#or questions that are begging for answers

[scarletmika]

Knight in Shining Glasses : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

Summary: All you wanted to do was enjoy your first night in San Diego at the bar recommended to you by your father, but a hot-shot new to the Top Gun program was intent on bringing you home with him, or at least couldn't take a hint. Lucky for you, there's a knight in shining glasses ready to save you.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY (I am not responsible for the media you choose to consume), fluff, language, kind of a pushy douchebag guy is in this, female reader, language, probably incorrect descriptions of the Navy (my dad was a Marine, I'm doing my best lol but I did do a ton of research so hopefully it's accurate-ish), suggestive and steamy but no smut (but boy did we get real close), like a TINY maybe hint of angst for 0.2 seconds

Word Count: 11,044 words

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here

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“Another beer?”

You nodded your head at the gorgeous woman behind the bar, who was already sliding a beer your way before you’d even answered, as if she could read your mind. You gave her a smile in thanks, sighing the second your hand touched the cool glass of the bottle.

San Diego was hot, too hot for your liking. Every piece of fabric on your body felt as if it was clinging to your body right now in a way that had you begging the world just to make it legal to walk around naked. You much preferred the weather back in New England, on the complete opposite side of the country, but you had promised to come to town for a bit. It had been years since you’d seen your father, not since his promotion and subsequent move to San Diego, your conflicting work schedules making it impossible to make the cross-country trip, even if you missed him.

You were here now, though, seated in the bar that had come highly recommended to you straight from him: The Hard Deck, located right on Coronado Beach, just minutes from the Naval Air Station of North Island.

“Local beer?” you questioned the woman as yet another group of rowdy, young Naval aviators came bursting through the doors of the bar, disturbing some of the other guests in the packed bar. The woman, whose nametag you could now see said Penny, just laughed at the antics of her new guests before nodding at you.

“Yeah, local company. They’re pretty popular around here, so I always have to keep them in stock,” you hummed, taking another sip of the drink in your hands. Rich in flavor, maybe with a hint of sweetness that complemented the bitterness it left behind. You could see why it was popular around here. Penny wiped the bar directly in front of you, flashing you a smile. “Now, I know most of my regulars here, and you certainly aren’t one. Where’d you blow into town from?”

“Watertown, New York,” you told her as another group of Naval aviators passed by you in their service khakis, older than the group that had just come in. Your eyes followed them for just a moment, lingering as they moved to the back of the room to the pool tables as if they were there every night, before looking back at Penny. “My father is in the Navy, stationed here in San Diego. Thought it was finally time I visited him.”

“Good, means you know how to deal with the rowdy bunch I have here,” you both laughed as she gestured toward the group of young pilots that had just come through. Someone called to her from further down the bar, and she paid you one final smile. “Holler if you need anything, or if anyone’s giving you trouble.”

“Will do,”

With the jukebox playing off in the corner, Summer of ‘69 by Bryan Adams filling the air, it gave you a chance to really take in the atmosphere. Given the proximity to the Naval Air Station, you weren’t surprised by the amount of Navy paraphernalia that decorated the entire bar. Mugs hung from the ceiling with F18s on them, plenty of pictures of those monster jets hung up around the tables as well. And with the clientele that Penny seemed to attract here, judging by the number of young pilots scattered around, you weren’t surprised that this seemed to have turned into a place many in the Navy flocked to after a long day on base.

The young group of aviators, who seemed to have met up with another group of friends, were loud and rambunctious over by the dart board as they took bets on who could make a bullseye first. You rolled your eyes at their antics with a slight smile, reminded of the stories your father had told of his days, and looked over your shoulder toward that older group by the pool tables.

Easily your age, or at least older and more experienced than the group by the dart board. There was one woman among the groups of men with darker hair, already kicking their asses at the pool game they were playing. That alone quirked your lips up just slightly as you watched Penny deliver a tray of drinks to the group that seemed very personally friendly with her. Ah, so they must be stationed here at North Island and be regulars of the Hard Deck.

They were quite the bunch, from what you observed from the bartop. There was the young man playing alongside the woman, and what seemed like his best friend pestering him after another missed shot. There was a taller, tan blonde who you could tell from here exuded confidence in an over-the-top way, and a friend beside him who also seemed to have that arrogant confidence about him. The man taking the tray from Penny and passing out the drinks had that same confidence and charm, but it almost seemed to roll off of him naturally as if he wasn’t even trying to charm those around him.

It was the one sitting off to the side, silently observing his friends, that caught your eye.

He didn’t exude confidence in the same way that his friends did. He wasn’t walking sex on legs like many would think the tall, overconfident friends of his were…but he was to you. Quiet, simply observing his friends with a tiny smile that stirred something in your chest. One hand holding onto the neck of his beer bottle, the same one you were drinking, and the other casually snacking on a cup of peanuts. You tried, and failed, to keep your eyes from lingering on those long, slender fingers of his, or the fact that, even from here, you could tell his hands were large in a delicious way that had your mind imagining what they’d feel like settled on your bare-

Okay, yeah, maybe it was time to say ‘fuck it’ to your no hook-up rule and get laid on this vacation. You couldn’t be thinking like this over a man you’d been looking at for less than a minute, didn’t even know his name, or had yet to make eye contact with.

But then, when your eyes finally left those slender hands, you were making eye contact with him.

There was an adorable flush crawling across his cheeks, and god were you a sucker for a cute man in some glasses. His lips quirked up in a shy smile as he met your gaze, giving you a tiny nod. A similar flush crept up your neck at being caught staring, giving him a small wink before turning back around to not seem like a creep watching him.

With Penny off taking orders as the bar only seemed to get busier by the minute, and no one around you seemed like good options for a conversation, you found yourself spun around to lean against the bar and observe the room. No time like a crowded bar to people watch.

With a few work emails checked to ensure you weren’t missing anything pressing on your vacation, and a text sent to your father to thank him for the bar recommendation, you found your eyes drifting back to that same Naval aviator once more.

The woman had dragged him from his seat, his beer and peanuts left behind as a pool cue was shoved into his hands as his friends cheered, bringing a grin to your face. Your eyes tracked him as he bent over the table to line up his shot, his friends engrossed in a conversation together, but then his eyes flicked up and met yours again. Your eyebrow shot up as you raised a beer to him, a simultaneous encouragement for him to sink his shot and also a challenge to see if he could. His lips quirked up at that as, without even glancing down to his cue, he took his shot: directly in the pocket without interference. His friends clapped for him, patting him on the back, but his eyes stayed on you. Even with another flush crawling up his neck and nerves practically stitched into his smile, he shot you a wink this time, and you couldn’t stop the giddy grin on your lips.

“Well, never seen girl as pretty you before,”

You didn’t want to stop looking at that gorgeous man in glasses across the bar, but you were intrigued to know who was speaking to you.

He wasn’t the worst-looking man, he was attractive. Dark hair that matched the mustache and the beard that was growing in, which was definitely against grooming standards for the Navy. Pretty brown eyes…but he wasn’t your shy, glasses-sporting boy across the room. Plus, you recognized him from that rowdy bunch of pilots that had walked in beforehand. The smile you’d given the man across the bar dropped into the smallest, friendliest one you could muster as you looked at the name on his badge: Jackson.

“Well, that’s definitely a way to open up a conversation,” you shot back. The man only laughed, leaning against the bar next to you with a charming, over-confident grin on his lips.

“Warrant Officer Daniel Jackson,” he held out his hand to shake yours, and you reluctantly gave it to him. You regretted it the moment he brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, and you quickly took your hand back and slyly wiped it along the side of your jeans. “Friends call me Caveman.”

