. You giggled softly, replaying the texts with Mingi in your head—the way his tone had darkened, the picture he had sent you, the promise laced in his last words.

You shivered, excitement pooling low in your stomach. You had really riled him up this time.

Shaking your head, you grabbed a towel and headed for the bathroom, stripping off your gym clothes piece by piece. The air was warm, thick with steam as you turned on the shower, stepping under the hot spray. The water cascaded down your body, soothing the ache in your muscles, washing away the sheen of sweat. Your fingers trailed idly along your skin, stomach tightening at the thought of what was coming. Your fingers also trailed right between your thighs, slowly through your folds, thinking about how good it would feel if your fingers were Mingi's cock.

There was one thing you knew, tho. Mingi was going to ruin you.

You didn’t know how much time had passed—your mind had drifted into a hazy space, caught between relaxation and anticipation—when you suddenly heard it.

Click. Your body tensed. The front door.

A thrill shot through you, setting every nerve alight. He was home.

You barely had a second to react before the sound of heavy footsteps filled the silence, growing closer, more deliberate. Your pulse pounded against your ribs as you heard a single knock on the bathroom door.

Then, before you could answer—

The door swung open.

The steam curled around him as he stepped inside, towering and dangerous, still dressed in his dark work clothes. His tie was loosened, his shirt unbuttoned at the top, revealing the smooth line of his collarbone. But it was his eyes that held you captive—dark, heavy with something primal, something feral.

You swallowed hard, heat pooling between your legs.

"Mingi—"

His lips curled into a smirk as he tugged at his belt, the leather slipping through his fingers with an unmistakable sound. "You had a lot to say and send earlier," he mused, voice low, predatory. "But now that I’m here, you’re quiet?"

Your breath hitched as he took another step forward, "Did you touch yourself while you were waiting for me? Bet you did. Bet you thought you could get off without me. That’s fucking cute.”

And before you could say another word, he was reaching for you. You were about to learn exactly what it meant to be at Mingi’s mercy.

The heat in the bathroom thickened, the steam swirling around you like a fog, but nothing compared to the fire burning in Mingi’s eyes. He stepped closer, the space between you shrinking as he dragged his belt from the loops of his slacks, the leather slipping through his fingers with a slow, deliberate motion.

"You wanted my attention, baby," he murmured, voice low and dark. The sound of his belt dropping to the tiled floor sent a shiver through you. "Now you’ve got it."

You swallowed hard, pressing your back against the cool shower wall, the contrast to the heat in your body making you dizzy.

Mingi’s hands went to the buttons of his shirt, unfastening them one by one, exposing the smooth planes of his chest, the taut lines of his stomach. He took his time, knowing exactly what he was doing, letting your eyes roam over him as he peeled the fabric from his broad shoulders and let it fall.

"You’ve been a fucking brat all day." His voice was silk and sin, smooth yet dripping with something dangerous. "Sending me pictures while I was at work—" The zipper came down in one slow drag. "—knowing damn well I couldn’t do shit about it."

Your breath hitched when he shoved his pants and boxers down in one motion, his thick cock springing free, already painfully hard.

"You’re gonna take care of this," he rasped, palming himself lazily, eyes locked onto you.

Your thighs pressed together instinctively, but Mingi didn’t miss it. He smirked, stepping under the spray, the water running down his body in rivulets, droplets clinging to the sharp edges of his muscles.

"You know what I should do?" He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with something dark, something wicked. "I should fuck you against this wall." His voice dropped lower, rougher. "Shouldn’t even let you adjust. Just spread you open and take you—"

A sharp gasp left your lips.

He chuckled, cocking a brow as he stepped even closer, the heat of his body pressing against yours. His fingers trailed along your arm, up to your throat, his grip loose but possessive.

"Bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you?" he murmured, thumb brushing against your pulse. "You’ve been dripping for me since the moment you saw that picture. Knew exactly what you were doing when you sent me those."

His free hand trailed down, fingers teasing the curve of your hip before slipping lower.

"Tell me, baby," he rasped, lips ghosting over your ear. "Are you ready to take what’s coming to you?”

A slow, teasing smile curved your lips as you met his dark gaze, your lashes fluttering just slightly. “Mmm,” you hummed, tilting your chin up defiantly. “I don’t know… I think you talk a big game, Mingi. But are you really gonna do something about it?”

His jaw ticked, and for a split second, you saw the flicker of restraint in his eyes—the thin thread of patience that you knew was about to snap.

And then it did.

With a low growl, he crushed his mouth against yours, lips claiming you in a messy, desperate kiss. His tongue swept past your lips without hesitation, hot and insistent, tasting, devouring, punishing you for every teasing word, every taunting glance. The kiss was wet, sloppy, his breath heavy as he groaned into your mouth, like he was finally letting himself have what he’d been craving all damn day.

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, his cock pressing against your stomach, hot and throbbing. You moaned into his mouth, fingers curling into his damp hair, but before you could even think about deepening the kiss, he was yanking away.

“Turn around,” he ordered, voice rough, thick with impatience.

You hesitated just long enough to see the dangerous glint in his eyes before his hand shot out, curling into your wet hair. A sharp gasp left your lips as he tugged, tilting your head back just enough to arch your spine. His other hand pressed firmly against your lower back, forcing you against the cool shower wall.

“You wanna play games?” he murmured, his voice low, taunting. “Then let’s fucking play.”

A shiver ran through you, anticipation making your pulse spike. His grip tightened, holding you exactly where he wanted you, his breath hot against your shoulder. And then—

He thrust into you in one smooth, punishing motion, stretching you open without warning.

A strangled moan tore from your throat, pleasure-pain searing through your body as he filled you to the hilt, not giving you a second to adjust. The stretch was intoxicating, overwhelming, but you could feel how much he needed this—how much he had craved this moment, how much he had been holding back all fucking day.

"Fuck," Mingi growled, his fingers digging into your hips. "This is what you wanted, huh? To get fucked like a little brat who doesn’t know when to stop teasing?”

You barely managed a breathy whimper before he pulled back, only to slam into you again, harder this time, sending you onto your toes. The sound of wet skin slapping together filled the air, mixing with the steady rush of water and the filthy, wrecked noises slipping past your lips.

Mingi was relentless, his thrusts rough and unyielding, every snap of his hips a reminder of exactly why you shouldn’t have teased him. His hand fisted in your hair, keeping your back arched as he fucked into you with punishing force, his chest heaving behind you.

"This is all you’re good for, isn’t it? Bent over, dripping, begging for me to use you.”

A broken moan left your lips, and Mingi chuckled darkly.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, his grip tightening. “I’m just getting started.”

His hand tightened in your hair, tugging just enough to make your scalp tingle, your back arching deeper. His other hand splayed over your hip, fingers digging into your skin as he pounded into you, each thrust sending shocks of pleasure rippling through your body. The wet sounds of skin meeting skin filled the steamy air, each slap of his hips against your ass punctuated by his ragged breathing.

"Fuck—" Mingi groaned, voice wrecked, like he was losing himself in the feeling of you wrapped around him. "You feel so fucking good, baby. So damn tight—like you were made for me."

You whimpered, pressing your cheek against the shower wall, your knees threatening to buckle under the force of his thrusts. But Mingi wasn’t about to let you collapse—not when he was in the middle of breaking you apart.

His grip shifted, one hand leaving your hip to trail up your side, fingers brushing over your ribcage before sliding up to cup your breast. He kneaded the soft flesh roughly, thumb flicking over your hardened nipple, making you jolt under his touch.

"That’s it," he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction as he felt your body tremble beneath him. "Taking me so fucking well. "Such a messy little thing. Look at you—moaning like a whore just because I’m fucking you.”

A soft whimper left your lips, but before you could answer, his hand slapped against your ass, the sharp sting making you cry out. The impact sent a fresh wave of heat surging through your core, your walls fluttering around him as pleasure mingled with the delicious burn of his palm.

Mingi chuckled darkly, rubbing over the spot he had just smacked before delivering another sharp slap.

"Fuck—" he hissed as he felt you clench around him, his rhythm faltering for a second. "You like that, huh? Like when I put you in your place?"

"Y-yes," you gasped, barely able to form the words.

"Yeah? I bet you do," he rasped, his fingers tightening in your hair as he yanked your head back, forcing your spine to arch even deeper. "Bet you fucking love being used like this. Bent over, dripping, begging for me to ruin you."

His words sent a shudder straight through you, your body throbbing with need.

Mingi smirked, leaning in to press his lips against the shell of your ear. "You're such a good little slut for me, baby," he murmured, his tone softer now, almost sweet—but the way his hips snapped into you said otherwise. "So fucking perfect, taking everything I give you."

His teeth scraped over your shoulder before he bit down, marking you, claiming you. The pain sent a jolt of pleasure through your system, your moan spilling into the air as your nails clawed at the slick shower wall.

Mingi groaned against your skin, his hips losing their rhythm, growing rougher, more erratic.

"Mine," he growled, his hand wrapping around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. "Every fucking inch of you—mine."

Mingi could feel it—your body trembling beneath him, your walls tightening like a vice around his cock, your moans turning high-pitched and breathless. You were right there, dangling on the edge, and he was going to push you over.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, his fingers tightening around your throat just enough to make your head spin. "Come for me. Show me how much you fucking love this."

His free hand dropped between your legs, fingers finding your swollen, neglected clit. The second he pressed down, rubbing harsh, tight circles, your whole body jerked, pleasure slamming into you like a tidal wave.

A sharp, broken cry tore from your throat as you came, your orgasm hitting so intensely that your legs nearly gave out. Your walls fluttered wildly around his cock, squeezing him so tight it made him curse under his breath.

"Fuck, fuck—just like that," he groaned, chasing his own high now, slamming into you with reckless, desperate thrusts. "God, you’re so fucking tight when you come—"

His grip on your hips turned bruising as he buried himself deep, his cock throbbing as his own orgasm crashed over him. His moan was low and guttural, his breath hot against your ear as he spilled inside you, filling you to the brim with his warm, silky white cum.

But Mingi wasn’t finished.

Before you could even recover, before your body could stop shaking, he pulled back slightly—then slammed back into you, deeper than before.

A strangled gasp left your lips, your body convulsing at the sudden overstimulation. "M-Mingi—!"

"Oh, baby," he cooed, mock sympathy dripping from his voice. "Too much?"

But his hips never slowed. If anything, he fucked into you harder, faster, his cock bullying past your sensitivity, rubbing against that sweet, overstimulated spot with every relentless thrust.

Your hands scrambled against the wet tile, your head spinning, pleasure too much, too sharp, your body unsure whether to pull away or press back into him.

"Mingi—! I c-can’t—"

"You can," he growled, fisting your hair tighter, forcing your back to arch even deeper. "You will."

His fingers found your clit again, rubbing it mercilessly. Your body was breaking, splintering apart under the overwhelming sensation.

"You’re gonna squirt for me," he murmured, his voice rough, commanding. "I know you can, baby. Come on—be my good girl and soak me."

Your breath hitched, everything in you coiling tighter and tighter, nerves fried, mind blank, only able to feel him—his cock pounding into you, his fingers working your clit, his grip keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

The pressure built impossibly high, and then—

You shattered.

A cry ripped from your throat, your entire body locking up as waves of white-hot pleasure crashed over you. Your walls spasmed violently around his cock, and suddenly, you were gushing, soaking his thighs, dripping down onto the shower floor as your orgasm wrecked you.

Mingi groaned, his thrusts turning wild, erratic, as he fucked you through it, milking every last drop from you. "Fuck, that's it—so fucking pretty, baby, look at you—"

Your body convulsed, twitching under him, barely able to handle the intensity of it. Tears pricked your eyes, your moans turning into soft, desperate whimpers.

But Mingi wasn’t stopping.

"One more," he panted, his grip tightening. "Give me one more, baby."

And you knew—you weren’t getting out of this until he got exactly what he wanted.

Your body was trembling—wrecked, overstimulated, barely able to keep yourself upright against the shower wall.

His hand released your hair, only for his arms to hook around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You gasped, feeling his cock still buried deep inside you, still hard, still throbbing, still demanding more.

"Mingi—" your voice came out hoarse, barely a whisper.

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, deceptively sweet, before dragging his tongue up the column of your throat, tasting the sweat and water beading on your skin. "One more, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "I know you can take it."

Before you could even process his words, he was moving.

With effortless strength, he spun you around, pressing your back against the cold shower tiles. His hands gripped the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up until your legs wrapped around his waist. The new position had him sinking even deeper into you, the stretch making your head fall back against the wall with a strangled moan.

"F-fuck—" you gasped, your nails digging into his slick shoulders.

Mingi groaned, rolling his hips slowly at first, dragging his cock in and out of your oversensitive, drenched pussy, feeling every twitch, every flutter. "You’re shaking, baby," he mused, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, his tone teasing. "Is it too much?"

You could barely breathe, let alone answer, your body caught between unbearable overstimulation and insatiable need. But Mingi wasn’t going to let you recover.

His hands slid down to grip your ass, and then he snapped his hips up into you, hard and punishing, making you choke on a moan.

"Yeah?" he groaned, fucking into you mercilessly, pressing you harder against the shower wall. "That’s what I thought."

The new angle had him hitting impossibly deep, dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. His grip was bruising, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he used it to pull you down onto his cock with every brutal thrust. Your body felt like it was on fire, caught between unbearable pleasure and the sweet agony of being pushed past your limits.

"You wanted this, didn’t you?" Mingi panted, his lips trailing down your throat, his teeth grazing your skin. "Wanted me to fuck you dumb, make you cock drunk, huh—"

You whimpered, head lolling to the side as he sucked a deep mark onto your neck, his tongue flicking over the sensitive skin before biting down just enough to make you cry out.

"Such a good fucking girl," he murmured against your throat, his voice low, velvety, sending shivers straight to your core. "Taking it so well for me. Letting me use this pretty pussy however I want."

Your body clenched around him, and Mingi groaned, feeling your walls fluttering dangerously close to release again.

"You're gonna come again, aren’t you?" he rasped, pressing his forehead against yours, his pace growing wilder, more desperate. "Gonna soak me like the filthy little thing you are?"

Your thighs quivered around his waist, your entire body trembling, nerves fried, pleasure curling unbearably tight in your stomach. You were right there—on the edge of another devastating climax, so sensitive it almost hurt, but so fucking good you never wanted him to stop.

Mingi leaned in, lips brushing yours, his voice nothing but a breathless command.

"Come for me, baby."

His fingers found your clit again, rubbing harsh, desperate circles, and that was it—your body shattered, a sharp, broken moan ripping from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you.