“Interesting callsign,” you shot back with a fake laugh, tilting your head. “You get that from the unkempt beard that’s clearly not within grooming protocols?

He laughed again, but it did nothing to lift your smile from where it was frozen to be polite. He took a swig from his own beer that he’d brought over with him before leaning closer.

“Funny, and you know the Navy,” you laughed uncomfortably again, taking a subconscious scoot backward on your chair to get away from him. “Brand new to Top Gun, friends and I got in earlier. About to become the best of the best…”

He continued talking, droning on and on about Top Gun and the ‘prestige’ that came with being one of the best of the best (if he could actually get through the vigorous training). In the interest of being polite and not pissing off a man your first night in town, you laughed politely when appropriate and pretended to be listening.

When your eyes glanced back at that man in the glasses, though, he was already looking at you. Back to standing near the seat he’d occupied before, peanuts in his hands and the pool game abandoned as he seemed to be watching you. You gave him a dramatic roll of your eyes, pitching your head toward the pilot still talking your ear off as if to say ‘get a load of this guy,’ and you could see him laugh from across the bar. That simple action sent a flutter through your chest, and god, what you wouldn’t give to actually hear that laugh.

“...I could show you base sometime,” your attention was, sadly, brought back to Caveman beside you, who was still smiling at you as if you were a prize he’d won and wanted to flaunt around the entire bar to each and every patron. “Could sponsor ya for the day, give ya a private tour.”

“That’s sweet, but I’m sure if I wanted to visit the base, my father would happily sponsor me,” you shot back, trying to turn him down as politely as you possibly could. Your comment only seemed to brighten his mood even more.

“Navy dad, you say?” he’d leaned in closer once more, and you were running out of room on the little stool to lean away from him. “Guess that means you know a lot. Dad have rules about…dating pilots?”

Yeah, no, now you were uncomfortable. There was no being polite now, he’d made his intentions clear and could clearly not read your body language. Your body instantly tensed as your eyes avoided his, still trying to keep the most polite smile you could on your lips. Penny was nowhere in sight to help, so your eyes immediately found your pilot across the room.

He was already watching you, it seemed, but when you locked eyes again, he stood up a little straighter, the smile he had on his face dropping slightly. It was as if he could see the way your demeanor had suddenly changed, and god, you hoped he could see it.

“I’m flattered, but I’m not looking for anything like that,” you’d awkwardly laughed out as you looked back at him finally. “I’m just here on vacation.”

That was when his hand settled on top of your knee, and your heart leapt into your throat. The heat of his hand felt like it was burning a hole in your jeans as he squeezed just so.

“Don’t got to be anything serious, I’m down for some fun,”

That polite smile was gone off your face in an instant as you tried to yank your leg from him, but he squeezed it just slightly tighter.

“Okay, Caveman, sounds like you must’ve got your nickname from how you treat women,” that snide comment seemed to drop his confident demeanor immediately. “I’ve turned you down, I’ve made it clear I’m not interested. So I suggest you let me go.”

“Come on, I think you just need to-”

“I’m pretty sure she said let her go, Caveman,”

There was an edge to the voice that cut in, but not one that made you feel on edge yourself. A hand clamped down on your shoulder from behind, firm but not uncomfortable in the way that the hand on your knee was. Grounding, and when it squeezed your shoulder just slightly, it felt comforting. Protective, in a way. And when you finally turned your head and noticed those familiar glasses you’d been staring at all night, and those gorgeous blue eyes hiding behind them, you immediately relaxed into his touch.

Caveman’s hand immediately left your knee as he seemed to sit up a little straighter, putting his hands up in surrender as he looked at the man standing at your side now.

“Lieutenant Floyd-”

“Things are looking tense over here!” those two pilots you’d observed earlier, the ones who exuded confidence in your eyes, suddenly appeared behind Caveman. The taller blonde placed his hand down on his shoulder just as Lieutenant Floyd’s was on yours, and you glanced at their tags: Lt. Seresin and Lt. Bradshaw. The blonde pointed to Caveman, raising an eyebrow at the man at your side. “Baby-on-board, is this man causing trouble?”

Your shoulder was squeezed once more as you turned back to look at the man at your side, feeling another flutter in your chest as you got a good look at those sky blue eyes up close, which made him even more attractive in your eyes. He gave you a small smile, tilting his head toward your ‘friend’ just like you had earlier on.

“Is he bothering you?”

You’d glanced back at Caveman, who seemed semi-scared shitless around these guys, and a smirk curled up on your lips.

“Yes, yes he is,”

“Disrespecting a lady?” it was Penny’s voice now as she reappeared behind the bar, her glare set on that poor pilot that everyone was ganging up on. She ‘tsked’ in his direction, before stepping back to point to a sign hanging just behind her. “It’s your first night here, you should probably check the rules before you get comfortable.”

Disrespect a lady, the Navy, or put your cellphone on my bar…you buy a round.

Alright, Penny might be your new favorite person, besides the hot ass pilot in glasses still comfortably resting his hand on your shoulder as the scene played out before you all.

Caveman never even got a chance to defend himself, as Penny had stepped up to the bell hanging from the ceiling beside the sign, the ring of it echoing throughout the bar. Within seconds, there were chants of ‘OVERBOARD!’ heard throughout the room before Lt. Seresin and Lt. Bradshaw had the man hooked under their arms, dragging him out to the parking lot as his friends quickly followed behind.

“A-Are you okay?”

Your eyes found your pilot’s brilliant blue ones again, this time in front of you as he chose to now occupy the seat Caveman was sitting in just moments prior. You simply stared at him for a moment, still trying to process the entire interaction, before a smile stretched wide across your face.

“You know, I thought the Knight in all the fairytales was wearing shining armor?” you posed it like a question, a teasing tone present in your words as you took a quick swig of your beer, eyes never leaving his, and your smile turning into a slight smirk. “Didn’t know mine was going to come bearing shining glasses, instead.”

He’d laughed, that laugh just minutes ago you would’ve burned this bar down to hear, and my god, did you adore it. You adored it more than you should, given that you still didn’t know this mystery man’s name.

“No woman deserves to be treated like that, ma’am,” he tried to dismiss you, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose as your eyes trailed over those hands once again, now that they were so close. You could see the redness in his cheeks from this close now, too. “T-The way he was acting, my mom would’ve torn me a new one if I didn’t step in.”

“And is that the only reason?” you quipped back immediately, placing your beer down on the counter just so you could really look at him, study him. “That you stepped in?”

You could see the way he hesitated for a moment, but not as if he didn’t want to answer you. No, you could see that flush deepening in his skin: you were flirting with him, and he knew it, he just didn’t know how to handle it.

“N-No, no, that’s not the only reason,” there was a shy smile on his face as he huffed out a sheepish laugh, looking down at his lap for a moment, before looking back to you. “I should actually thank him, his incompetence gave me the balls to come over here and talk to you.”

He’d made you laugh, a boisterous one that caught the attention of a few lingering around the area of the bartop you were sat at, and you knew already that you were screwed when it came to this man. You’d offered your name immediately after that, a hand out to shake, and he took it in his own as he gave his name: Bob Floyd.

You tried desperately not to think about the way his hand had felt against yours, or the way it had absolutely engulfed your hand due to its sheer size alone. You forced your gaze to the badges that adorned the left side of his khaki uniform, glancing back up at him with a grin as you pulled your hand away.

“So, a Lieutenant?” you commented, gesturing toward the two silver bars on the collar of his uniform, before pointing with your beer bottle to the golden wings centered above his heart. “Flight officer badge. You’re a Weapons Systems Officer?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he gave you another kind grin as Penny swung by quickly, shooting a wink in both of your directions as you slid you both another beer each, muttering something about it being on the house. Bob took his with a sheepish smile, thanking Penny quietly before his attention refocused on you. “Top Gun graduate.”

“Ah, that and the rank explain why Caveman was so scared shitless to see you and your friends,” he’d laughed again at that comment as you finished off the last of your beer, a sly smirk appearing as it was hard to miss the way that Bob’s eyes flickered down to your neck as you tilted you head back to finish off the bottle. “Typically, you’re only recalled here for special detachments and sent home to your squadrons, unless you’re here to train newbies like our friend in the sand outside.”

“We were brought in for a mission months ago,” Bob’s attention was turned away as Lt. Seresin and Lt. Bradshaw reentered the bar. They both gave you polite waves that you happily returned for what they’d done for you, before making the most obvious of kissy faces toward Bob that had him shaking his head in embarrassment. You tried to hold in your laughter for his own sake. “They thought we had good team dynamics, so they formed a special squadron to keep us in town for a while. VFA-73 Dagger Squad, at your service.”

“Well, cheers to you all and a sincere thanks for your service,” he happily clinked the top of his bottle against your own. “Must be one special group to get a new squadron formed, no less made up of the best of the best.”

“Oh, they’re special, alright,”

You’d quickly come to learn in the next few minutes that Bob Floyd might’ve been the quieter one of his friends, but he was just as charming as the rest seemed to be. Honestly, you weren’t sure he understood just how charming he really was. He’d pointed across the bar toward his friends, naming off their names and the callsigns that you were sure to remember more easily. With each name, he seemed to easily have a story or a quick-witted quip about each one (including the embarrassing story of his Bob ended up his callsign and how Hangman had turned it into baby-on-board) that had you progressively laughing harder, leaning further toward him. You were seated facing one another, bodies angled directly at the other, and his knee was just barely brushing up against yours now with each laugh shared.

“Hangman seems like a piece of work, but I bet he’s got a soft side buried somewhere down in there,” you’d shot back, turning Bob’s attention back to you as you leaned closer to him with a grin, launching into a story that Bob seemed gripped to, an easy smile on his own face. “My dad’s the same way, took my Uncle Solomon–not my real Uncle, but kind of chosen Uncle–to break him down a little bit, get him to loosen up more.”

“So, your father was in the Navy?”

“Still is, reason that I’m in town right now,” 

With Bob this close, you were losing focus fast. The way he hung onto every word that you said, seemed to genuinely care about what you had to say, had a flutter flying through your chest that you hadn’t felt since your first boyfriend back in high school. Sure, you’d had your fair share of relationships in adulthood, but nothing that clicked, no one that made your heart soar or made you want to ‘pop your foot’ as Princess Mia always said in your favorite childhood movie. You were starting to understand her logic, though, because every second around this charming knight in shining glasses had you ready to throw caution to the wind.

So, with a little boost of confidence fueled by the third beer in your hand and the adorable sight of a blush on the Naval aviator’s face, you moved even closer. Your leg slotted itself between his, pressed between his thighs as your foot rested against the bottom rungs of his chair. You could see him freeze for just a second as his eyes followed you, not apprehensive, but just unsure, like he’d never been here before. With your beer pushed off to the side, not seeing a need for any more liquid courage, your elbow came to rest on the bartop and your head on top of your hand, allowing you to look up at the handsome man before you and watch as he visibly swallowed the lump in his throat.

God, that really had no right to be as hot as it was.

“S-So, he’s stationed here on North Island?”

“Maybe,” you shot back with a smirk, one that brought an easy smile back to his lips as he could surely hear the teasing tone laced through your words as you kept your answer vague. “I’d prefer not to talk about my dad, though, when I could be hearing more about the incredibly handsome WSO who saved this poor damsel in distress.”

Another easy laugh was shared between you both before the floodgates seemed to open up.

Bob had no issue telling you all about his childhood. He’d grown up in Montana, on a ranch somewhere on the outskirts of Bozeman, which prompted a lengthy debate on whether or not he qualified as a cowboy or not (you thought he did, and when he confessed to owning a few cowboy hats, you declared yourself the winner of the debate). His mother and father, Bonnie and Owen Floyd, had three daughters before finally having Bob, their youngest: Laura, and the twins Sophia and Sierra. He’d recounted a story from back in high school when they’d taken a trip to Yellowstone National Park for Bob’s birthday, at his request, where his oldest sister had gotten yelled at by a park ranger for stepping way too close to one of the hot springs.

“That’s, like, impossible to do!” you’d almost shouted through the bar incredulously as Bob laughed at your reaction. “All you have to do is stay on the guided paths, right?”

“That’s what I said!” Bob managed to explain through his own laughter. “Laura swore she saw a bald eagle and was just trying to get a closer look. She then, unbelievably, yelled back at the ranger about how one day she was going to be a conservationist and work there.”

“In the nicest way…she sounds like a piece of work sometimes,”

“No offense taken, the whole family agrees. I like to say she took all the extrovertedness in the family so that there was none left for me,”

Your lips quirked into another bright smile at that, tone slightly teasing once more, but in a soft way.

“I don’t know, you don’t seem so introverted around me,”

Bob paused at that, that adorable blush still ever present in his skin, as his lips quirked up just slightly higher than they were before.

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t,” he’d shyly managed to say, eyes never straying from yours. “You make it easy.”

With more shared laughter, two hearts fluttering just from conversation alone, Bob even told you the story of how he’d decided to join the Navy. He’d been with his father one day, the family truck getting worked on at the local shop, and his dad had slid him some money to grab them both some snacks from the pharmacy a few doors down. Bob had only been around 10 at the time. In between those two buildings, though, had been a Navy recruitment center where he’d overheard the conversation inside with some high school students, and the rest was history. He suddenly had every book known to man about the Navy, was watching every movie that even mentioned the Navy in passing, and had sheepishly admitted to even starting a collection of model planes he’d built, dreaming one day of flying them.

God, if that wasn’t somehow the cutest story in the world, but also the hottest moment of vulnerability you’d seen from a man your age in years, you were practically ready to swoon and drop to the floor right there in the middle of the bar. You had a feeling that Penny wouldn’t take kindly to that, even if she seemed to like you and Bob’s friend group.

In turn, you’d told Bob everything about yourself, too. Growing up in a town in New York that felt more like it was part of Canada than New York, given your proximity to the border. You were an only child, your father (who had you skirting around any details that Bob asked about him) was too focused on his career to think about having another kid. But he always swore that you were enough for him. His workaholic nature and deep love for the Navy and moving up the ranks strained the relationship he had with your mother until they divorced. How you never got to see him often, but he always managed to call at least once a week to talk to his ‘perfect girl.’

With the depressing comparison of your childhoods and family dynamics, you’d told him the happy stories and memories, too. Ones that you didn’t normally divulge to a man you had just met. You’d been on a softball team all through high school with your best friends, won multiple championships, and even gotten a scholarship to Boston University because of it. There were multiple stories about how your parents always bribed you with Cold Stone Creamery, and how it was still your favorite ice cream place today. That time your friends had gotten caught sneaking alcohol into the punch bowls at prom (that story had Bob laughing, as he recounted a similar one that Hangman had told them from his high school days). And, of course, the thrilling stories of your very mundane marketing job back in your hometown, the one you never managed to escape.