A gush of wetness flooded between your bodies again, and Mingi groaned, his hips stuttering, his cock throbbing violently as you squirted around him, soaking his abs, his thighs, dripping down between you.

"Fuck, f-fuck—" he choked, watching the way your body writhed, how you pulsed, how your head tipped back in pure, mindless pleasure. "God, that’s so fucking hot. Such a good little slut for me, making a mess like this.”

His hips snapped into you a few more times, frantic, desperate, before he buried himself to the hilt, grinding deep as he came inside you with a low, wrecked moan.

For a long moment, the only sound in the bathroom was the heavy panting of your breaths, the soft hum of the shower still running.

Mingi let his forehead rest against yours, his hands smoothing up your back, holding you close, grounding you both.

Then, after a beat, he chuckled, voice rough but laced with something undeniably fond.

"You," he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, "you are never allowed to tease me while I'm at work again.”

You smiled, “yeah, sure..” a glint of bratiness in your words.

He looked at you with dark hunger, his gaze dropping to your ruined body. “Hmm, now that I think about it, I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet. Maybe I should keep you full of me all night.”

NETWORKS: @blossomnet @illusionnet @mirohs-aurora-society

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @strawberry-mingi @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @tahiraax1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @atzlordz @chai0tea @miyaluvvsyou @lezleeferguson-120 @sopematesxx

[lecsainz]

SUNSET

pairings: charles leclerc x girlfriend!reader

request: Hello bae! I absolutely adore your writing, could you maybe write something about charles being turned on by your sundress and maybe it leads to smut? Thank you!!🩷

authors note: [ something cool again ]

warnings: (+18) smut, minors dni!

☆. . . masterlist !

Y/N loved summers, especially when her boyfriend was on a break from Formula 1. It was one of the rare times in the year when they spent 24/7 together for weeks. She cherished those moments.

Charles had asked Y/N to get ready because he wanted to show her a new place in Monaco, one he had discovered while running with Andrea. Y/N walked into the living room, where Charles was standing, his concentration solely focused on his iPhone with the cracked back.

"Don't you think it's time to replace that phone?" she asked playfully.

"Oh my God!" Charles muttered under his breath, his attention suddenly torn away from his phone as he saw Y/N in a summer dress that hugged every curve of her body.

"Enjoying the view?" she asked, a playful smile on her lips. She took a spin, showing off the dress to him.

Continues with Charles being flustered by her appearance, but Y/N's tone was light-hearted and teasing. She knew exactly how to play him.

"Maybe a little too much," Charles replied, his voice slightly strained as he tore his gaze away from her. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "You look incredible."

Y/N chuckled, enjoying the effect she had on him. "Well, if you can manage to tear your eyes away from your phone for a few minutes, maybe I can show you the dress properly."

Charles finally looked up, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "Right, sorry. You just... caught me off guard."

Y/N walked over to him, her fingers lightly tracing the outline of his jaw. "You know, I've missed having you all to myself like this."

He nodded, his eyes softening as he gazed at her. "Me too. It's been way too long."

Without thinking, Charles pulled her into his lap, his arms encircling her waist. Y/N laughed, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"We should probably get going," she said, her voice a mix of reluctance and amusement.

Charles rested his forehead against hers, his warm breath fanning over her lips. "You're right, we should," he agreed, his tone a little too casual.

Y/N chuckled, realizing where he was heading. "Don't even think about it, Leclerc. We have plans, remember?"

A mischievous glint danced in his eyes as he grinned. Instead of getting up, he gently shifted her weight, lowering her onto the couch and hovering above her.

"Plans can wait," he murmured, his lips brushing against hers in a feather-light kiss.

She tried to suppress a laugh, her hands resting against his chest. "Charles, we can't just stay here all day."

He nuzzled her neck, his lips pressing soft kisses along her skin. "Who said anything about all day? Maybe just until sunset."

Y/N let out a soft sigh, her resistance fading as he continued to trail kisses across her collarbone. "You're impossible."

Charles looked up, his eyes locking onto hers with a playful spark. "But you love me."

She rolled her eyes, though her smile was undeniable. "Fine, we can stay here for a little while."

"Good," he murmured, his lips finding hers again, this time with more urgency.

As they continued to kiss, the world outside their apartment seemed to disappear, leaving only the sensation of his touch and the sound of their breaths mingling in the air.

Charles's hands moved along the curves of her body, his touch igniting a fire within her. Y/N's fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as their kisses deepened, a silent understanding passing between them.

The soft cushions of the sofa seemed to mold around them, offering both comfort and support as their bodies pressed closer together. His fingers traced the edges of her sundress, his touch sending shivers down her spine.

Breaking the kiss, Charles's lips found the sensitive skin of her neck, trailing a path of heated kisses along her collarbone. Y/N's breath hitched, her nails lightly grazing his back as a quiet moan escaped her lips.

"Charles," she whispered, her voice a mixture of need and desire. His name on her lips only fueled his hunger, and he responded by deepening his kisses, his lips now exploring the contours of her chest.

As their passions grew, Charles's urgency became more apparent. His fingers deftly worked at the fabric of her sundress, a silent plea for permission in his eyes. Y/N met his gaze, her own desire mirrored in her eyes. With a nod, she gave him the consent he sought.

The fabric of her dress yielded to his touch, the sound of tearing fabric mingling with their heavy breaths. Charles's lips moved lower, his kisses leaving a trail of fire along her skin. Each touch, each caress, sent shivers of pleasure through her body.

Their bodies shifted, and Charles positioned himself between her legs, his eyes locked onto hers as he continued his exploration. His fingers traced maddening patterns along her inner thighs, making her gasp with anticipation.

"Oh lord," she moaned, her fingers threading through his hair. Her body arched against his touch, aching for more.

He responded by pressing a searing kiss against her most sensitive spot, eliciting a cry of pleasure from her lips. Charles's movements were skilled, his touch driving her closer to the edge.

Y/N's fingers tightened in his hair, her moans growing louder as waves of ecstasy washed over her. Charles's name was a mantra on her lips, a prayer and a plea all at once.

And as they reached the pinnacle of their desire, their bodies moved in perfect harmony, a symphony of pleasure and need. The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them entangled in a moment of pure intimacy.

Afterward, as they lay entwined on the sofa, their breathing slowly returning to normal, Charles pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. Y/N smiled, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest as they basked in the aftermath of their intense encounter.

Charles pulled away slightly, his forehead resting against Y/N's. "See? Sunset," he whispered, a triumphant grin on his lips.

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"

He shrugged, his gaze tender as he looked at her. "I just know what I want, and right now, it's you."

Y/N chuckled softly, nuzzling against him. "You certainly have a way with persuasion."

He grinned, his arms wrapped around her. "Well, I believe actions speak louder than words."

With a contented sigh, Y/N nodded, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. "I can't argue with that."

With a contented smile, Y/N let herself be pulled into another kiss, the world outside their apartment fading away as they enjoyed the simple pleasure of being together.

[undersugarnights]

Just Take Off Your Mask

✦ MDNI — 18+ Only ✦

✧ pairing: luke hemmings x reader

✧ summary: after going MIA for a few days, luke shows up at you and your best friend michael’s shared apartment on halloween, desperate to make amends.

✧ warnings: smut, overstimulation, toy usage, slight knife play, blink and you’ll miss it hint of a slightly toxic relationship

✧ word count: 4.6k

✧ title: robbers — by The 1975

✧ author’s note: Okkkkayyyyy, so I saw someone request a Ghostface Luke fic somewhere and it got me thinking. Originally, I wrote this with an OC from a fic i’m working on, but ended up switching to an x reader format. This is my first post here on Tumblr, so bear with me if it’s a little wonky or if I make any mistakes. I also edited this myself, so if you catch anything I missed, please let me know! anyway, this is for my twt gc, i love u freaks

Copyright © 2024 undersugarnights. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You sat slouched on the couch of your shared apartment with Michael, mindlessly scrolling through Netflix in a futile attempt to find something that could distract you from Luke’s absence. No matter how hard you tried, your focus kept slipping.

Michael had begged you to come with him to a Halloween party earlier, but you’d refused. Not for the first time, you had turned down something you would have enjoyed—all because of Luke.

Your gaze drifted to the phone on the coffee table, the absence of notifications glaring back at you like a silent taunt. You forced your eyes back to the TV, but your thoughts refused to cooperate. Three days. It had been three days since he disappeared without a word. He’d promised to spend Halloween with you, yet he hadn’t shown.

The creeping fear you always tried to suppress began to rise. It was the same fear that gripped you whenever Luke disappeared, leaving you in the dark without so much as a message to say he was okay. You hated how easily it consumed you, how it made you question what you even meant to him. Were you really his girlfriend? Or just a convenience?

Before the spiral could go any deeper, your phone buzzed sharply, its ringtone breaking the heavy silence. You nearly launched yourself off the couch, scrambling to grab the device, only to fumble it in your haste. The phone skittered across the table, but you snatched it up, heart racing as you answered.

Luke’s name flashed on the screen.

Your heart leapt, but you forced your tone to remain steady as you answered. “Was starting to think you were the victim of a bad horror movie,” You mused, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your pajama pants while you awaited his response.

The line crackled with his heavy, slightly muffled breathing before he finally spoke. “So,” he began, drawing out the word, his tone laced with cocky amusement. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

Your brow furrowed at his breathy voice, noticeably deeper than usual. “Yeah,” You replied, the confusion in your tone clear. “It’s you, dummy.”

A low chuckle rumbled through the speaker, sending a shiver down your spine. “Open your door, Y/ N,” Luke drawled, his voice dripping with something dark and teasing. “You’re looking… lonely.”

You froze, pulse quickening. “What the hell has gotten into you?” You asked, scrambling off the couch and padding cautiously toward the door. “You can’t see inside.”

Your hand hovered over the handle, thoughts racing.

Luke didn’t answer, offering only a low chuckle from the other side of the door. Irritation bubbled in your chest as you gripped the doorknob, mentally rehearsing a speech about the importance of communication. With a sharp exhale, you flung the door open, ready to confront him—only to freeze mid-breath.

You let out a loud gasp, any annoyance momentarily forgotten.

Luke stood there, leaning casually against your doorway, dressed head to toe in a Ghostface costume. The dark fabric clung to his broad shoulders, the mask in place, giving him an eerie, almost theatrical presence. Your eyebrows shot up as your eyes swept over him, caught between surprise and intrigue.

Slowly, with deliberate precision, Luke slid the mask up, revealing his face. Your breath hitched at the sight of him. His hair was artfully messy, most likely due to the mask. His pupils were wide and dark, the dim light catching the sharp gleam of his lip ring as it contrasted against the soft pink of his slightly parted lips.

A lazy, knowing smile spread across his face, one corner of his mouth quirking up just enough to send a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t help the way your lips parted in response, your gaze lingering on him longer than you intended.

“Happy Halloween,” he drawled, hanging up the phone his voice low and smooth, as if he had no idea—or perhaps full knowledge—of the effect he was having on you.

“Happy Halloween?” You echoed, anger surging through you as you stepped aside enough to let Luke inside. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Luke didn’t waste any time, grabbing your face in his gloved hands and pressing his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. Even though you were mad, more than mad, the feeling of his lips against yours was enough to send a shiver down your spine, your hands instinctively intertwining behind his neck.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, his voice low and earnest as he kissed along your jawline. His hands moved to your waist, effortlessly lifting you onto the breakfast island near the door. His lips trailed down the sensitive column of your neck, licking, nipping, and leaving you gasping for air. "Let me make it up to you."

Your eyes fluttered shut as heat pooled in your stomach, but you fought the pull. "No," you sighed, trying to steady your voice. Luke pulled back just enough to fix you with an exaggerated pout.

"I'm mad," you added, your tone unconvincing even to yourself.

Luke rolled his eyes, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips as his hands settled on your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Sure you are," he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. Slowly, his hand slid beneath the hem of your shirt.

The rough texture of his gloved fingers against you soft skin made your breath hitch, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine despite your resolve to stay annoyed.

“I’m serious,” You insisted, your frown deepening. You hated how easily your body betrayed you, responding to Luke’s touch despite the simmering anger still coursing through you.

“So am I,” Luke replied, flashing that infuriatingly charming lopsided grin—the one that made your stomach flip no matter how mad you wanted to be. “And I really want to make it up to you.”

You let out an exasperated groan, your hand hesitating before tracing the line of his stubbled jaw. The contrast of roughness against your fingertips sent a shiver down your spine. “I want to stay mad at you,” You murmured, though your voice softened, betraying your resolve.

“Then stay mad,” Luke teased, his voice dropping lower as he leaned in to nip at your earlobe. His breath was warm against your skin, making your heart race. “It’ll make it more fun. Please, baby, I missed you.”

Your resolve crumbled further at the sincerity in his tone, your anger quickly being replaced by something softer. “I can’t be mad when you look at me like that,” you grumbled, your eyes fluttering closed as the heat of his lips against your neck made your breath hitch.

You felt him grin against your skin. "Good thing I brought a mask, then," he whispered huskily. With a teasing laugh, he pulled back just enough to capture your lips in a searing kiss. It was harsh, needy, his teeth grazing your lower lip as his hands roamed up your thighs, igniting a trail of fire with every touch.

Abruptly, Luke pulled away, leaving you breathless. Sliding the Ghostface mask back over his face, he tilted his head, the eerie blankness of the mask only adding to the tension.

Your breathing quickened as you stared at him, the stark white mask concealing his face but doing nothing to hide the magnetic pull between them. The faintest shiver of excitement coursed through you at the sight, anticipation thrumming in your veins.

Without a word, Luke swept you off the counter, eliciting a soft yelp of surprise. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms clinging to his shoulders as he carried you to the bedroom.

Luke dropped you onto the bed with little ceremony, his posture dominating as he loomed over you. Tilting his head again, he studied you intently, his breathing heavy. You could feel the tension in the air, thick and charged.

"Strip," he commanded, his voice muffled but firm behind the mask. Your eyes widened in surprise as he pulled a small compact knife from his pocket. He brought the tip of the blade to your jawline, dragging it lightly along her skin without breaking it.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his tone softer now, almost breathless.

You swallowed thickly, your heart pounding in your chest. You knew Luke would never hurt you—he would rather die than see you in harm's way—but the adrenaline coursing through your veins only heightened your excitement. Slowly, you nodded.

Your hands moved on instinct, crossing your arms to grip the hem of your shirt. With one swift movement, you pulled it over your head, tossing it aside. You could feel Luke's gaze on you even through the mask, his presence heavy and electrifying.