“You at least like your job, though, right?” Bob had asked, and with the way you were now sitting together, it would probably be more comfortable and practical to just climb into his lap and use him as a chair. Legs still wound around one another, both leaning against the bar with beers long forgotten, faces entirely too close together as you sat in your own bubble together. The sun had long since gone down, as it had still been in the beginning stages of setting when you’d first entered the bar. 

One hour, two? You had no clue how long you’d been talking to Bob Floyd, but every part of you wanted to talk to him for the rest of the night and beyond. It was easy, it was comfortable, and you felt more respected in the entirety of this conversation than you did on any Tinder date you’d been on in years. Safe. That’s what you felt. You felt safe around Bob Floyd, a feeling that was a hot commodity in today's dating climate.

“I do. I went to school for it, so I hope I like it,” your eyes drifted to the bartop, finger absentmindedly tracing the water ring left around your discarded beer bottle. “Pays well, very well. Just want to do it…somewhere other than my hometown, is all. Love the company I work for, just want a change. If an opportunity presented itself, I’d leave Watertown immediately.”

“And besides your mom, you wouldn’t uh…you wouldn’t be leaving anyone behind, would you? No like a, uh, a boyfriend…or anything?”

You’d glanced back up at him now, at the way he bit into his bottom lip with both nerves and hope shining in his eyes as he waited with baited breath for your answer. And in turn, you smiled, leaning just the slightest bit closer to him with amusement laced in your words.

“Lieutenant Floyd, if you haven’t noticed, I’ve been flirting with you all night. I wouldn’t do that if there was someone waiting for me,”

He laughed then, and you could almost physically see the tension and nerves leave his body.

“Good, because uh, I-I don’t either. Have anyone, I mean,” your head tilted as Bob groaned slightly, running a hand down his face and adjusting his glasses with a deep chuckle. “I’m sorry, I’m really not good at this.”

“At flirting?”

“I never really get the chance to, no one ever really notices me,” he’d shrugged it off like it was nothing, but you’d felt a small pang in your chest at that comment. “Jake, Bradley, Javy…it’s always them, and it doesn’t normally bother me. But I…I saw you earlier, and you looked at me like you saw me. Like you really saw me. You never looked at them, you kept looking at me. And…I’ve never been the one looked at like that, not when I’m with them. I’m not the one noticed.”

You shuffled, sitting up slightly now so that you weren’t leaning against the bar, as you placed your hand on top of his, where it lay in his lap. Bob simply watched you, a tiny smile never leaving his face, as you reciprocated the look and gave his hand a squeeze.

“I’m not one to flirt with a random guy at a bar, or sit and divulge details of my life story to him for hours on end. Which means you, Bob Floyd, are special. And honestly? I’m glad the other ladies don’t notice you, because I sure did. And that just leaves more for me.”

There was silence for a beat before his hand under your own moved back just slightly, his fingers now splayed out over your own, wrapping around them slightly with a tiny squeeze. And somewhere in that small movement, in the looks exchanged in the never-ending eye contact you seemed to hold with one another, something changed. Those heated looks from earlier held a new weight with the words spoken out loud, the tension on the rope connecting the two of you tighter than it had been from the moment you’d first saw Bob Floyd from across the bar, and it felt like all it was going to take to snap that tension was to lean in-

“Baby-on-board! You done hogging your girl over there so we can meet her?”

And…moment ruined. Bob immediately shut his eyes, groaning with a mumble under his breath about how he was ‘going to kill Hangman’ while his friends all laughed from across the bar. You’d simply laughed, leaning your head down until your forehead rested against Bob’s shoulder, his breath and words ghosting over the side of your face as he finally spoke.

“Sorry about them. The one time I have a girl interested in me, they decide to be pricks about it,”

“Maybe they’re just trying to summon you back over, I have held you hostage long enough,” you commented when you finally lifted your head, glancing down at the watch on his arm to see that you had, in fact, held this man hostage at the bar for almost two hours, even though it had felt like minutes.

“Trust me, this was no hostage situation. I’d rather be over here with you,” Bob was quick to interject, his smile seeming to stretch wider as you were sure he could see the flush crawling up your own neck. Untangling your legs, Bob rose to his feet beside the chair as a pang of disappointment hit you square in the chest. That was, until he held his hand out to you with a sheepish grin. “Care to join me?”

You were pretty sure you would’ve followed Bob Floyd anywhere at this point. Was it insane to like a guy this much after barely knowing him for a night? Probably, but you didn’t feel like you’d just met him. No, Bob Floyd felt like meeting an old friend again, and god did you love the feeling. That’s why you didn’t hesitate to put your hand in his.

“Lead the way, Lieutenant,”

There was another round of cheers the second you and Bob were finally in their vicinity, another comment from Hangman about ‘Bobby finally bagging a woman’ that ended with a harsh shoulder slap from Phoenix. You’d only laughed as Bob shook his head at their antics and gratefully accepted the barstool he’d held out for you. Your eyes watched him, like they had been the entire night, as he turned down the invitation to the pool game at hand, taking a seat on the stool directly next to you.

What he probably hadn’t expected was for your foot to hook around the leg of his stool, dragging it directly to your side until every part of you that could be pressed up against the handsome WSO was. When he saw the easy smile on your face and the tiny wink you gave him, you could see any last bit of tension leave his body as he easily leaned into you as well.

They’d all quickly introduced themselves, though Bob had already given you the rundown before. You greeted them politely with a smile, finally giving them your own name so Bradley didn’t have to call you ‘mystery bar girl’ anymore.

“Well, well, well baby-on-board,” it was Hangman once again, shaking his head as he took a shot on one of his last solids left in play, sinking it easily. “Looks like you snagged a confident one. Too bad, bet I could’ve swept her off her feet if given the chance.”

Flirty. Bob certainly didn’t exaggerate just how flirtatious Jake Seresin seemed to be, not that you were interested at all in any comments from him. The comments didn’t catch you off guard, but Bob’s actions did.

His hand was immediately on your thigh, closer down toward your knee, but resting there nonetheless. Just the slightest bit of pressure, enough to feel as if it had been meant in a comforting gesture, but it inherently held something a little more to it. Not quite possessiveness, but something akin to staking a claim, to say you were with him and him only. While Caveman’s hand on any part of you had you wanting to run for the hills, Bob’s firm grip had you leaning into his side more, chasing after the warmth and security he provided. It still sent a flash of heat through every inch of your body, especially when you glanced down to see just how big his hand was when it was resting on such a small part of you. You wished you’d opted for the jean shorts you had picked out earlier now just to feel his hand engulf your bare skin instead.

“Knock it off, Bagman. Clearly, she’s more interested in the quiet types,” the wink Natasha sent your way made you laugh, a similar chuckle coming from Bob at his front-seater’s comments, as she whacked Hangman over the shoulder. While lining up to take her own shot in the game, you saw her catch the way Bob’s hand rested on your leg, and a flash of surprise followed by pride seemed to cross her features. “So, never seen you around before. What brings you to Fightertown?”

“Visiting my dad for a few weeks, he’s stationed here on North Island. But…I’m also here for work,” you could see Bob’s head turn to look at you curiously from the corner of your eye, but you kept your gaze on Natasha. “The marketing firm I work for has a branch out here in San Diego, over in Chula Vista. They know I’ve been looking to move, so they thought I should come check out their set-up out here to see if I liked it enough to take their offer.”

There was a squeeze to your thigh as you turned your attention back to Bob, who was looking at you quizically.

“You didn’t mention that before,”

“Wasn’t sure I was going to take their offer earlier,” you shrugged innocently. “San Diego is hot, I’m not built for this weather.”

“But you…think you might take it now?”

You bit into your bottom lip, leaning just a fraction closer to Bob as you tried to hold back your grin as you replied.

“Well…maybe I found another enticing reason to hang around San Diego for a while,”

There was a low murmur of laughter throughout the group at your words, that gorgeous redness settling back into Bob’s cheeks, and you could hear Fanboy mumble out just loud enough a ‘damn, she’s good at this’ comment.

The group asked their questions, and you answered happily. Where you were from, what all your job entailed, even the stupid little questions like who your celebrity crush was or if you ever thought about joining the Navy like your father.

All the while, Bob never strayed from your side. His thumb had been rubbing little circles into your jeans, just firm enough to feel it on your skin each time the digit moved back and forth, and god, you were really cursing yourself for not wearing those shorts right now. At some point, during a pool rematch between Rooster and Coyote, your head had found it’s way to rest against Bob’s shoulder, and after a brief moment there was the unmistakeable feel of lips pressed to the crown of your head that had a shiver running down your spine and another flash of heat rushing through you, this time heading all south.

Charming, sexy in a quiet way that made him seem so non-threatening, and an absolutely sweetheart and a gentleman…it hadn’t even been a day, but you knew Bob Floyd had already ruined your standards for men. He was the standard.

“Sorry, my favorite fighter pilots,” the attention of everyone crowded by the pool tables turned to Penny, hand on her hip, but an easy smile on her face as she glanced around, eyes lingering on you and the WSO who were still wrapped around one another. “Last call time, going to have to kick you all out now.”

Last call? With a quick glance around the bar, you noticed that there was, in fact, barely any patrons still around. The ones still left behind were already moving toward the door. And with a glance down at Bob’s watch, the time was confirmed: 2 a.m.

“Damn, we almost never stay here until last call,” Rooster laughed, packing up everything on the pool table so that Penny didn’t have to deal with it, Fanboy and Paybackl disappearing after offering to help Penny clean up bottles still littered around the bar.

“Time does fly when you’re having fun,” Natasha commented, bumping shoulders with him before she set her sights on you. “What about you, our honorary Dagger? Need a ride back to wherever you’re staying?”

“Nah, I’m staying at Hotel del Coronado right down the beach. Perks of the job. I just walked along the beach to get here earlier,” your gaze then flickered over to Bob, his thumb still rubbing circles into your leg where he’d never let go throughout the night. “Though it’s pretty late, I’d love if there was some knight in shining glasses still hanging around that wouldn’t mind walking me back.”

There wasn’t a second of hesitation from Bob before he was on his feet, the heat of his hand on your leg disappearing, and then reappearing moments later when his hand wrapped around your own, fingers sliding into place between yours.

“I’ve got tomorrow off, I’ll see you guys on base Sunday,” Bob nodded toward his friends, tugging you even closer to his side. “Tell Penny I’ll come grab my truck later.”

“More like in the morning,” Hangman commented, trying to conceal it surrounded by fake coughs. The group had laughed, the comment spurring another bloom of red across Bob’s cheeks and your own, before he’d tugged you out the back door of the Hard Deck and into the sand.

The beach in these early hours of the morning was quiet, beautiful in a way that only these lonely hours of the night could make it. No distant sound of traffic, no families or rowdy groups of teenagers running up and down the sand, just the sand, the waves, and the moon. It cast streaks of light over the water, its reflection rippling in the waves as they crashed to shore, setting the scene of a picturesque night along the stretch of sand that lasts miles.

Bob had held you up as you removed your sandals, carrying them in one hand in order to appreciate the cool sand beneath your feet. Your other hand still stayed wrapped up in Bob’s, the warmth of his skin a delicious contrast to the cool breeze that came with the cool nighttime California air. Conversation hadn’t stopped, not once, since you’d both started talking earlier on in the night, but this time it was Bob pointing up at the sky as you lazily moved down the beach at the slowest pace you could, naming constellations visible.

“That one right over there,” you followed his gaze as he pointed just slightly West in the sky. “That one is Hercules.”

“Ah, absolutely. I can totally see it,” you nodded your head repeatedly, and it was clear that Bob was already starting to laugh at your response. “The square those stars form, and the little stick arms and legs, definitely gives off a mythological Greek hero to me.”

“Well, actually,” Bob managed to speak through his laughter. “It’s named for his Roman counterpart. Heracles was his Greek counterpart, so they’re essentially the same thing.”

After a moment, you dropped Bob’s hand, turning and angling your body so that you were facing him head-on, walking backward in the sand. Even in the dark of the night, you could tell there was a tiny blush creeping along his cheeks as you tilted your head toward him.

“Bob Floyd, don’t tell me you’re also a secret space nerd!”

His laugh echoed down the beach as he hung his head for a moment, adjusting his glasses when he finally looked back up to you with a grin.

“Guilty, hard not to be with the kind of night skies I grew up seeing in Montana. I-I haven’t…completely ruined my chances now that I’ve nerded out…have I?”

“On the contrary. I have a thing for smart men,” with another wink, you’d spun on your heel in the sand, continuing your walk toward the hotel. “Especially this smart, handsome WSO named Bob Floyd that I met tonight.”

You’d barely gotten a few steps away before there was a sudden tug on your hand, your body spinning back around in the sand until your chest was pressed directly to Bob’s. And before you could utter a single word, his lips were, finally, on yours.

Without a second of hesitation, you fell into him, swept away by the way his fingers traced the line of your jaw, sliding their way to the back of your neck as he held you in place against him. His lips moved against your own with a sense of gentleness that disappeared once it was clear you were reciprocating with vigor, his mouth swallowing yours with the hunger of a starved man.

Almost involuntarily, a delicious little sound you swore you’d never made before tumbled from your lips, swallowed whole by the soft, firm moves of Bob’s lips against your own. A spark grew in the pit of your stomach the second the hand on your waist gripped you just the slightest bit tighter, a spark that was soon a raging inferno that you had no thoughts about taming. 

It takes no effort to give in to Bob Floyd, not when he holds you like this. Not when he’s kissing you on a moonlit beach as if you’d personally hung the moon in the sky just for him.

There is no question in this kiss, no lingering doubts about whatever had sparked between you both since the moment you’d made eye contact hours ago. When your hands find their way to the nape of his neck, fingers sliding through and tugging lightly on the sandy blonde hair you couldn’t even see in the dark, and he elicits a groan that has your knees threatening to give out in the sand, there’s no question: there’s a claim. If his hand on your thigh was the precursor, the writing of a contract to claim you as his in a way you didn’t even realize you already were, this kiss was the signature. Signed and dated, written in stone. You weren’t sure there was another man in the world who could kiss you the way Bob Floyd was kissing you, who could ignite a fire that bright in the depths of your soul.

With reluctance, as if it takes the gods themselves to pull either of you away, you part for the simple need to breathe. And, god, does Bob Floyd look wrecked. Panting, lips red and swollen, the skin of his neck and cheeks flushed red, and an unmistakable bit of fog to his glasses. You laughed then, breathy from your own lack of oxygen, reaching up with the sleeve of your shirt to wipe at the fog, knowing that, given how you felt right now, you surely didn’t look any better than he did.

“Well…hi,” you managed to huff out, chest still struggling to get air back into your lungs.