Reaching behind you, you unclasped your bra, letting it slip down your arms and onto the bed. The cool air brushed your bare skin, making you shiver as you waited, your breath hitching in anticipation of what he’d do next.

Slowly, Luke dragged the tip of the knife along your skin, never pressing hard enough to break it. The cool, faintly ticklish sensation sent a cascade of goosebumps down your arms. When the blade traced lazy circles around your nipple, your breath hitched, your body responding to his calculated movements.

"Take off your pants," he commanded, his voice low and steady behind the mask.

"Leave the panties on."

You nodded, fingers fumbling slightly as you shimmied out of your pajama pants. The intensity of his gaze—or what you imagined was his gaze behind the mask—kept you on edge, anticipation crackling in the air between the two of you.

Without saying a word, Luke pushed you back onto the mattress, his hands firm yet careful. Then, with deliberate slowness, he turned and began rummaging through your bedside drawer.

Your stomach fluttered as you realized exactly what he was looking for. Your throat went dry as he pulled out your vibrator—a bright pink wand you’d grown far too accustomed to during Luke's recent absence.

Your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and excitement, pulse quickening as his grip tightened around the toy. "Looks like you've been keeping busy," he murmured, his tone tinged with amusement as he tilted his head. The mask obscured his face, but you could imagine the smug grin beneath it.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. "Someone had to pick up the slack."

Luke chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

"Oh, I plan to make up for it. But first..." Luke clicked the vibrator on, the low hum slicing through the quiet tension of the room as he stepped closer. "Let's see how well you've been taking care of yourself."

Instead of removing your underwear, he pressed the vibrator directly against your clothed clit. The sensation was immediate, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

You arched your back, a gasp tumbling from your lips as your thighs trembled involuntarily.

Even with the thin barrier of your panties, the vibrations were overwhelming. Luke stood silently, watching your every reaction, the anonymity of the mask amplifying the heat between you two .

Your breath hitched as you glanced at him, the stark white of the mask hiding his expression, but you didn't miss the way his free hand slid down to rub against the growing strain in his pants. The sight sent another wave of desire crashing through you.

"I'm so sorry, baby," Luke murmured, his voice dripping with guilt and heat as he pressed the vibrator more firmly against you.

He leaned over you, bracing himself with one hand on the headboard while the other held the toy steady against your soaked panties.

"Sorry I left you all alone to take care of yourself. Bet you're so needy for my cock, aren't you?"

You let out a strangled moan, your hips bucking instinctively against the relentless vibrations.

"Yes," You whimpered, your voice trembling. Your head tilted back as waves of pleasure coursed through you, thighs shaking uncontrollably. You gripped the bed covers like a lifeline, your fingernails digging into the fabric as your body tensed.

The wetness soaking through your underwear made it impossible for you to ignore how close you were. Your clit throbbed, oversensitized but still chasing the high that was just out of reach. The familiar burn of your orgasm built steadily in your core, your breaths coming in sharp gasps.

Luke watched you intently, his masked head tilted in mock curiosity. The tension in his body was palpable, his free hand twitching as though resisting the urge to touch you further.

You couldn't take it anymore. Your hand shot up to remove the mask, desperate to see the expression on his face, to connect with him beyond the teasing. But Luke caught your wrist with lightning speed, his gloved fingers wrapping tightly around your arm.

"Ah, ah," he tutted, a playful edge to his voice. "You hate me, remember? Let me make it up to you without ruining the fun. No need to see my infuriating face."

Infuriatingly beautiful, you thought to yourself, biting back the words. Your breath hitched as the vibrations pushed you closer to the brink. "Please, Luke," you pleaded, your voice cracking with desperation. "I want to come."

Even though you couldn’t see it, you knew that Luke was smirking under his mask, staring at your squirming body with satisfaction. “Don’t worry, you will,” Luke chuckled. “But let me enjoy my apology, too.”

Luke's gloved hand slid down to your chest, gripping your soft flesh with a possessive hunger. His fingers kneaded your breast before pinching your hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your already oversensitized body. The sensations were overwhelming, and you let out a breathless gasp, your chest heaving as you struggled to hold yourself together.

"I'm so sorry," Luke murmured again, his voice a low rasp that seemed to reverberate through you. The apology was a trigger, pushing you completely over the edge. Your body tensed, and you came with a sharp, breathless cry, your eyes squeezing shut so tightly you feared you’d never open them again. Your back arched off the bed as waves of pleasure wracked your body, leaving you trembling and gasping for air.

Your hand instinctively reached up to grip Luke's forearm, desperate for something to anchor yourself with as the intensity of your orgasm left you shaking uncontrollably.

"That's it," Luke purred, his voice velvety and low, laced with satisfaction. "Good girl." But even as your body fell limp beneath him, the vibrator remained pressed against your clit, the relentless hum prolonging you overstimulation.

You whimpered, your thighs twitching as the sensitivity became almost unbearable. You squirmed beneath him, your breaths shallow and ragged. "Luke-" you gasped, pleading for mercy, but your words were swallowed by another tremor that shook you to your core.

Luke tilted his head, watching you writhe beneath him with a smug satisfaction that even the mask couldn't conceal. "Oh, no, baby," he murmured, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "I don't think l've apologized enough yet."

"Stay still for me," he commanded, his tone soft but firm as he reached for the knife he had discarded on the nightstand. The metallic click echoed in the room as he flipped it open, the gleam of the blade catching the dim light. He dragged it lightly across your skin, pressing just enough to leave faint red marks in its wake but never breaking the surface. The deliberate slowness of his movements made your core pulse with aching anticipation.

“Luke, please,” you whimpered, your voice trembling as unshed tears blurred your vision. The tension in your stomach coiled tighter, heat spreading through your body like wildfire. “I’m so close—please—”

Just as you neared the edge, Luke lifted the vibrator from your clit, drawing a sharp, desperate cry of protest from your lips.

"I'm making this up to you, pretty girl," he said in a low, intoxicating tone, his voice laced with an almost possessive intensity. "Every second you were left alone, I'll make up for. I promise."

Your breath hitched, your chest rising and

falling as your trembling hands gripped the sheets. You nodded eagerly, your mind clouded with desire, barely able to form coherent thoughts.

Luke's gloved fingers trailed down your flushed skin, his touch featherlight yet electrifying. The cold blade followed the curve of your chest, gliding down your stomach in an excruciatingly slow path. The contrast between the cool steel and the warmth of your skin sent shivers coursing through you, leaving you utterly at his mercy.

Without warning, Luke pressed the vibrator back against your throbbing clit, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips. Your body jolted at the sudden onslaught of sensation, the relentless hum pushing you closer to the brink once again.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured, his masked face tilting as if studying your reaction. His words, his touch, and the intoxicating rhythm of the vibrator all worked together to unravel you completely.

"Do you think you could forgive me?" Luke mused aloud, his voice muffled but still dark and teasing through the mask. "Or was it worth the wait? God i, you're so wet, baby. I can't wait to see that pretty little pussy. Can't wait to fuck it."

You let out a soft, broken moan, biting the inside of your cheek as his filthy words sent another rush of heat straight to your core. The vibrator rested against your oversensitive clit, its hum reverberating through you, while Luke's gloved hand slowly traveled up and down your trembling thigh.

"Please, Lu," you begged, your voice cracking under the weight of your desperation. "I need more. I want more."

Luke chuckled, low and sinful, dragging the knife across your stomach with deliberate slowness. He traced lazy patterns on your skin, careful not to press too hard, his gentleness juxtaposed with the danger of the blade. The contrast made your head spin, desire clouding your every thought.

"You want more?" he echoed mockingly. "So greedy, aren't we?" His grip on your thigh tightened, and the blade shifted lower, gliding over your panties with just enough pressure to make your hips jerk.

"Say it," Luke demanded, his tone dropping, leaving no room for refusal. "Tell me you want my cock. That's what you're begging for, isn't it? Say it."

You shivered, cheeks wet with tears that streamed freely down your face as you let out a strangled cry. "Please, Luke, I want your cock. Fuck me—please—"

Luke's chuckle was dark and satisfied as he moved the knife with precision, slicing through the delicate fabric of your panties in one swift motion. The shredded material slid down your legs, leaving you bare and utterly exposed to his gaze.

For a moment, you held your breath as the vibrator's relentless hum continued to torment you, but mercifully, Luke pulled it away. Your thighs quivered as the overwhelming sensations subsided slightly, only for your need to grow even stronger under his unwavering attention.

Luke tossed the ruin fabric aside. “Such a shame,” He whispered, climbing on the bed and working open the button of his jeans. “I really liked those.” His gloved hands grabbed your trembling thighs, spreading them open enough to make space for himself.

He took his time admiring you, wet and glistening before him. Although the mask hid his face, you could still hear his heavy breathing. You didn’t doubt that he was devouring your body with his eyes.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” He whimpered, his gloved thumb brushing over your swollen clit, making your hips buck up in response. “So ready for me, aren’t you? This is what you’ve been thinking about, haven’t you? Me fucking you until you can’t even raise your head.”

“Yes,” You whispered, shaking with anticipation as your eyes flickered down to where he strained against his underwear. “Luke— I need you, please.”

He pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, his thumb still teasing your clit. You watched through half-lidded eyes as he pulled down his underwear, his erection quickly freed from its confines.

Luke's tip was flushed and slick with precum as he wrapped a gloved hand around his length, guiding it to your entrance with an infuriating slowness. "You've been such a good girl for me," he murmured, dragging himself along your slick folds and pausing to tease your swollen clit. His voice was thick with desire, each word dripping with intent.

"But do you think you can forgive me?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but before a single word escaped, Luke thrust into you with no warning. Your breath hitched as a sharp cry tore from your lips, back arching off the mattress as he stretched you in a way that felt both overwhelming and perfect. The days without him only amplified the sensation, the ache and fullness making your toes curl.

“Fuck,” Luke groaned, his voice slightly strained and breathless in your ear. He pressed deeper into you, burying himself to the hilt and stopping briefly to enjoy the feeling of it, of your walls wrapped tightly around him. “You feel so fucking good, so good f’me.”

“Only for you,” You gasped, feeling his gloved hand as it settled against your hip and gripped tightly. His other hand braced against the mattress next to your head.

“Y/N,” He rasped, still not moving. You clenched around him, whimpering in a desperate attempt to get him to move again. “I missed you so much.”

"I missed you,” You gasped, your voice a soft whimper as you writhed beneath him. The white mask loomed above you, adding a tantalizing mystery to the moment. You couldn't see his face, but you could imagine it perfectly—his blue eyes screwed shut, his teeth digging into the black lip ring he always toyed with when he was consumed by desire.

Your body tightened around him, adjusting to his size as waves of pleasure spread through you. Each second felt like an eternity, your core burning with need as your fingers clutched at his forearms for stability. "Lu," you whimpered, your voice breaking. "Please, I need you to move."

Luke's low chuckle reverberated through the room, the sound dark and teasing, making you clench around him involuntarily. He hissed sharply, the grip on your hip tightening as his gloved fingers pressed into your soft skin. "You're so needy, baby," he murmured, his tone dripping with smug amusement.

But he didn't make you wait any longer.

Slowly, he pulled his hips back, only to thrust forward again with deliberate intent. The drag of him inside you sent sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins, and your head fell back against the pillows, a moan spilling from your lips.

Luke’s hips snapped hungrily against you, setting a punishing pace that made you screw your eyes shut in pleasure. He watched you writhe beneath him, your moans filling the room and mixing in with his.

You couldn’t help the way your body responded to Luke’s grunts and gasps, and you arched against him— the friction driving you wild. You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm and overstimulation, so every thrust made you see stars.

“You feel so good around me,” He whimpered, his voice muffled by the mask, but the strain in his tone was evident. “So tight and warm.”

You whimpered, your legs tightening around Luke’s waist as he continued to fuck into you. The mask obscured your view of his face, but the way his body moved with such fervor made it clear that he was just as affected as you were.

His chest heaved with every thrust, and your arms slid to his broad shoulders in search for an anchor. “Luke—“ You gasped. “Harder, please, fuck me harder.”

Luke laughed darkly, his hands tightening on your waist enough that she thought it might leave bruises. You found that you didn’t quite mind. “So fucking greedy,” He growled. “But you’re such a good girl, and I can’t say no to you.”

Luke’s pace picked up. His thrusts grew harder and deeper, more desperate as he felt you clench around him. The sound of your bodies clashing together and moans filled the room, and you felt yourself begin to grow close again.

Your head trashed against the pillow. “I’m close,” You sobbed, the intensity making your body fizzle with energy. “Oh, God.” Your nails dug into Luke’s shoulders.

“Come for me, Y/N,” He commanded. Luke leaned his masked face down, brushing against your ear. “Show me how much you missed me.”

His words were all the permission you needed, arching your back off the bed as a second, more forceful orgasm washed over you. A broken moan escaped your lips, your heels digging into the small of Luke’s back.

“That’s it,” Luke cooed, his voice filled with raw desire and pride. “So beautiful when you come for me.”

Your walls fluttered around him and you whimpered, meeting his hips with your own as you rode out your high.

But Luke didn't relent. Instead, he pulled off his mask, revealing his flushed, sweaty face.

His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, his movements never slowing as his hips continued to thrust into you with relentless force.

You let out a strangled yell, your body trembling from the overwhelming sensation. "Lu—" Your voice cracked as you gasped, breathless. "I can't—too much—"

But Luke didn't seem to hear you, driven by something primal, his need for you blinding.

“No,” He growled. “You can take it, baby, you’re doing so good. I’m not finished apologizing yet.” His thumb found your swollen clit again, rubbing firm, harsh circles on you.

You whimpered, shaking your head. But the newfound attention to your sensitive bud rekindled the flame low in your belly. The buildup was so much faster this time, so much more intense and tears slid down your face.

Luke's rhythm faltered, his movements growing erratic as his breathing became heavier. "God, you feel so good," he rasped, his voice rough with raw desire. "So fucking perfect."

The tidal wave building inside you finally crashed, pulling you under with an intensity that left you breathless. You screamed his name as your orgasm tore through you, a release so powerful it left you trembling uncontrollably. Warmth flooded between them, wetness pooling beneath you and soaking the mattress.

Luke froze for a moment, his eyes widening as he processed what had just happened.

"Holy shit, Y/N," he groaned, his voice thick with awe and arousal. "You squirted—"

The slickness and the rhythmic tightening of your walls around him pushed him past the edge he'd been teetering on. With a guttural growl, Luke buried his face in your neck, his body trembling as he drove into you one last time, deep and hard.

“Fuck baby,” he groaned, pressing a kiss to the soft flesh of your neck. You were breathing heavily, your mind a foggy mess as you looked into your boyfriend’s deep blue eyes.

He slid down your thighs, gently prying them open before leaning in to lick you clean. You let out a tired whimper, your body still slick and hypersensitive. The touch of Luke's tongue sent shivers through you—equal parts pleasure and overstimulation.

When he was satisfied, he rolled off you and climbed out of bed, peeling off his soaked costume while you watched in a cozy, contented silence. Once he was done, Luke settled back beside you, brushing a tender kiss against your lips, a soft contrast to the intensity that you had just shared.

When Luke pulled away and glanced at the mess on the mattress, a mischievous grin spread across his face. “So, I’m taking this as your way of saying you’ve forgiven me?” he teased, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your still-trembling thigh.

You ran your hands through his messy, sweat-dampened hair, your nails grazing his scalp. “I don’t know,” you murmured, a teasing smile curving your lips. “Throw in a Plan B, and we’ll call it even.”

Luke chuckled, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips before pulling back just enough to smirk. “Deal.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

send in your requests pls!!! hope you guys enjoyed 🤞

[weskerslefthand]

can i ask please a wesker x reader, where reader is a long time co-worker of his and suddenly when he finds out she's dating someone he gets MAD to enchant her and make reader his?

all the wesker scenarios in my head are finally coming in handy :P

You had worked alongside Albert Wesker for yearslong enough to understand his cold efficiency, his calculated demeanor, and the way his piercing red gaze seemed to strip away every layer of pretense. He was never one for unnecessary attachments, and you had learned to mirror his professionalism.

At least, that’s what you thought.

But then, something changed.

It started as a simple conversation in the lab, an offhand comment you hadn’t even considered significant.

“I won’t be available this weekend,” you had told him absentmindedly, adjusting your gloves as you examined the latest samples.

His gaze flickered toward you. “Busy?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I have a date.”

Silence.

The kind of silence that thickened the air, suffocating the sterile hum of the lab equipment. You glanced up at him, expecting the usual indifference, but instead, his jaw was set in a way you had never seen before. The fingers of his gloved hand twitched slightly, as if suppressing the urge to crush something in his grasp.

“A date,” he echoed, voice low and deliberate. “And who, may I ask, is this unfortunate individual?”

You raised a brow. “Unfortunate? Wesker, it’s not a crime to have a personal life.”

He stepped closer, his towering frame casting a long shadow over you. “You’re mistaken, dear,” he said smoothly, voice tinged with something almost dangerous. “It is when that personal life involves… distractions.”

You scoffed. “It’s not a distraction. I’m allowed to have a life outside of work.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, as if barely keeping his patience in check. “And yet, after all these years, you decide now to entangle yourself with someone.”

You frowned. “What are you getting at?”

His gloved hand lifted, just barely grazing your jawline before his fingers traced downward, stopping at the hollow of your throat. A calculated move one that made your pulse stutter.

“I expected better from you,” he murmured, leaning in just enough that you felt the heat of his breath. “From all we’ve built together. And yet, you choose someone… insignificant?”

A shiver ran down your spine. “Why does it bother you so much?”

His lips curved into something unreadable—half smirk, half sneer. “Because I do not share what is mine.”

Your breath caught. His?

Before you could process, he tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His pupils had thinned to slits, the intensity of his crimson irises almost hypnotic.

“I will not let some outsider steal what belongs by my side,” he murmured, voice silky and commanding. “And if you need convincing…” He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “…I will make you see that no one else is worthy of you but me.”

The Next Day

It was subtle at first.

Your boyfriend (bf/n) had called, his usual warm tone edged with unease.

“Hey, something weird happened at work today,” he said. “The security team said my credentials were flagged. They wouldn’t tell me why, just that someone higher up had a ‘concern.’”

Your stomach twisted. “That’s odd…”

“I know, right? And then I got an email saying my application for the research grant was rejected. But it was a guaranteed approval yesterday. It doesn’t make sense.”

You tried to reassure him, but the call left a pit in your stomach.

And then the next day, he canceled your date.

“Sorry, I just things are hectic. I need to sort everything out.”

You knew when someone was making excuses.

Something was wrong.

It didn’t take long to confirm your suspicions.

In the dim lighting of the facility’s underground corridors, you cornered the one person who could make someone disappear without a trace.

“You did something,” you accused, voice low but sharp.

Wesker barely looked up from the report in his hand. “I do many things.”

“(Bf/n).” You stepped closer, glare burning into him. “His security credentials. His research. His job. You’re sabotaging him.”

Now, he did look up. His lips twitched into a smirk, but his eyes were cold. “I merely ensured that a liability was dealt with accordingly.”

“He is not a liability,” you snapped. “He had nothing to do with you!”

His eyes darkened. “You’re mistaken again,” he said smoothly, stepping closer. “Everything that concerns you, concerns me.”

Your heart pounded as he closed the space between you, backing you against the cold steel wall of the corridor. He lifted a hand, palm resting flat against the metal beside your head, effectively caging you in.

“You chose to entertain a meaningless dalliance,” he continued, voice rich with condescension. “And I chose to eliminate it.”

Anger flared in your chest. “You don’t get to decide who I”

Gloved fingers traced your cheek, silencing you with a feather-light touch.

“I decide everything,” he corrected, crimson eyes gleaming. “You should have known that by now.”

You swallowed hard, torn between fury and something far more dangerous. His presence was suffocating, intoxicating commanding.

A slow, deliberate smirk spread across his lips.

“You seem tense,” he mused, voice dripping with amusement. “Perhaps I should remedy that.”

You stiffened as his other hand found your wrist, fingers curling around it with calculated ease. Not rough. Not forceful. Just enough pressure to remind you exactly who he was who he had always been.

“You said you had a date this weekend,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “I believe you still do.”

Your breath hitched. “Wesker ”

“I insist.”

The finality in his tone sent a chill down your spine.

A date. On his terms.

He stepped back, releasing you from the cage of his arms, though the weight of his presence still lingered.

“I’ll pick you up at eight,” he said smoothly, turning on his heel. “Wear something… appropriate.”

And just like that, he walked away leaving you breathless, furious, and undeniably ensnared in his game.

[dat-town]

lowkey the one you need

Characters: Myung Jaehyun & female reader

Setting & genre: college au, friends to lovers

Summary: Your friendship of three years with Jaehyun has been shifting lately but you can’t quite explain why. Until you do.

Warnings: mentions of pushy guys, alcohol consumption and cliche games at college parties, jealousy

Words: 1.9k

Author’s note: happy bday to our beloved puppy leader! (no matter what he says there’s nothing wolfish about him... 99% of the time); title from nice guy English version,  header pic of Jaehyun from mint

@restlessmaknae thanks again for bringing these boys into my life! without them my writing stats for this year would have been quite poor but now look at me, bday stories for all of them? who would have thought?

The weight of Myungjae’s arm around your shoulders was familiar. Welcomed even. Warm and comforting, a feeling you could sink into on movie nights, it was nothing new.

And yet, there was something different this time. Something like butterfly wings scratching the surface, a tickling feeling, heart racing.

“Is there a problem, babe?” The boy spoke up, casual as he drew out the endearment as if he called you that every other day but his usually bubbly and bright voice was serious and stern, something threatening hanging between the syllables. He shot a dubious glance at the guy in front of you before finding your eyes, his gaze softening as soon as it settled on you. You smiled, relieved, grateful, but  somehow nervous because you felt exposed and vulnerable as if looking at you too long would have exposed too many secrets. Secrets you weren’t ready to uncover.

“It’s okay. I was just telling Hyuntae that I’m not interested,” you said as nonchalantly as you could, not wanting to make a scene.

With his side pressed against yours you could feel the way Jaehyun’s body tensed at your answer, his hand sliding from your shoulder to your arm, pulling you closer gently. The movement was simple yet it was halfway between protective and possessive. You weren’t sure how much of it was acting, just him being a good friend trying to scare off a pushy guy who seemingly didn’t understand no. It wouldn’t have been the first time. But this time around it made your heart flutter.

Something was definitely different this time. Something like the taste of cherry coke on your tongue and the smoke in your lungs that made you cough. Getting fresh air was never about clear night breeze at college parties after all. Still, you had rather inhaled the nicotine of strangers’ cigarettes on the crammed balcony than to watch Jaehyun kiss Younha in that stupid game of Truth or Dare. It tasted more bitter, the tang of jealousy, so you excused yourself and that was how you got yourself here, between your best friend and a guy who thought it was lame that you weren’t drinking.

“Uh huh and which part of that is hard to understand?” Jaehyun tilted his head at Hyuntae who scoffed in response.

“Chill, dude, I just offered to get her a drink,” he rolled his eyes, mumbling something nasty under his nose before disappearing back in the crowd of the living room, leaving the two of you and the smokers out on the balcony.

Your shoulders visibly relaxed but Jaehyun didn’t let go even then. The hand he had over your bare arm traced feather light patterns over the skin, soothing and caring. You could barely suppress a shiver and not from the cold.

“Are you okay? Do you wanna leave?” He looked at you in concern, his big brown puppy eyes warming your soul.

“What about Younha?” You muttered, thinking back on the last of what you saw of him, sitting in a circle among Intak and the others, the empty glass of beer landing on him.

“What would be with her?” Jaehyun frowned, looking genuinely confused and you weren’t about to spell it out for him, that it looked like the girl wanted a lot more from him than a chaste kiss in front of others as a dare. So you opted for phrasing it nicer.

“She seems to like you,” you shrugged like you didn’t care, like the sight of her heart eyes didn’t stab your heart with thousand thorns.

“She doesn’t even know me,” The boy dismissed your inquiry like it didn’t matter and it was terrible how triumphant you felt over something insignificant like that. But Jaehyun didn’t let you dwell on it too much, instead he grabbed your hand with his always warmer ones and pulled you towards the door. “Let’s go before you catch a cold.”

You didn’t argue, just said bye to your friends and let Jaehyun steer you out of the apartment, covering your shoulders with his denim jacket. It smelled like spring and sandalwood, like a safe place, but you resisted the urge to pull it tighter around yourself. You started walking three blocks down towards your place side by side and it somehow sent you off on the memory lane, wondering where it all began and where it changed.

You had been friends with Jaehyun pretty much since the first day of college. At least since your first Economics class where he happened to sit next to you in the lecture hall and asked whether you thought the professor looked like a dinosaur from Jurassic Park too. It had been history since. He was the fastest friend you ever made but it was impossible not to get swept up by the force that was Myung Jaehyun. His energy was unmatchable and he never failed to make your smile or at least feel comforted when you were down. Without him your dreaded college years would have been far less colorful and fun while he acted like you were the miracle in his life with homemade meals you brought him because you knew he tended to skip breakfast and for ‘putting up with his loud and clingy ass’ (his words) as if that was such a sacrifice. Really, you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

You got close quickly, never running out of topics, going to concerts and to the movies together, becoming each other’s support system. It was all good and platonic. You didn’t remember thinking of him as anything but a good friend, until lately it started to change. You couldn’t tell when though. Was it when he went on that date with that redhead from his Finance seminar? Or when he fell asleep on your shoulder during your Disney marathon and you noticed just how cute his squishy cheeks were? Or when you saw him help a kindergartener find his mom in the mall?

For the longest time it didn’t make sense and you felt bad because what kind of friend were you to be envious of his more exciting love life? Not that his dates led anywhere and he blamed it on not feeling the spark with any of the girls he went out with. So it was even more unreasonable and you started to wonder whether it was all in your head, just because college was ending soon and you already missed him and all the times you had together before becoming responsible and busy adults.

“And then Sohee was like… Hey, are you listening?” A soft nudge against your arm and you ducked your head, feeling embarrassed getting caught.

“Sorry, I’m a bit in my head tonight,” you mumbled and you wished you could blame it on the alcohol even though you didn’t have any. Jaehyun wasn’t angry at all though, not with the way his mouth pulled up into a smile and you could tell he wanted to cheer you up, probably because he felt guilty over dragging you to another party you weren’t exactly fancy of.

“Aww what’s on your pretty mind?” He cooed and patted your head gently, waking up those sleeping, traitorous butterflies in your stomach. But that was the thing, Jaehyun was like that with everybody: overly kind, touchy and affectionate.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, avoiding his eyes and biting into your lip. “Just… Ah, nothing.”

You gave up with a sigh, like a coward. After all, how could you tell him anything of what was going through your head without ruining your friendship?

“You’re so cute,” Myungjae commented with a boyish grin and poked your cheek to stop you from pouting before resuming his story about getting lost in one of the Han river parks with Sohee the other day.

Listening to him telling stories was always fun, so now that you focused on him, the rest of the walk went by quickly and you didn’t even feel the cold of night breeze until the warmth of his jacket washed through you as you stepped inside the building. You tapped your door card against the sensor and in your haste, you managed to stumble over the mess of shoes left in the tiny doorway courtesy of your roommate. You would have probably fallen very unlady-like if Jaehyun wasn’t there to steady you with a gentle hand on your waist.

“You good?” He asked, concerned and politely quiet, not sure if your roommate was back already or still out on this Friday night.

“Yeah, thanks,” you mumbled, turning towards him, fighting a shiver as his hand slid off you. Like this you noticed just how close he stood, his worried eyes boring into yours and his breath fanning over your cheek. Only then did you get a sniff of the soju in his breath which made you furrow your brows.

“Did you drink?” You blurted out, giving way to your confusion because usually he opted for beer instead of harder liquor since he was a lightweight.

“Ah, you know, the game,” he muttered with a shrug as if it should have explained it all.

It took you a moment however to put two and two together, to understand what it meant, that he had rather drown a shot than to kiss Younha like he was dared to. It shouldn’t have made you feel as relieved as it did, just how his closeness shouldn’t have accelerated your heartbeat so terribly but still enveloped in his denim piece, you suddenly felt hot.

“So you didn’t…” you trailed off, your gaze unconsciously falling to his lips before tearing them away.

“I didn’t,” he confirmed in a whisper without you having to finish the sentence, like he could read your mind. For the sake of your sanity, you wished he couldn’t.

The two of you stood there unmoving by the door for too long, so the motion sensor-based light flickered above and suddenly darkness washed over you. In the dimly lit hallway you could only make out Jaehyun’s lines and the moonlight reflecting in his doe eyes, then he moved so suddenly you could barely process what was happening before his plush lips landed on the corner of yours, chaste and sweet, so quick that it was over before you had a chance to close your eyes.