“Hi,” his voice came out almost like a whisper at first, full of wonder, his hand still cradling your head. His thumb was, once again, drawing little circles into the skin right around your ear, his smile wider than you’d seen all night. “I…I’m sorry-”

“Do not apologize for that,” you’d interjected immediately as Bob huffed out a laugh. “Please, never apologize for that.”

“Good, because I was lying. I-I’m really not sorry,” the hand against your cheek left you, taking its warmth with it, before both of Bob’s hands settled on your waist. You tightened your arms around his shoulders in response, sandals having been long discarded in the sand somewhere amid the kiss. “I’ve wanted to do that for hours. I…I like you. Like, a lot. More than I think I should for the few short hours I’ve known you.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re on the same page. I don’t divulge my entire life story to just any Naval aviator in a bar,” another breathy laugh fell from Bob’s lips as you leaned forward, the tip of your nose brushing against his. “No, I only tell all those stories to this one guy that I happen to really like. Like, a lot.”

And when Bob Floyd kissed you again, it was blissful. Gentler, still passionate, so full of an emotion that you wouldn’t ever dare to call love, not this soon. It was more like affection, adoration, a warmth that had you melting into his arms without a care in the world. You’d do anything, as long as it meant you got to keep kissing this man.

Maybe Princess Mia had been onto something with that ‘foot pop’ of a kiss idea, because this sure felt like that moment.

“God, you’re going to be the death of me,” Bob groaned out against your lips, hands squeezing at your hips again as you laughed, playfully leaning back to swat at his chest as he smiled down at you, illuminated by the moonlight. 

“Hey, you’re the one who keeps kissing me. I think any court of law would find you at fault for that. Also,” you quickly gestured around at your surroundings with a tilt of your head. “Hell of a setting for a first kiss. A moonlit beach in the dead of night, did you walk straight out of a rom-com, Bob Floyd?”

“In all honesty, I was going to wait until I got you back to your hotel room to kiss you and hopefully get your number,” he stated matter-of-factly. “But then I looked at you and…and you were just too beautiful not to. And I was going to kick myself in a few hours if I didn’t kiss you.”

If you were ever asked to pinpoint something you adored about Bob Floyd, his ability to make you laugh with the simplest of things would probably be your favorite. He barely even had to try, and he had you laughing like a little schoolgirl.

The entire walk back to the hotel down the beach felt like a dream sequence, like something straight out of a movie that you never believed actually happened to people in real life. Bob’s hand never strayed from yours, swinging between you both as you kicked at the sand. Every few steps, he’d push you away from him slightly, just to be able to pull you back into his side and make you laugh again.

And somehow, in the midst of the walk, you’d ended up engaged in the most spontaneous round of ‘Never Have I Ever’ questions you’d ever been part of. You and Bob had both been caught speeding during college, but Bob had managed to awkwardly sweet-talk his way out of a ticket with the female officer. You’d been skinny dipping twice before, both on bachelorette trips for two of your college friends, and you didn’t miss the way Bob had to swallow the lump in his throat at that confession (no doubt imagining it). He, in turn, had ended up having to confess the embarrassing story that was him having a crush on his high school English teacher.

“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to wrap my head around that,” you’d managed to say through your laughter that you couldn’t contain as you both approached the main doors of the hotel building. “She was at least young, right?”

“Yes, she was in her thirties,” Bob shook his head, obviously amused by how hilarious you found the story. Like the gentleman he was, he’d opened the door for you, a hand resting on the small of your back as he led you into the building. “Girls didn’t look at me in high school, okay. She always offered that I could eat lunch with her since she had a free period, and the entire school had agreed that she was objectively pretty. You can’t blame me!”

“Okay, fine, but you do have to admit it’s a little funny,” you’d offhandedly waved to the concierge, the same one who had checked you in that morning, now working the graveyard shift, before leading Bob over to the elevators. You rested against the wall, awaiting your ride to arrive, while Bob stood just barely a foot in front of you. “As for the girls: their loss. If I’d have gone to high school with you, trust me, I would’ve looked at you.”

The doors for the elevator slid open with a ‘ding’ as you quickly moved inside, back turned to Bob.

“And trust me, if I’d have known you back then, we’d be married by now,”

The second the elevator doors shut, you paused, finger hovering over the button for your floor. Turning on your heel back to Bob, head cocked to the side in amusement, you could see the realization flicker over his face as it dawned on him what exactly he’d just said.

“Oh, would we now? You saying we’d be high school sweethearts?” Bob sheepishly laughed, fixing his glasses as he looked anywhere but you. “That kind of sounded like a line straight out of Hangman’s playbook, and I barely know the guy.”

“Yeah…y-yeah, it really did, didn’t it? Might have to blame the alcohol, I-I don’t typically drink much on our nights out,”

You hummed, taking a step toward him with a growing smile as his stuttering came back for just a second, something you realized only ever made an appearance when he was nervous. His eyes were locked on you as you leaned up, nose bumping his.

“Don’t worry, I found it cute coming from you,” you leaned back to hit the button for the third floor, and the second you did, Bob’s hand was settled on your hip, pulling you back to him. Teeth gnawing into your bottom lip, you contemplated the words floating around your head for a moment, afraid that whatever was happening here was fragile and your words could break it. “When we get up there…do you want to come in?”

You had read it before, about the way a man’s eyes darkened with ‘lust’ or in moments such as this, but you’d never witnessed it. Not until now, and once again, Bob Floyd had you weak in the knees.

“I’d love to,”

“Good,” you nodded. “Just know…I don’t do hook-ups. I don’t do flings.”

“Good,” he responded with his own nod. “Because neither do I.”

“Good,”

The door of your hotel room had barely been closed before Bob was on you.

His hands on your hips guided you, pressing you up against the closed bathroom door just to the right of the room’s main door, and his lips descended upon yours as if he were attacking his target. Vigorous, relentless, he kissed you in a way you’d never been kissed before, not even like he did on the beach, and you knew you didn’t stand a chance. A wanton moan slipped out of you, parting your lips just enough for Bob’s tongue to sneak through, to savor the taste of you. You savored the taste of him, too: the lingering taste of the beer he’d been sipping all night, and the remnants of your own vanilla chapstick still smeared across his lips.

You moved in tandem, like your bodies were one with each other. It didn’t take long before your shirt was off, his lips hot, slicked with spit, dragging themselves over every inch of skin he could get his lips on. Every drag of his lips, every press of a kiss against your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts had your mind going blank, your fingers desperately fumbling with the buttons of his khaki uniform to no avail.

If you just asked, you’d let him have anything he wanted in this moment. You’d let him take you against this door, the wall next to it, the floor, the bed, hell, you’d let him lean you over the balcony railing where anyone might be able to see you both. Nothing else mattered besides Bob Floyd, as long as he continued to touch you, adore you, worship you the way he was.

In the moments it took Bob to maneuver you from the wall to the bed, you’d finally come back to yourself, able to delicately unbutton his uniform and not ruin it, before tugging it from its place tucked into his pants and tossing it across the room. The white shirt he had on beneath it was gone in seconds, too, and god, you wanted to admire him like a painting on the walls of a museum, like he was the Mona Lisa himself.

Like they say, it’s always the quiet ones. You shouldn’t have been surprised; he was in the Navy, after all. But you couldn’t deny the heat that pooled between your thighs from just a single look.

With a tiny yelp from your lips, your back hit the bed, and Bob was on top of you in seconds, drawing yet another moan from your lips. At this rate, there’d surely be a noise complaint in minutes. His leg wedged itself between your thighs, delivering just enough friction to have you squirming, while his lips locked back into your neck. From your jawline, all the way to your collarbone, Bob nipped at every inch of skin he could, blowing a short puff of air across over tender spot before leaving a searing kiss to it that felt like you were being branded. All the while, your hands roamed up and down every expanse of skin you could touch, His forearms to his biceps and every vein that ran along them, popping out from under his skin. The lean body that hovered over you now, nails ghosting along the lines across his stomach toward his chest that had a low grumble emitting from him. And in a moment of boldness, invigorated by the tension that had snapped between you both, your hand traveled lower, just barely grazing over the outline straining against his khaki pants, finally feeling for yourself just how big he truly was. And the groan that left him that time, wrecked and on the verge of falling apart, had a whole new flood of heat rushing through you.

In a show of his strength, Bob rolled you both again with just one arm. Suddenly, there you sat, straddling him as he lay below you, half naked, eyes blown wide behind those glasses, looking absolutely desecrated beneath you. The only sound that flickered through the room was the heavy pants from each of you, once again catching your breath and calming the firestorm of emotions in you both.

“So,” Bob had breathed out once he’d finally caught enough of his breath. “Y-You’re totally taking that transfer to San Diego, right?”

You’d let out a breathy laugh, swiping your hand down your face as you sent him a small smirk.

“In all honesty…I already accepted it. That was half the reason for this trip: to see my new office and meet my new coworkers. Meeting you, though…well, that’s just like the cherry on top,”

His grin was infectious, but your mind was elsewhere in the moment as you took your chance, simply grinding yourself down on the man below you with a smirk of amusement still on your lips. His smile was gone instantly, lips straining to hold in a moan as his hands gripped your hips tightly, forcing you to freeze in place so you couldn’t make that same move again.

“I-If you do that again, I’m not going to be able to stop myself,”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Yes, because I want to do this properly. I want to do this in order,” he huffed out a laugh. “Tomorrow, my day off. 7 p.m. I’ll pick you up. Il Fornaio, an Italian restaurant just on the other side of the island, right on the beach, with beautiful views of the water. We’ll eat, we’ll drink, and for dessert…a Cold Stone Creamery, barely a minute away. And if I can muster up the confidence to do it, I’ll make you mine before you’ve even taken a single scoop of your ice cream, because I don’t need a second date to know I want this. And then I’ll bring you back here, and then I’ll fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked, to be worshiped. God…I already don’t think there’s a single thing I wouldn’t do if you just asked me to.”

If you opened a dictionary, Bob Floyd would be painted under the word ‘perfection,’ and there was no doubt in your mind about it. Hell, he’d remembered the stupid story about your favorite ice cream shop you’d told him hours ago. You were about ready to ravish him on the spot.

“Sounds like you’ve had this planned out for hours now,” your voice had dropped into a whisper, laced with just pure awe for the man below you.

“Since the moment we first locked eyes across the bar. Had to add the ice cream bit in, later,”

And you’d laughed, something you had done all night with him. For a moment, you paused, smile stretching nervously, as something you’d been meaning to say all night, but had been stuck in your throat, was itching to finally be said. It terrified you, but you had to say it. Bob Floyd was an angel; he deserved to know what he was getting into.

“Well, that’s a yes to dinner, and everything that comes after. I’ll just have to make sure to tell my father I can’t have dinner with him after I visit the base tomorrow afternoon. I hope he doesn’t get too upset, you know how the, uh…how the Vice Admiral can be,”

It was like you’d just dropped a bomb, and you could see the aftermath in Bob’s eyes. The way he tilted his head from beneath you, before realization seemed to crawl into every feature of his face.

“The…the Vice Admiral. As in…Vice Admiral Beau Simpson, Cyclone…” it wasn’t a question, it was a statement, and all you could do was nervously nod your head as Bob let out yet another breathy laugh. “Your Uncle Solomon…Rear Admiral Solomon Bates, Warlock. Wow, how did I not figure that out?”

“Because I was really careful not to give it away,” you’d tried to laugh, nerves only calmed slightly by the little circles that Bob’s fingers were drawing into the skin of your waist where his hands still lay. “I’m sorry, I should’ve said something earlier. But you were so sweet, and not to mention attractive, and it was so easy to like you…I was scared if you knew, you wouldn’t think it was worth it.”

Bob’s eyebrows furrowed as he shifted, sitting up on the hotel room bed now with you still positioned in his lap. One arm fully locked around your waist, the other taking your chin between his fingers to keep your eyes locked on him as he spoke.

“Why would I think that?”

“I dated a Navy man in college; he was a few years older than I was. He was excited for his reassignment; he was going to be training under my dad. But then, I told him that it was my dad, and he freaked. Thought he’d be treated unfairly if his superior knew he was dating his daughter. I just…I just didn’t want you to think I wasn’t worth the hassle. I know how my dad can be.”

Bob stared at you for just a moment before he pulled you into another kiss. Softer than any previous kiss the entire night, but firm, as if he was trying to drill something into you. Whatever it was, it was working, as your chest fluttered and your hands wound their way back into his hair. And barely a beat later, he’d pulled back, forehead pressed to yours, hand on your chin, cupping your jawline to hold you there with him.

“If in the end, I get you…anything is worth the hassle,”

[weeeyotch]

eager to please pt. 2 ღ r.r.

robert reynolds x f!reader

pt.1

synopsis: after eating you out for the first time, bob wants to take it one step further.

warnings: smut (18+ MDNI), oral (fem receiving), dacryphilia, manhandling, dom/sub dynamics, use of toys (vibrator), nipple play, tit worship, switch dynamics

word count: 2.7k

a/n: i wasn't expecting anyone to want a second part, but here you go anyways besties

His question hangs heavy in the air: "Could you try sitting on my face?"

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you almost forget how to breathe for a second. The hand that had been lovingly stroking his hair freezes, fingers tangled in his messy curls.

You glance down. Bob is still lying with his arms wrapped tightly around you, his eyes wide and glassy as they silently plead with you. The devotion in his gaze—equal parts worship and desperation—makes your thighs clench.

"Baby," you murmur, "are you sure you're ready for that? I don't want you to overwhelm yourself."

He nods, fervent. "I'm ready," he whispers, voice rough with need. "Please."

The raw hunger in his tones sends shivers down your spine. How lucky you were to be loved so fiercely by someone who could burn down the world, yet chooses to worship you instead. Seeing him there, so pliant and needy, made your heart swell with pride.

His fingers trail down your tummy and ghost along your thigh, dragging through the slick sheen on your skin like he was painting with it. It's deliberate and teasing, and you know that he's trying to rile you up again.

And he's doing it so well.

The sight of him like this—his gaze so pure and tender while his hands move in a quiet, unmistakable filth—ignites a fire in you. It's not just desire that blooms in your chest; it's white-hot, blinding power that thrums through your veins, urging you to claim him as yours.

"You want that?" you murmur, fingers tightening just enough in his hair to coax the tiniest gasp out of him. "You want me to use you like that?"

Bob lets out another sound, a cross between a whimper and a plea. He nods vigorously as he presses his lips into a tight line.

"Say it then," you say. "Say what you want, pretty boy."

"I want you to use me like that," he whispers, reverence and want dripping from his words. "I want you to sit on my face. I wanna taste you. I wanna worship you. Please. Please—"

The desperation in his voice snaps something inside you. With a swift motion, you tighten your grip on him and force him to roll over. You straddle him as he hits the mattress with a small ungh. The way he lets you man-handle him, knowing that he has enough strength to do whatever he wants to you, makes heat shoot through your blood like lightning.