“Shit, sorry,” Jaehyun blurted out, voice panicky, immediately pulling away, his movement frantic enough to switch on the light again. “You are just so pretty and…”

“Do it again,” you cut his apology off in a breathless voice which left Jaehyun bewildered.

“Huh?”

This time, it was you who leaned in but the boy met you halfway. The kiss tasted like cherry coke and plum-flavored soju, like summer days full of laughter and the warmest hugs on autumn nights. Then his fingers were on your jaw, gently probing and you found yourself gripping at his plaid shirt, sighing against his sweet mouth when the back of your head hit the wall.

“Gosh, I like you so much,” he murmured against your lips with a smile which you couldn’t help but reciprocate. It wasn’t enough for Jaehyun though, not with the way he nuzzled into your neck, pressing his cold nose to your jawline when you didn’t reply. “Yah, say it back. Don’t leave me hanging.”

His dramatic whining made you chuckle and you realized that you liked it all: his closeness, his puppy eyes on you, his pout, his comfort, even him being so quick to pretend to be boyfriend to scare away random dudes at parties.

“I like you too,” you told him, heart fluttering in your chest at the way Jaehyun looked at you. Maybe things changing between you wasn’t that bad after all.

[pascalislove]

THE CALL: Han Jeong-Won x Fem!Reader~27

Summary: Your arrival would change everything, even if Jeong-Won didn't know it yet.

Time had passed quickly, transforming the dynamic between Y/N and Jeong-Won from a contractual relationship to something much deeper, although neither of them dared to name it yet.

They lived as a couple in every sense. Mornings began with gentle awakenings, sharing sleepy glances and lazy caresses before getting out of bed. Jeong-Won used to make him coffee while Y/N made playful comments about his clumsiness in the kitchen, although lately his skills had improved noticeably thanks to her advice.

—¿Know? If you weren't a producer, you could open a cafe. —Y/N smiled, taking a sip of the freshly brewed coffee.

"Are you suggesting I should give up my career for this?" —He responded with a raised eyebrow, but a soft smile curved his lips.

—I'm just saying you have hidden talent,— she laughed as Momo circled around her feet.

The day passed between laughter, jokes and small gestures that spoke of a comfort that only arises when two people have become accustomed to each other's presence.

Y/N worked on her projects while Jeong-Won composed music in his studio, but they always found time for small interruptions: a coffee together, a stolen kiss in the hallway, or simply glances that said more than words could express.

That night, after a quiet dinner, Y/N was washing the dishes when she felt strong arms wrap around her waist.

—“Let me help you,” Jeong-Won murmured close to her ear, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine.

—No need, I'm almost done,—she whispered, although she made no effort to move away.

—"I didn't say I wanted to help with the dishes." —He smiled against her neck before placing a soft kiss on her skin.

Y/N laughed softly, turning to face him. Their eyes met, and for a moment time seemed to stop. There was something in the way Jeong-Won looked at her, like he wanted to tell her something but didn't know how.

Without saying a word, he leaned in to kiss her, slow and deep, as if he wanted to record that moment in her memory. Y/N reciprocated without hesitation, clinging to him as if the world could crumble around her and it wouldn't matter.

—Jeong-Won... —she began to say, but her words were caught when he picked her up with ease, placing her on the cold counter. His surprise was mixed with a soft laugh, which was quickly silenced by his lips.

The kiss was slow at first, but soon it became deeper, loaded with emotions that didn't need to be explained. His hands traced familiar paths down her back, while she clung to his shoulders as if the world could disappear at any moment.

The kitchen, with its aroma of soap and the distant sound of the street, became his private refuge, where time was of no importance. The kisses became more urgent, the caresses more intimate, until everything else ceased to exist. The intimacy between them was something they had built over time, slowly but with intensity.

That night was no different. Between soft laughter and suppressed sighs, they ended up back in the room, getting rid of any barrier that might remain between them.

Later, as they lay together in bed, Jeong-Won gently stroked the hair of Y/N, who was resting her head on his chest.

—What are you thinking about? —she asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

—"You," —he answered without hesitation.

Y/N smiled against his skin, but said nothing more.

They both knew that what they felt was real, palpable in every look and every gesture, although the words remained unspoken. But at that moment, it didn't matter. Because love, even if it wasn't said out loud, was already there, latent, growing with each day they spent together.

This story does not follow the plot of the series, tell me if you like it and if you want me to tag you in the chapters🫶

Tag list:

@anamiad00msday, @czarinera , @beebeechaos, @muchwita, @otakusimp1, @aori-aka03-blog, @preppyfella

THE CALL MASTERLIST

[missisjoker]

ABO prompt

Imagine a modern AU where Jacaerys is an unmated omega from a rich and powerful family, and needs bodyguards. Constantly. He grew up under watchful eyes and for the most part is used to it, because all bodyguards his mother gets him are betas, respectful, polite, reserved, mindful, and very demure.

Until the threat from the Greens looms and Luke gets hurt, and Daemon announces that from now on all bodyguard duties will be given to alphas he has personally chosen.

Jace gets Cregan Stark- a young, but battle-tested veteran who is unmatched in combat skills and is nothing like Jace's previous buddy beta guards.

Where Jace's betas were agreeable, Cregan is unmoving. Sharp. And strict. Naturally, Jace immediately starts rebelling, and his natural cuntiness skyrockets.

His suppressants work well, top-notch, and he is 100% sure he is not attracted to his new obnoxious, nasty alpha. However, he is quite certain Cregan does find him appealing (he isn't blind, he sees the lingering glances and crowding of the personal space).

He even starts teasing Cregan about it, something along "no need to pretend to check the perimeter around my back, Cregan, I know you just want to smell me."

Cregan, for the most part, just ignores it- which makes Jace sulkier. So, Jace decides to retaliate, ditches Cregan by escaping through the window, and goes to the club. Mixes and mingles with others, even gets himself a handsy beta that invites him to the vip lounge. They only get down to kissing when Cregan storms in and carries Jace out without a word.

Jace is livid until Cregan drags him back- into the now empty room- and shows him a hole in the wall right where he was sitting.

Grabs him by the throat, and growls in that husky voice of his, "This is a bullet hole, if you moved one second later than you did, it would've entered here,"- he pushes two fingers into Jace's forehead, "And exited on the other side. So next time you try to run, remember you might not run far. Now get back to the car."

Jace follows him in silence, horrified. By the time they reach Cregan's jeep, Cregan's fury subsides, and he turns to Jace, gives him his jacket, rubs his hands on Jace's arms. "Hey, it's alright, kid, you're safe. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise" Cregan cups Jace's face and traces his jaw with his thumb, "You just have to promise you'll never run away from me like this again. Yes?"

"Yes."

The ride home is quiet. Jace lives in the two-story penthouse, so Cregan takes up the downstairs lounge, while Jace sulks about his upper level. After the shower and a nice flowery bath, the whole ordeal seems less ... real, so Jace just goes to sleep.

His dreams are different this time; before he mostly dreamt of pleasant things, running around flower fields, enjoying the sun, laughter, and soft hands touching and hugging him. This time it's different- there is a shadow standing behind him, enveloping him, radiating fury and absolute danger, making the hair on his neck stand up... but the shadow seems to loom so large all other shadows just scatter away and disappear, and Jace willingly sinks into the darkness. And now it's rough hands on his throat, on his waist, on his thighs, roaming and taking, and lips and teeth leaving marks in unthinkable places...

Jace wakes up sweaty and hot, and his feet automatically take him downstairs.

Cregan isn't sleeping either,

"You were moaning in your sleep"

Jace pouts, "well, it's your fault. And you have to fix it."

"You need to get back upstairs, Jace. NOW."

"Why? Am i so disgusting you can't even bare to look at me?"

Cregan stares at him, with eyes glowing, his alpha growling deep in his chest, "I can smell your arousal from upstairs. I bet you are dripping wet right now, you need to get back to your room."

"No, YOU need to fix this mess. It's all your fault, your smell, your skin, your assholness, your everything!"

Cregan closes the distance between them in two strides,

"Are you sure you wanna go there, little prince? Have you even been with alphas before?"

"I am not little and not a prince, and don't worry, I can handle you just fine."

Cregan hums approvingly, fingers grabbing Jace's curls to give him access to kiss the man's neck. "Good then, take your clothes off and get upstairs."

Jace whines, "Why upstairs?"

Cregan chuckles, "The bed is bigger."

[lirational]

Staked Claim

Shalom x Reader

A/N: A quick fic inspired by @inou-ie’s fic, which can be found here. I am getting back into the swing of things! I’m sorry for the wait everyone!

Warnings: Possessive behavior, strap-ons, mentions of drinking, jealousy, overstimulation.

Smut under the cut. Minors DNI.

The haze of alcohol had made you forget just what problem prompted you to come here in the first place. With the haze, came the lack of restraint, and that was how you ended up here in the first place.

Blaring lights and all-too loud music became a relentless assault on your senses. It took all your focus just to talk, and energy for you to put on a smile when a beautiful woman joined you, her voice a melodious contrast to the loud music. Emboldened, you reciprocate her flirting, awkward as it could be, and her laughter became fuel for you to continue, even as a sense of wrongness stirred from the act.

It was all in good fun, you figured.

As if Fate itself has heard your claim, you hear a familiar voice.

“There you are,” a familiar voice spoke, soft without betraying any trace of emotions. A cold hand slid onto your waist, the other reaching up to trace a line from your chin to your neck, a gesture to anchor you back to reality.

“Can I take her for a bit? My dear (Name) here seems to be bothering you, let me apologize on her behalf,” Shalom continued, each word spoken in such a way that each word tickled against your ears. The softness of her dress was pressing against your back, Shalom seemingly uncaring about ruining it.

While the other woman was stunned, you were helped up and brought back to her place, ice injecting your veins as you realize how absolutely screwed you are. A soft click from the lock, right as you felt the familiar softness of her bedsheets sealed your fate.

Perhaps, the most unsettling of all, was the way she smiled. A practiced, perfect smile, beautiful, yet enough to convey a threatening message.

“I warned you, didn’t I?”

Her smile didn’t falter, and a shudder went down your spine. All the haze from your drinking had disappeared, replaced by a stark, sharp clarity.

“Ah, Shalom, I’m… sorry?”

She let out a chuckle at your answer. Her smile almost never faltered, which allowed you to pick up subtler cues to her feelings. Right now, you could sense jealousy was brewing underneath her skin, barely suppressed in an ever-present, statue-like charm too perfect to believe if you hadn’t seen it yourself. “Here I thought you were restlessly waiting for me, while I attend a business party, but it seems you’ve been having some fun, hm?”

You gulp, the sound almost echoing in the quiet, heavy atmosphere. Then, she continued.

“You know, I don’t like my things being touched by anyone else, including you. In fact, I hate it the most.”

Her soft voice was like a lure, a false illusion projected to give you a sense of security. Limbs locked by dread, you could only watch, as she made a tantalizing show of removing her dress layer by layer, shedding the cumbersome weight inch by inch, slow and careful to stretch the anticipation and fear to an eternity. Though you knew there was no use bargaining with her at this state, you opened your mouth, hoping to at least convince her.

However, as soon as you tried to, she was in front of you, index finger on your lips, the cold from her skin spreading and freezing your pleas.

“Strip.”

It was a soft-spoken order, yet you obeyed.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw that she had taken out the biggest strap she could find, its color stark against her pale skin.

Using your distraction, she was in front of you, and then pushed you down, the toy aligned to your entrance.

“You’re not—“

Again, you were interrupted, as she kissed you before you could finish. It was a deep, searing kiss that did not allow you even a moment to breathe, tongues tangling in a claiming dance until black started to dot the corner of your sight. Only then did Shalom see it fit to give you respite, letting you catch your breath as she trailed bruising kisses down from your cheek, to the column of your neck, your shoulders, and the valley of your breasts. Her skillful tongue swirled around your nipple, stimulating them into stiffness while her hand played with your other breast.

Your pleas for her to slow down were overtaken, drowned by your own wanton moans. Even without her eyes branding your skin with sheer intensity, she seemed to have a telepathic connection to your thoughts, ramping up her stimulations when you start to say anything other than calling her name, scattering any coherent thoughts to the wind in the process. With a wet pop, she released your nipple, looking at you in the eyes for a moment before reaching down to give your folds a quick swipe, humming in satisfaction as she felt slick gather on her fingertips.

“Feel it, feel just how wet you are for me.”

She aligned the massive toy onto your entrance, hips slamming to meet yours as it slipped into your folds to the hilt, your eager walls swallowing and gripping on it. A sense of relief came first, then there was pain as the toy rammed so, so deeply her hips were connected to yours. She didn’t take her eyes off you, taking your right hand and planting a soft kiss on top of your digits while her hips moved in a slow, teasing manner to allow you to feel every inch as she entered you.

Through the pleasure, you realized, it was the same hand the woman you met at the bar touched.

“What are you thinking?” Shalom asked, putting your hand down and tilting your head to look at her in the eyes. “Look at me. Don’t look at anything else.”

With that, it was as if she had let go of her restraints.

Her stare pinned you down, fingers gripping your hips until it left crescent marks as she slammed the toy into you over and over, her intensity a wordless threat to split you apart, each moment your hips meet sending waves of pure bliss throughout your body. It was in moments like this you regretted forgetting about her strength, as weak as she may be from what you have heard, as a Sinner she was still much stronger than you were. She only allowed you, no, coaxed you to call and beg for her name and nothing else, each plea spilling from your lips to continue becoming her fuel to keep going, to ram her toy inside you until something broke apart within.

Your climax came as an explosion of sensations blurring into one, pain, pleasure, and exhaustion racking your entire form as you spilled and made a mess on the toy. Shalom eyed the forming puddle on the bedsheets with satisfaction, the gleam of her gaze telling you all you needed to know.

Then, she waited, until the glazed over look in your eyes subsided, a sign that you have regained awareness, before pulling out her toy from your folds, all smeared with your fluids from the tip to the hilt. A part of you have expected blood from the way she split you apart with abandon, yet there was nothing, nothing out of place other than evidence of your own unraveling beneath her. Exhaustion gripped your form, yet, her cold touch on your neck froze you into awareness.

“Don’t fall asleep yet,” she purred, “I want you to feel, to see what I could do to you that no one else could.”

With that, she tightened her hold, restricting your breathing. Through that little control she exerted, her touches turn sharper, even the little movements of her fingers as her other hand stimulated your bud, slow, careful, and romantic, as strange as it sounded. Unlike before, when she moved as if she intended to split you into two at the seams, desire heated up your body slowly, a gentle rise that forced you to feel everything she did while you grapple with your restricted breathing, your legs shivered, your thighs closing, perhaps in an attempt to escape, or an attempt to force her to go faster.

You obtained neither.

She pulled out her hand as soon as your legs close, earning a low whine that you wished you would never be caught dead making. Alas.

“Patience, (Name), you will get your reward.”

Rather than distract you, the order just made you more keenly aware of her movements. A part of you supposed that it was just her form of punishment. Your legs quivered with need, hands gripping the sheets so hard it was a wonder you had not torn through them yet.

Relief came like a refreshing wave of water, as Shalom finally, finally released your neck, allowing you unrestricted access to fresh air. There was no mercy this time, no overwhelming sensations to allow you the dignity to forget what she had made you feel, etching how utterly and completely hers you were even into the deepest recesses of your thoughts. She seemed satisfied, and you finally let go, exhaustion claiming you, yet a soft pull on your hair sapped all the fatigue, Shalom’s smile still gracing her beautiful visage, a contrast to the mess you have made of yourself and the sheets.

“Tired already? I haven’t came even once. Come on, you won’t need to walk for the next three days, would you?”

[dark-and-kawaii]

I'm for disturbing you but I desperately need raphael who is so soft to the tav but tries to keep his act together in front of others which leaves tav chuckling which makes him blush aaaaaaaa

༺ 𝒜 𝒲𝒾𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝐹𝒶𝒸𝒶𝒹𝑒 ༻

Raphael

Notes: Firstly, you aren’t disturbing me!!! Secondly, thank you so much for this request!!! I really loved writing this, and I hope you enjoy it!!! I love soft Raphael especially when he’s still in character!!!

Pairings: Raphael x Tav/Reader

Soft Raphael - Love - He Love His Little Mouse

In the midst of Avernus, a grand gathering was taking place. It was teeming with all kinds of devils, infernal beings, and wicked creatures, each indulging in their debauchery. At the center stood Raphael, his existence echoed with undeniable authority. By his side stood you, the object of his uncharacteristically soft affection.

Raphael, relishing in the attention, was entertaining a mesmerized group of devils with a tale of his prowess.

"I'll strike down Zarielle and all who defy me.” He declared, a devilish grin adorning his face. "Her imps torn asunder, their cries heard through Avernus in the wake of my wrath!" Yet, amidst his terrifying proclamation, a familiar chuckle reached his ears, it was coming from beside him. Turning sharply, Raphael sees you trying to suppress your laughter, your eyes shining with amusement. Without uttering a word, you walked away, disappearing into the sea of devils, leaving him with a tint of pink on his cheeks, his brows furrowing in irritation.

The other devils, ever so vigilant and quick to seize upon any sign of weakness, noticed Raphael's flushed cheeks. They took pleasure in mocking him, relishing the opportunity to undermine his reputation. "You sure you're going to strike Zarielle down when a simple mortal’s giggle nearly puts you on your ass?" jeered one, his voice dripping with malicious delight.

Raphael's pride was stuck, and he warned the imp's taunting words. "If you don't mind your tongue," he retorted through gritted teeth, "I'd happily demonstrate what it is I'd do to Zarielle."

Raphael, being easily irritated by anything that challenged his superiority, sought you out with a grimace. He navigated through the crowd, eventually locating you chatting with a group of lesser fiends. He seized your arm, his grip on you harsh and forceful as he dragged you away from the crowd. Spiteful and filled with frustration, Raphael grasped your chin forcefully, his presence emanating a wicked energy.

"Perhaps I've spoiled you too much, little mouse," he stated with a voice laced in spite. "What was the meaning of that little outburst of yours?"

You looked up at him meeting his piercing gaze, his beautiful brown eyes is like immersing oneself in warm melted chocolate, rich and enticing. The depth and intensity of his stare captivates, drawing you further into him… Standing on your tiptoes, you gently press your lips against his in a tender kiss. Raphael’s hands instinctively find their place on your hips with a gentle yet firm grip. His fingertips tracing the contours of your hip, grazing the fabric of your clothing.

As your lips part, you whisper in a hushed voice, "It's amusing to me how all the others are blinded by your wicked facade. They would never guess that the great Raphael, son of Mephistopheles, harbors such tenderness within." Your fingers trace a light path through his hair, "A fox's soft side, a treasure I alone possess,"

Your fingertips caressing his dark tresses, “You're not all sharp claws and fangs, but a creature who cradles his prey tenderly in the night." You smiled warmly as his face began to scrunch, his grip tightening ever so slightly but Raphael remained silent, "Protecting her instead of devouring her whole.” You noticed his reddening face and continued, "The mouse, enamored by the fox's gentle touch, yearns for its claws tracing down her back in every night's embrace when their souls entwine."

Raphael's cheeks flushed with a small blush. His defenses threatened to crumble, replaced momentarily with vulnerability. Yet, as he regained his composure, a sly smirk formed on his lips. "Oh little mouse," he retorted with an edge in his voice, attempting to regain his devilish demeanor, "naivety clouds your eyes, for wickedness resides where tenderness lies.” A dark chuckle emanated from Raphael, "Beware, dear mouse, of the sly fox’s cunning grace, as he may cast aside what’s left of his prey with no remorse to trace.” He looks off into his crowded house, his eyes finding Haarlep as his hand rests on his chin, “I’m sure Haarlep would surely make good use of what's left of you."

You, however, knew Raphael better than anyone else. You understood the possessiveness that fueled his words, the depth of his affection for you, "The fox is far too possessive to let such a fate befall his treasured mouse. Your threats only reveal how deeply you care."

[imtrashraccoon]

Sorry about the shorter chapter today. This prompt was tricky to fit into the current arc and I realized I couldn't include a little scene at the end. So I had to cut it, but not to worry! I should be able to make up for it tomorrow.

@owl-bones

First, Previous, & Next Day

Bad Sansuary II: Nightmare - Paint

Word Count: 598

Note: Donovan is the name I chose for Nightmare in this AU.

Before either of you could even begin to explain, Donovan suddenly whipped out a vial containing a glowing cyan liquid. He dipped a single phalanx into the paint and, using his tendrils to hold you still, traced an odd pattern on your forehead.

"Don't touch it," he growled when he finally released you.

You let out a huff and crossed your arms, fully aware that it made you look like a petulant child but not caring either way. You were only curious about why he had randomly decided to mess up your fur. Whatever that was smelled sort of earthy and you had the urge to spread it all over your face.

Donovan turned to Dirk, who had been looking at you with an amused look. The rogue was given similar treatment as you, although he didn't struggle as much, possibly because he knew better. When Donovan pulled back, you noticed he had drawn a closed eye on Dirk's skull.

"Why did you do that?" you asked.

Donovan let out a quiet hum. "I heard about what happened from Reven and Maul. This special paint has been imbued with my own mana and will protect you from the eye's influence."

Before you could express your amazement at how quickly he had figured out a solution to the possible mind control, the dark lord fully turned his attention on you. "How careless could you be?" he growled as his tendrils tightened around your wrists. "If anything had happened to you, I... I don't know what I would do if I lost you!"

You bit your lower lip and glanced away, flattening your ears against your skull in shame. "I'm sorry. We were trying to leave, I-!"

He interrupted by pulling you into a tender kiss, swallowing your gasp of surprise. It was like his frustration disappeared the moment he had finished scolding you.

"Dearest, the fortress is so lonely without you," he whispered against your lips before he drew back again. "I want nothing more than to bring you home right now..."

Dirk cleared his non-existent throat awkwardly, reminding you that he was still in the room. "that might be easier said than done..." he murmured, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on his feet.

"How so?" Donovan inquired, turning around to face him.

The rogue jerked his thumb to the door he was still leaning against. "behind this door is the creepiest monster i've ever laid eyes on and a half dozen robed freaks."

An amused grin spread across the dark lord's face as he glanced at the cultist robes you were wearing. "Am I to presume you tried to disguise yourselves with their own costumes?"

"something like that..." Dirk muttered as he removed the cloak, dropping it on the ground like a piece of trash. "that monster is somehow suppressing my mana so we had no choice but to try sneaking out."

"I see." Donovan stroked his chin thoughtfully. "That explains why my scrying wasn't working. I was able to transport myself to my dear Scout thanks to our soul connection, but it seems that now even my own mana is limited."

"So what do we do?" you asked quietly.

"We leave by whichever means necessary."

You raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I gathered that much, but that thing outside is really strong. What if we have to fight it?"

Donovan gave you a strange look, as if he was wondering if you were serious. "Then we fight it," he stated in a matter of fact voice. "I swear, I will ensure that we get out of here alive."

[pankowcrumbs]

Book Date X Rudy Pankow (requested)

MasterList

Outerbanks and Cast Masterlist

The scent of old paper and freshly brewed coffee greeted us as we stepped into the cozy little bookstore. It wasn’t a chain, just a small, locally owned place with mismatched furniture and an entire section dedicated to books no one had heard of.

Rudy’s hand slid into mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “I thought this would be a good spot for a first date,” he said, his boyish grin making my heart flutter. “Less pressure than dinner or something fancy.”

“It’s perfect,” I said, meaning it.

He smiled, and his hazel eyes sparkled. “Alright, here’s the plan. We explore every corner, and by the end, we each pick a book for the other. Deal?”

“Deal.”

We wandered through the aisles, stopping to pull out random books and share our thoughts on the covers or titles. Rudy had a knack for finding the strangest ones—memoirs of obscure inventors, novels with impossibly long titles, and one about the philosophy of cats that made us laugh until my sides ached.

“Look at this one,” I said, holding up a worn copy of Wuthering Heights. “A classic.”

Rudy tilted his head, pretending to analyze it. “Hmm. Too dramatic. I don’t think Heathcliff’s really your type.”

“Oh, and who is my type?” I teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Someone with great hair and a good sense of humor,” he said without missing a beat, running a hand through his messy blond waves.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress my smile.

After what felt like hours of wandering, Rudy disappeared into another aisle, leaving me alone in the poetry section. I skimmed the spines, running my fingers over their edges until he reappeared with a book in hand, holding it behind his back.

“I found it,” he said triumphantly.

“Let me see!” I reached for it, but he stepped back, shaking his head.

“Not yet. We’ve got to pay first. And no peeking.”

We checked out, Rudy insisting on buying both books—his pick for me and mine for him. “It’s the gentlemanly thing to do,” he said with a wink.

Afterward, we settled on one of the bookstore’s overstuffed sofas, sipping coffee from mismatched mugs and flipping through our new treasures. The book he picked for me was a beautifully bound edition of The Secret Garden. I opened it, inhaling the scent of fresh pages.

“This is one of my favorites,” I said, smiling at him.

“Thought you might like it,” he replied, his expression warm.

Years later, I sat cross-legged on the floor of our apartment, sorting through an old box of books. Rudy was in the kitchen, humming a tune as he washed dishes. It had been one of those lazy Sundays where we did nothing but stay home, and it was perfect.

As I rifled through the box, my fingers brushed against the familiar green cover of The Secret Garden. I pulled it out, a wave of nostalgia washing over me. Sitting back, I opened the book, flipping through its pages until something caught my eye.

On the first blank page, Rudy’s handwriting stared back at me, messy but endearing.

"To Y/N, You’ve already made this the best first date of my life. I don’t know what the future holds, but something tells me this is the start of something amazing. Here’s to many more adventures together. - Rudy."

My throat tightened as I read it, the words bringing me back to that night in the bookstore. I traced the letters with my fingertips, a smile tugging at my lips.

“Rudy?” I called, my voice slightly shaky.

He appeared in the doorway, drying his hands on a towel. “Yeah?”

“Come here.”

He walked over, dropping the towel onto the couch as he crouched beside me. “What’s up?”

I held up the book, open to the page with his note. “I found this.”

He squinted at the page, then his face broke into a grin. “You kept it?”

“Of course, I did. How could I not?”

Rudy sank to the floor beside me, leaning against the couch. “I almost chickened out writing that, you know.”

“Why?”

He shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face. “I didn’t want to scare you off. It was our first date, and I was already… I don’t know, pretty smitten.”

My heart swelled. “You didn’t scare me off. In fact, it’s one of my favorite memories.”

Rudy took the book from me, flipping through the pages absently before closing it and holding it between us. “You want to know something?”

“What?”

He met my eyes, his expression soft and serious. “That night, I knew. I knew you were the one.”

The room felt suddenly quieter, his words hanging in the air between us. “You knew?” I whispered.

He nodded. “I mean, I didn’t know how it would all play out, but I just… I couldn’t imagine not having you in my life after that. You made everything feel easy, like I’d known you forever.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I leaned forward, pressing my forehead to his. “I love you,” I said, my voice barely audible.

“I love you too,” he murmured, his hand cupping my cheek.

We sat like that for a moment, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s presence. Then Rudy leaned back, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes.

“Hey, if you’re going to keep this book as a keepsake, you better keep it in good condition. No coffee stains or dog-eared pages, okay?”

I laughed, swatting his arm. “I think it’s safe to say it’s already priceless.”

“Good,” he said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close. “Because that’s how I feel about you.”

As we sat there, the book resting on my lap, I thought about how far we’d come since that first date. Rudy was right—something amazing had started that night, and it was still unfolding, one beautiful page at a time.

[isekaivillainess]

nonsense

izumi catches chikage off-guard by her honest (drunken) nonsense.

It was a rare occurrence for Chikage to join Izumi for drinks, but it was happening. As such, he was also becoming privy to her drinking habits: picking a fight with everyone within a mile radius. 

There was a part of him that found it amusing, if not for the fact he was now in charge of hauling her away from the bar, because she was beginning to talk in loud volumes, and disturbing the other customers. Before she could argue the rest of her points about The Grapevine to a group of office workers, and why it happened to be the greatest stage play ever but the director was a “lousy, son of a bitch” for changing the male lead actor, he bribed her away with the promise of curry to erase the alcohol in her system. 

Now, she was giggling, half-singing, half-humming a ridiculous song about spices, in alphabetical order, he might add, and generally being excited at the prospect of eating curry again past midnight. He was walking a few steps back, when Izumi finally stopped her song and started skipping instead.

Chikage couldn't find it in himself to get drunk, however, opting for one drink, as if instinctively he had to look out for the director. Still, he couldn’t quite hide the amusement on his face from her antics. Part of him wanted to pull his phone out, take a snapshot of the moment, but hesitated.

As if she suddenly sensed his untoward thoughts about her, Izumi paused in her tracks and stared at him in concentration.

Chikage tilted his head, regarding her carefully, and watched her brows pinch together in seriousness. The backdrop of the city lights surrounded her in a halo of reds, yellows, and greens. Cars passed by, along with the late-night wanderers, but Izumi was in her own little world, arms crossed, and contemplated something in her mind.

Chikage simply waited, a small wind brushing a lock of his hair away, and his face half-hidden in the shadow of the buildings. 

“Yes?,” He prompted, hoping to bring her out of her stupor. 

Without warning, Izumi closed the distance and reached for him.

"Don't leave," Izumi pouted, grabbing the lapels of his jacket. "You can't leave Mankai."

Was she still worried he was going to disappear one day and never come back?

Why, all of a sudden?

Chikage’s lips curled softly, decidedly curious about her reasoning. “And why not?”

Izumi's brow furrowed again. "Your…family. Here. You can't leave them."

She dipped her head, before looking up at him again and poked him in the chest empathetically. "You can't leave me."

Izumi held his gaze in earnestness, a flicker of worry crossing her face, even while something else lurked behind her eyes. 

Chikage blinked slowly. Something tugged in his chest but he ignored it, figuring it wasn't worth the inspection right now. 

Izumi only continued. “...Who’s gonna side with me when it's time to make curry? Everyone always makes fun of my curry obsession!" 

The moment was gone, and Chikage could only blink, dumbfounded by her sudden declaration. 

“Except Masumi-kun, who else would be on my side?,” Izumi shook him, the traces of seriousness gone from her voice replaced by drunken nonsensical arguments that only made sense to her. 

For a minute, Chikage could only stare at her in disappointment. Then, he closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed deeply.

The director was losing it.

He started to reach for her arm, to remove the fists gripping his jacket so tightly, but Izumi batted it away. Half a second later, she was barfing on the sidewalk, and he rubbed comforting circles on her back. Before she could fall flat on her face, Chikage scooped her up into his arms.

"My head hurts," Izumi half-murmured, half-groaned, into his shoulders. 

He rolled his eyes, a slight annoyance blossoming in chest that he couldn't suppress. Chikage needed to get her home, immediately.

[starmatzz]

Chapter 17: Guilt

Treasure Of Utopia

Seonghwa sat calmly in the dining hall, his chin resting on his hand as his eyes followed Wooyoung darting around the kitchen like a whirlwind. Pots clattered, cabinets slammed shut, and Wooyoung muttered to himself as if he were on the verge of solving the world’s greatest problem.

“Broth… broth,” Wooyoung said, frantically opening another cabinet. “Mom always said broth is good during pregnancy!” His voice was edged with both determination and a tinge of panic as he grabbed a pot and set it on the old stove with a loud clank.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile. “Wooyoung, you’re acting like you’re the one who’s pregnant,” he teased, leaning back in his chair.

Wooyoung spun around, a wooden spoon in one hand and a packet of spices in the other. “Excuse me?” he said, looking both flustered and indignant. “I’m helping! Someone has to make sure everything is perfect. This isn’t just about food, Seonghwa. It’s about care, comfort, support!”

Seonghwa chuckled softly. “I think you’re stressing yourself out more than me.  Maybe you should sit down and let the broth take care of itself.”

But Wooyoung shook his head vehemently, already tossing ingredients into the pot like his life depended on it. “No way. This is going to be the best broth ever. Mark my words, Seonghwa!”

Seonghwa sighed, his expression fond as he watched Wooyoung move with unrelenting energy. “Just don’t burn the kitchen down, alright?”

“Are you planning to tell Hongjoong?” Wooyoung suddenly asked, his tone dropping into something more serious, the usual playfulness gone. He turned from the stove to glance at Seonghwa, who had gone quiet, his fingers tracing the rim of the cup in front of him.

Seonghwa took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself. “Yes,” he finally said, his voice soft but resolute. “Don’t get me wrong, Wooyoung. I am actually happy. I’ve always wanted this—to see my own pups running around, to give them the kind of love my mom gave me.” A small, wistful smile tugged at his lips as he spoke.

But then, his gaze dropped to the table, and his shoulders seemed to curl inward just slightly. “I just…” he trailed off, his fingers tightening around the cup. “My mom would be so happy. She’d probably cry tears of joy the moment she heard. And it makes me miss home even more.” His voice cracked just a little at the end, the longing in his words evident.

Wooyoung stepped away from the stove, wiping his hands on a apron as he moved to sit across from Seonghwa. “You’ll tell him,” he said quietly, his usual energy replaced with a gentler presence. “And when you do, you’ll have a new home—a family. And she’ll be proud of you, Seonghwa. I know it.”

But life on a ship, with pirates—no offense, Wooyoung—” Seonghwa sighed, his shoulders slumping as he stared down at the table, “isn’t for me.” His voice was tinged with weariness, a sadness that had never quite left him since the day his world was turned upside down. “I’m a prince. I was supposed to take on the duty of becoming the next king.”

Wooyoung, who had been stirring the broth absentmindedly, froze. His eyes flicked to Seonghwa, his usual playful demeanor replaced with quiet seriousness. “Seonghwa…” he started softly, but Seonghwa continued, his voice growing quieter.

“They must think I abandoned them. My mother, my people… everyone I was supposed to protect,” Seonghwa murmured, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt. “I disappeared without a trace. And even though I didn’t choose this, it doesn’t change the fact that I left them behind.”

The room felt heavier, the quiet bubbling of the broth the only sound. Wooyoung set the spoon down carefully and crossed the room, leaning against the table to look at Seonghwa. “Seonghwa, listen to me,” he said gently, his tone unusually soft. “You didn’t abandon them. You didn’t ask for any of this. What happened to you… it wasn’t your fault.”

Seonghwa looked up, his eyes filled with anguish. “But they don’t know that. All they know is that I’m gone. How do I go back after all this time? How do I face them knowing I couldn’t stop it?”

Wooyoung sighed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back against the counter. “Don’t stress now, Seonghwa,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Everything will end well. You’ve been through too much to give up now.”

Seonghwa glanced at him, his expression conflicted, but Wooyoung wasn’t finished. He crossed his arms, his gaze steady. “And Hongjoong loves you, doesn’t he? That man would do anything for you. You know that as well as I do.”

At the mention of Hongjoong, Seonghwa’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze falling to the table. The thought of Hongjoong did bring some comfort, but it also made the weight on his chest feel heavier. “He does,” Seonghwa admitted softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But sometimes I wonder if I’m just a burden to him. All this… everything I bring with me.”

“Burden?” Wooyoung scoffed, shaking his head. “If you think for a second that Hongjoong sees you as a burden, you don’t know him at all. He’s our captain for a reason, Seonghwa, but more than that, he’s someone who loves you for who you are—not for where you came from or what’s happened to you.”

Seonghwa’s shoulders relaxed slightly at Wooyoung’s words, though the sadness in his eyes didn’t completely fade. “I hope you’re right,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against the edge of the table.

“I know I’m right,” Wooyoung said confidently, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Now, stop overthinking and trust him. Trust us. You’re not alone in this.”

Seonghwa glanced up at him, the faintest hint of a smile creeping onto his face. “Thanks, Wooyoung,” he said quietly, the words carrying a touch more hope this time.

The day dragged on, with Seonghwa keeping himself busy to avoid getting lost in his thoughts. Hongjoong had been absent the entire day, holed up with Jongho in the captain’s quarters, pouring over maps and charts as they planned tomorrow’s adventure. By the time dinner rolled around, Seonghwa realized it was the first time he’d seen Hongjoong all day.

The dining hall was lively as usual, the crew laughing and chatting as they filled their plates. Seonghwa sat quietly at the long table, absently pushing his food around with his fork, when he felt a familiar presence beside him.

“Long day?” Hongjoong asked, his voice soft but carrying a hint of exhaustion. He slid into the seat next to Seonghwa, his captain’s coat draped over his shoulders and his hair slightly disheveled, as though he hadn’t stopped moving since sunrise.

Seonghwa glanced up, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the lingering weight in his chest. “I could say the same to you,” he replied, his tone light but warm. “You’ve been locked away with Jongho all day. I was starting to think you forgot about us.”

Hongjoong chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hardly. Jongho’s just… thorough,” he said, a touch of fond exasperation in his voice. “But I’m here now. That counts, right?”

“It does,” Seonghwa said softly, his gaze lingering on Hongjoong for a moment longer than usual. In the noise of the dining hall, the two of them seemed to carve out a small, quiet bubble, just for themselves.

As they ate, Hongjoong’s hand found its way to Seonghwa’s thigh, his touch gentle but steady, a quiet reassurance in the chaotic atmosphere of the dining hall. Seonghwa glanced down briefly, his heart fluttering at the small gesture, but he quickly composed himself, not wanting to draw attention to the moment.

His eyes shifted around the room, scanning the familiar faces of the crew. Everyone seemed caught up in their usual banter and laughter, but two particular seats were conspicuously empty. Yunho and Mingi were both missing.

Seonghwa frowned slightly. It wasn’t unusual for Mingi to skip meals—he often claimed he preferred solitude when he wasn’t feeling up to the noise—but Yunho’s absence was rare. He was almost always at the table, a calming presence even in the most chaotic moments.

“Yunho and Mingi aren’t here,” Seonghwa murmured, his voice low enough that only Hongjoong could hear.

Hongjoong paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. He followed Seonghwa’s gaze toward the empty seats, his brow furrowing slightly. “Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, setting his fork down. “That’s strange for Yunho. Did you see him at all today?”

Seonghwa shook his head. “No, I haven’t. I assumed he was busy helping out somewhere, but it’s odd for him to miss dinner.” He lied. 

Hongjoong tapped his fingers lightly on the table, his expression thoughtful. “I’ll check on him after we finish here,” he said. Then, with a faint smile, he gave Seonghwa’s thigh a small squeeze. “Don’t worry too much, love. Yunho can handle himself. And Mingi… well, you know how he is.”

Seonghwa nodded, though the faint unease in his chest didn’t entirely dissipate. Still, the warmth of Hongjoong’s touch anchored him, and he tried to push the thought aside for now, focusing instead on the quiet comfort of their shared moment.

“Attention, everyone!” Jongho’s deep voice cut through the chatter of the dining hall as he strode in, his presence commanding instant attention. He stood tall near the center of the room, a confident gleam in his eyes as he addressed the crew.

“The island we’ve been looking for is just a few kilometers ahead of us,” he announced, his words sending an electric current through the air. The room seemed to hold its breath as he continued. “Get ready for tomorrow—because we’re going to find the treasure!”

With that, Jongho raised a goblet filled with rum, the liquid catching the dim light of the lanterns. His voice rang out boldly as he declared, “To adventure and glory!”

The room erupted into cheers, the sound reverberating off the walls as the crew raised their own drinks in response. “To the treasure!” someone shouted, and the chant quickly spread, filling the room with infectious excitement.

Seonghwa watched the scene unfold, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the unease lingering in the back of his mind. He felt Hongjoong’s hand give his thigh another reassuring squeeze under the table, grounding him once again.

“Big day tomorrow,” Hongjoong said, leaning closer so Seonghwa could hear him over the noise. His eyes sparkled with a mix of determination and mischief. “Hope you’re ready for it.”

Seonghwa nodded, his heart caught between the thrill of the crew’s energy and the weight of the uncertainty ahead. 

“Amazing job, captain,” Wooyoung said with a grin, patting Hongjoong’s back enthusiastically. His energy was as infectious as ever, and the lighthearted praise drew a faint smile from Hongjoong.

“Thanks, Wooyoung,” Hongjoong replied, his tone warm but carrying a subtle exhaustion. “Let’s just hope the hard work pays off tomorrow.”

Across the room, Yeosang approached Jongho, his usual calm demeanor accompanied by a genuine smile. Jongho had barely set down his goblet when Yeosang clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You worked hard today,” Yeosang said, his voice steady but full of encouragement.

Jongho tilted his head slightly, meeting Yeosang's gaze. A small but proud smile crept onto his face. “Thanks, Yeosang,” he replied, his tone modest. “But we’re not done yet. Tomorrow’s going to be the real test.”

Yeosang chuckled softly, giving Jongho’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I know, but you’ve got this. We all do.”

The two shared a brief moment of mutual respect before the noise of the dining hall pulled them back into the lively atmosphere. As the crew laughed and toasted to their upcoming adventure, the camaraderie between them all felt stronger than ever, a quiet reassurance that no matter what lay ahead, they would face it together.

After the celebration wound down, Hongjoong and Seonghwa slipped out of the dining hall together, the noise fading behind them. Hongjoong’s arm was wrapped snugly around Seonghwa’s waist, his touch both protective and possessive. As they reached the quiet corridor outside the crew quarters, Hongjoong leaned closer, his breath warm against Seonghwa’s ear.

“You smell different today,” Hongjoong murmured, his voice low and teasing. “Sweeter…”

Seonghwa froze for a moment, his cheeks flushing a deep red. He knew exactly what Hongjoong meant, and the realization made his heart race.

Hongjoong stopped walking, pulling them to a halt just outside their quarters. His lips curved into a mischievous smile as he whispered, “Maybe I’ll have you as dessert tonight.” He leaned in, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to Seonghwa’s lips, his fingers tightening slightly on Seonghwa’s waist.

Seonghwa’s breath caught in his throat, his mind spinning. This was the moment—he had to tell Hongjoong now. “Hongjoong, I—” he started, his voice trembling slightly as he began to speak.

But before he could finish, Hongjoong pulled away, a look of sudden realization crossing his face. “Ah, almost forgot,” he said, his tone shifting to one of casual urgency. “I need to check on Yunho.”

He gave Seonghwa a quick, apologetic smile and a soft squeeze on his waist before stepping back. “Don’t wait up for me, okay?” he said with a wink before disappearing down the hallway, leaving Seonghwa standing there, his words caught in his throat and his heart sinking with the missed opportunity.

Seonghwa sighed quietly, the weight of the evening and the words he hadn’t yet spoken hanging heavily on his mind. He made his way to the quarters, the soft click of the door shutting behind him the only sound in the dimly lit hallway.

Without another thought, he crawled into the bed, the sheets cool against his skin. His mind replayed the moments with Hongjoong—the teasing, the closeness, the unspoken tension that still lingered in the air. It was all so much, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to voice what had been building up inside him since morning.

With a soft sigh, he pulled the sheets over his body and closed his eyes, willing himself to forget for just a moment. The exhaustion from the day, both physical and emotional, finally caught up with him. His hand instinctively drifted to rest protectively on his stomach, the small, comforting gesture soothing him as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

Hongjoong stood outside Yunho’s door, his hand still resting on the handle, waiting for some sign of response. A few seconds passed, then a loud, frustrated voice came from behind the door.

“Get lost!” Yunho shouted, his tone harsh, a reflection of the tension that had been building all day.

Hongjoong didn’t flinch. His jaw tightened, but his voice remained steady, firm. “Yunho.”

There was a long silence, and for a moment, Hongjoong wondered if Yunho would refuse to acknowledge him entirely. But then, the door creaked open slowly, revealing Yunho standing there, his posture slumped, his eyes red and puffy as though he had been crying.

“I apologize, Captain…” Yunho’s voice was quieter now, almost hollow. His gaze didn’t meet Hongjoong’s, his hands fidgeting at his sides, clearly struggling with something deep inside.

Hongjoong’s expression softened, though there was a firmness in his eyes. He stepped closer, not saying anything for a moment, giving Yunho space to gather himself.

“You don’t have to apologize, Yunho,” Hongjoong said, his voice gentle but firm. “But I need to know what’s going on. Why are you shutting everyone out?”

Yunho finally met his gaze, though the vulnerability in his eyes was hard to ignore. He opened his mouth as though to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he lowered his head, shaking it slightly. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Hongjoong nodded, his expression softening as he took a small step back, respecting Yunho’s space. “Okay, I won’t force you to talk about it,” he said quietly. “But whenever you’re ready, just know you can talk to me.”

He placed a hand on Yunho’s shoulder briefly, offering a touch of reassurance before asking, “Have you seen Mingi?”

At the mention of Mingi’s name, Hongjoong felt Yunho stiffen. His body tensed visibly, and for a brief moment, Hongjoong could sense the unease lingering beneath the surface. Yunho shook his head, his eyes downcast.

“No, I haven’t seen him,” Yunho muttered, his voice low, almost guarded. Then, his tone shifted, growing more serious. “But… he’s in rut. You might wanna keep an eye on Seonghwa.”

The weight of Yunho’s words hit Hongjoong instantly. His brows furrowed as he processed the implications. “In rut?” Hongjoong repeated, his voice tight with concern. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Yunho sighed, his shoulders slumping even more. “I wasn’t sure if you were aware, Captain. I thought it would be best to let you know now, just in case.” He looked up at Hongjoong, his expression apologetic. “I didn’t want to cause any more trouble.”

Hongjoong’s gaze hardened slightly, though his voice remained calm. “I appreciate you telling me, Yunho. I’ll make sure Seonghwa’s safe. Don’t worry about him. Just take care of yourself, alright?” He gave Yunho a final, firm nod, his hand lingering for a moment longer on his shoulder before pulling back.

“I’ll check on Mingi,” Hongjoong added. “And make sure everything’s handled. But if you need anything—anything at all—don’t hesitate to reach out.”

Yunho gave a small, reluctant nod, a silent gratitude in his eyes. “Thanks, Captain.”

With that, Hongjoong turned to leave, the weight of the situation settling heavily on his shoulders. He had a lot to take care of, and his instincts told him that things were only going to get more complicated from here.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Hongjoong let out a long, heavy sigh. His fingers ran through his hair in frustration, eyes briefly closing as he tried to shake off the tension that had built up over the past few days. He couldn’t help but feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him. Yunho and Mingi—two of his closest crew members—were at odds, and it seemed like there was always some misunderstanding between them. No matter how much they tried to move forward, there was something that always held them back.

Hongjoong shook his head, pushing the thoughts aside for now. He needed to focus, and his priority was clear. Mingi’s rut was something he couldn’t ignore, especially with Seonghwa’s well-being potentially at risk.

His mind snapped back to the present as he straightened, his gaze narrowing with renewed determination. He didn’t have time to dwell on Yunho and Mingi’s complicated dynamics. He needed to find Mingi and make sure everything was under control before things got worse.

Hongjoong moved quickly down the hallway, his steps purposeful. He checked the usual places Mingi might retreat to—the crew’s shared spaces, the cargo hold, but there was no sign of him. The closer he got to the crew quarters, the more he could feel the tension building in the air.

When he finally reached the door to Mingi’s room, he hesitated for only a moment before knocking softly. “Mingi?” Hongjoong called out, his voice low but firm. “It’s Hongjoong. We need to talk.”

There was no response, and after a beat, Hongjoong pushed the door open, stepping inside cautiously. His eyes adjusted to the dim light, and he immediately spotted Mingi sitting on the bed, looking disheveled, his breathing erratic. Hongjoong’s heart sank as he saw the familiar signs of someone in the midst of their rut.

“Mingi…” Hongjoong began softly, his voice filled with concern. “Are you alright? I know this isn’t easy, but we need to talk. You need to take care of yourself, okay?”

Mingi looked up, his eyes heavy with confusion and something else—pain. He opened his mouth to speak, but his words were lost in the haze of his condition.

“Wooyoung had some herbs, maybe they will help,” he suggested gently, trying to keep his voice calm and steady. He could feel the tension in the room, the air thick with unspoken emotions. “But we need to talk, Mingi. You need to rest, take care of yourself—”

Before he could finish, Hongjoong paused, sensing the subtle shift in Mingi’s demeanor. The air seemed to grow heavier, and Mingi’s eyes, once clouded with the confusion of his rut, suddenly flashed a deep, fiery red. Hongjoong could feel the change in the atmosphere almost instantly, the heat of Mingi’s gaze locking onto him with intense focus.

As the sharp, predatory gleam in Mingi’s eyes remained, Hongjoong instinctively took a cautious step back, his hand lowering slightly, though he kept his voice steady. “What happened between you and Yunho?” he asked softly, his tone more curious than confrontational. “You two have been distant, and it’s affecting everyone. You both deserve clarity.”

At the mention of Yunho’s name, Mingi’s body stiffened, his jaw tightening. He didn’t respond immediately, but the rage simmering beneath the surface was unmistakable. His fists clenched at his sides, his breathing uneven.

Hongjoong kept his distance, giving Mingi space to process, knowing the pressure of his rut made everything more volatile. “Mingi, you don’t have to do this alone. Whatever happened with Yunho… it’s not just about him or you. The whole crew feels it. We need to fix this, together.”

The flicker of anger in Mingi’s eyes dimmed just slightly, but the raw emotion in his gaze remained. “You don’t understand,” Mingi growled softly, his voice low but edged with frustration. “It’s not just him.” His teeth were bared now, the conflict clear in the twitch of his muscles. He looked away, as though unsure of what to say next.

Hongjoong held Mingi’s gaze for a long moment, his expression softened with patience. “Then help me understand,” he said quietly. “I’m here for you, but I need you to let me in. You don’t have to fight everything on your own, Mingi. Not with me, not with Yunho.”

For a long moment, there was silence between them, broken only by Mingi’s labored breathing. The weight of everything seemed to settle in the room, leaving Hongjoong waiting, ready to listen, hoping that Mingi would finally share what had been haunting him.

Mingi’s eyes, once filled with confusion and pain, flared with something more intense now—anger. The tension in his posture seemed to snap, and he stepped forward, his words laced with frustration.

“Seonghwa’s pregnant,” Mingi spat, his voice thick with emotion. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, his breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. “And it’s your fault. You didn’t even mark him. You’ve been so wrapped up in everything else, you didn’t even notice what was happening right under your nose.”

Hongjoong blinked, shocked by the rawness in Mingi’s words. He had never seen Mingi so angry, his eyes burning with jealousy. The room felt smaller as Mingi’s emotions swirled, and Hongjoong could feel the weight of everything crashing down on him in an instant.

“What are you talking about?” Hongjoong asked, his voice more cautious now, trying to understand the storm that was building in front of him. “Mingi, I don’t—”

“Don’t lie to me, Captain!” Mingi’s voice cracked, and there was an edge to his words now, a desperate sort of pain. “You’ve been so distracted with your plans, with your damn crew, you didn’t even notice Seonghwa slipping away. He’s been hiding it, and now—now he’s pregnant, and you’ve done nothing! You didn’t mark him, you didn’t claim him.” He shoved his hand into his hair, looking like he wanted to tear it out. “Do you even care about him? Do you even care about any of us?”

The anger in Mingi’s words hung heavily in the air. Hongjoong took a step back, the weight of his failure settling over him. His mind raced, and for a moment, he couldn’t respond, caught off guard by the bitterness and the truth in Mingi’s words.

Mingi’s chest heaved with every breath, his frustration palpable. “I’ve been here, doing everything for this damn crew. And all the while, I’ve been left out. Left out of everything. You never notice, you never see me. And now… Seonghwa’s pregnant, and you’ve done nothing to protect him. You’ve failed him, Hongjoong. You’ve failed all of us.”

Hongjoong felt the sharpness of Mingi’s words pierce him, the guilt that had been building inside him for so long now boiling over. Mingi wasn’t just angry at Seonghwa’s situation—he was angry at Hongjoong himself. And the jealousy was undeniable.

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong finally said, his voice quiet, but there was no hiding the hurt in his tone. He met Mingi’s gaze, his own eyes filled with regret. “I didn’t mean to fail Seonghwa. I didn’t even know… about the pregnancy. I should have noticed sooner, should have been more present.” He paused, swallowing hard. “And I’m sorry for making you feel left out. I never wanted that.”

Mingi let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sorry doesn’t change anything,” he muttered, his voice low and full of hurt. “You’ve been too busy with everything else to see what’s been right in front of you. You always put everyone else first, and we’re just left picking up the pieces. But I’m done, Hongjoong. I’m done being ignored.”

Before Hongjoong could respond, Mingi turned away, his back to him, his shoulders shaking with the weight of his emotions. “Do whatever you want. Just don’t act like you care now. You’ve already failed.”

Hongjoong stood frozen in the middle of the room, the gravity of Mingi’s words sinking deep into his chest. He had always prided himself on being a leader, on taking care of his crew. But this? This was a failure of the deepest kind. And as Mingi’s anger continued to echo in the air, Hongjoong realized that there was no easy way to fix the damage that had been done.

Hongjoong walked down the dimly lit hallway, his heart heavy, each step feeling like an eternity. His chest ached with the weight of Mingi’s anger, his own guilt tightening around him like a vice. He tried to push everything out of his mind, but the words lingered, echoing in his thoughts: “You’ve failed him… you’ve failed all of us.”

By the time he reached the quarters, he could barely hold himself together. His fingers trembled as he pushed open the door, entering the room as quietly as possible. The sight of Seonghwa asleep in their bed immediately stopped him in his tracks.

Seonghwa’s face was peaceful, a soft, serene expression that made Hongjoong’s heart ache even more. But as his gaze traveled down, his eyes caught the hand resting gently on Seonghwa’s stomach. Hongjoong’s breath hitched, and his vision blurred with the weight of what that simple gesture meant.

The realization hit him like a physical blow, and his body shook. The tears came fast and hot, and he covered his mouth, choking on the sobs that escaped him. He had failed Seonghwa, failed to protect him, failed to notice what was happening, and now, the consequences were clear. The child… it was already growing inside Seonghwa, and Hongjoong had no idea how to fix what had gone wrong.

Hongjoong stood there for what felt like hours, his body trembling, his heart breaking as he looked at Seonghwa, so unaware of the pain and guilt that consumed him. He knelt beside the bed, reaching out hesitantly, his hand hovering over Seonghwa’s, not quite able to touch him.

How could I let this happen?

The tears streamed freely now, and Hongjoong allowed himself to cry, to feel the weight of everything he had failed to do. He had always promised to protect Seonghwa, to keep him safe, and now this—he hadn’t even noticed when Seonghwa had needed him the most.

Seonghwa shifted in his sleep, his hand instinctively moving to rest on his stomach more securely. Hongjoong’s heart clenched painfully as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair from Seonghwa’s face.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, barely able to get the words out. “I should have been there… I should have seen it…”

He stayed there, kneeling beside Seonghwa’s bed, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. The guilt, the regret, and the pain of knowing he had let Seonghwa down were overwhelming. Hongjoong knew he couldn’t undo what had happened, but the least he could do now was be there for Seonghwa.

He wiped his face with the back of his hand, steadying himself, taking a deep breath. There was so much he needed to do, so much to make right, but for now, all he could do was watch over Seonghwa as he slept, vowing silently to never let him feel so alone again.

Hongjoong carefully crawled into bed beside Seonghwa, his heart still heavy, yet something in him longed to be close to the man he loved. He had spent so much time lost in his guilt, in the weight of Mingi’s anger, but now, lying next to Seonghwa, the need to protect him, to hold him, overwhelmed everything else.

He gently wrapped his arm around Seonghwa, pulling him close, careful not to disturb him too much. The warmth of Seonghwa’s body against his own felt like a fragile comfort in the midst of the chaos. Hongjoong closed his eyes, his forehead resting lightly against Seonghwa’s, as if the simple touch could somehow bring clarity to the mess he’d created.

We never even talked about pups, Hongjoong thought, his chest tightening at the thought. We were never even fully…

The unspoken truth, the bond that had always been there between them, weighed heavily on Hongjoong’s mind. He had never marked Seonghwa, never fully claimed him as his own. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to—it was more like he kept putting it off, thinking they had all the time in the world. But now, everything had changed. Seonghwa was carrying their child, and Hongjoong had failed to take the steps to protect him, to make him feel secure.

Seonghwa shifted in his sleep, and Hongjoong instinctively pulled him closer, his heart breaking at the vulnerability he saw in his peaceful face. The gentle rise and fall of Seonghwa’s chest, the way he still trusted Hongjoong even after everything, made the guilt grow even deeper.

Hongjoong could feel the weight of his own actions pressing down on him, but he also felt the immense responsibility of what was to come. Seonghwa was his—he should’ve protected him better, should’ve claimed him long ago, and now the consequences were more real than ever.

He whispered, though it was more to himself than anyone else, “I’m sorry… I should’ve done better. I should’ve marked you. Should’ve claimed you as mine.” His voice was raw, full of regret.

As he held Seonghwa close, Hongjoong vowed to make it right. No more running away from their bond, no more hiding from the truth of what they were meant to be. They would face this together, and Hongjoong would do everything in his power to protect Seonghwa and their child, no matter what it took.

His hand gently rested on Seonghwa’s stomach, a quiet promise to both him and the life growing inside him. I’ll take care of you. I’ll protect you both.

And for the first time that night, Hongjoong let himself drift into a fitful, restless sleep, determined to make up for the time he had lost.

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