It is hot. Wild. Impossible to ignore.

There is something feral taking over you, something that is thrilled at how easily he gave in; how someone so powerful could melt into obedience at your slightest touch.

"You like being tossed around like that?" you ask, low and commanding.

His chest heaves as he looks up at you, eyes glassy and pupils blown wide. "Yes," he breathes, "only by you."

That answer unlocks something darker in you. Something primal—a desire to ruin him, to make him beg and scream without restraint.

You drag a finger down the side of his face to his neck, letting your nail dig in just enough to make him flinch. He twitches beneath you, his breath hitching. Your hand slides back up, and he braces, like he's expecting you to mark him. Instead, you grip his jaw and crash your lips against his.

It's messy and sticky, and tasting yourself on his mouth only stokes the fire in your belly even more.

One of his hands slides up your body to gently lift up your shirt, bunching it at your collarbone. His large, calloused palms find your breasts, cupping them. His thumbs brush over your nipples, slow and deliberate as he coaxes them to harden under his touch. You arch into his hands, craving more.

He rolls one nipple between his thumb and forefinger, a teasing pinch that draws a sharp moan from your lips. His other hand mirrors the motion.

You keen and arch your back further, breaking the kiss. A thin line of saliva stretches between you before snapping and landing on the corner of his mouth.

Bob wastes no time as your breasts are pushed into his face. He wraps his lips greedily around your nipple, sucking with reverence. His tongue kitten-licks your sensitive peak, mimicking the way he teased your clit earlier while his other hand kneads the other breast.

The sensation makes you collapse forward as your body trembles with need.

You couldn't wait anymore.

"I'll give you what you want, baby," you pant. "You're such a good boy. You deserve it."

He sighs contentedly at the pet name, letting his head relax back into the pillows as he drinks in your naked form. A small smile curves his lips, but is quickly replaced by something ravenous as you start to climb up his body.

He licks his lips like you are the first taste of salvation he has had in weeks.

"Tap my thigh if it's too much," you tell him.

Bob nods, eyes locked onto your pussy, pupils dark with desire. Slowly, you lower yourself, inch by inch; you were partly teasing him, and partly giving him a chance to back out.

But mostly to tease him.

The first brush of his lips against you pulls a small moan from your throat.

He groans in response, the sound vibrating deliciously against your core. Bob dives in with the same sloppy enthusiasm from before. Although now, you sense that there's a hunger to it—a need that feels borderline possessive.

His tongue moves in one long, slow stroke, taking forever to climb up your pussy and find your clit with precision. He starts to circle the swollen nub.

"Fuck, Bob," you gasp, gripping the headboard for balance.

Your hips jerk forward. He decides to repeat the movement, over and over, until each jerking of your hips effectively turns into you riding him. His quickening breath, warm against your core, and the scrape of his stubble, urge you on.

Eventually, he stops moving his head, sticking his tongue out so that you can take full control of the pleasure.

Bob's surrender sends power surging through your veins. The sight of him like this—eyes half-lidded, face glistening with your wetness—makes you grind faster against his pliant tongue. Each roll of your hips elicits a groan from deep within his chest, the vibrations shooting sparks of pleasure through your core.

"Good boy," you pant while gripping the headboard tighter. "So good for me, letting me use you like this. My perfect boy."

His eyes flutter close as he whines pathetically, and you can feel his hands tighten on your thighs. Not to guide you, but to anchor himself. You lean back slightly to take in the sight of him: trembling, messy curls sticking to his slick forehead, and completely at your mercy.

Then—

Three taps on your thigh.

Your heart leaps in your chest. The lust was replaced with panic in the blink of an eye.

I pushed him too far, you think. I should've waited. Should've told him no.

"What's wrong? Did I hurt you? Was it too much? Are you oka—" you ramble, lifting off him.

Bob cuts you off with a small, sheepish smile and runs his hands soothingly up and down your hips. "I'm okay, I'm okay. I just wanted to ask if . . ."

He trails off, clearing his throat and darting his eyes away. A blush snakes its way up his round cheeks.

You lean down to brush the damp curls away from his forehead. "Ask what, baby? I need words."

With a nervous swallow, he whispers: "Can you use the vibrator on yourself? While I eat you out?"

Relief washes over you like a wave. You let out a grateful breath, heavy and trembling. A smile tugs at your lips as you stroke his hair, leaning down to press a lingering kiss against his temple. He nuzzles into your touch, sighing contentedly.

How could you ever say no to him?

"Anything you want, sweetheart."

You settle back over his face as his hands gently guide you into place. While you reach for your nightstand to find the vibrator, he busies himself by pressing delicate kisses against your swollen lips. Your fingers finally wrap around the toy that had been thrown underneath piles of clothes. Turning it on, a low hum fills the air, blending with the wet clicking sounds of Bob's mouth against you.

You press the toy lightly against your clit, just above where his tongue circles. The combined sensation rips a sharp gasp from you.

Your hips stutter and Bob moans, feeling you become wetter with every passing second. You rock against him, the steady hum of the vibrator amplifying every flick of his tongue, pushing you closer towards the edge.

But then you notice a subtle shift in his grip, in the way his hands tighten on your thighs.

His eyes, wet with tears and glassy with devotion, flicker with something bolder. Something commanding.

"Give it to me," he says, voice muffled against your core.

It's a demand—raw and unexpected. So unlike the man who, only a minute ago, was embarrassed about asking you to pleasure yourself with a vibrator while riding his face.

The sudden change sends a jolt of heat through you.

You raise an eyebrow, testing his dominance. "You think you can handle it, baby boy?"

He growls in response. "Now." The word is sharp, laced with a tone of authority that is so unlike his usual softness. It makes your breath catch.

One hand leaves your thigh and reaches up expectantly. You hand him the vibrator, intrigued by this new side of him.

Bob takes it with surprising confidence—no doubt after having watched you pleasure yourself with it dozens of times before—and adjusts the angle to press it firmly against your clit. You cry out at the painful precision, hips bucking.

His tongue dives back in. However, it's different than before. This time, he's lapping desperately at your entrance, pushing his tongue deep into your core. He slurps obscenely as he works at your gummy walls.

Then you realize: he's drinking you.

"Bob—fuck—I can't—" your voice breaks while he works you with ruthless efficiency.

He alternates the vibrator's pressure, pulling it back slightly to tease your clit then pressing it back with intensity. His tongue circles and flicks throughout your center, and the sensations are pushing you closer to oblivion.

He's determined to unravel you completely.

His free hand grips your thigh to hold you in place, a reminder of the strength he's choosing to restrain.

"Come for me," he growls, lips brushing against your dripping pussy. "I want it. Come for me."

It's the authority in his voice—thick and uncharacteristically possessive—that sends you spiraling.

The orgasm that crashes over you is sharp and all-consuming. Your hips jerk wildly, grinding against his mouth and the vibrator. A wail of his name echoes throughout the bedroom as your thighs clamp around his head, pleasure surging through you.

Bob keeps the vibrator pressed against you, albeit a little bit lighter now, drawing out every shudder, every whimper, every pulse, until you're a gasping and oversensitive mess.

Finally, he pulls back and switches off the toy, throwing it somewhere on the bed.

His face is a mess; his lips are swollen, his chin is slick and glistening, and his eyes are darkened with pride and hunger.

He gently eases you off, laying you on the pillow beside him. His lips quickly capture yours in a deep, messy kiss that tastes like you. While his usual tenderness lingers, it's laced with a new and possessive confidence.

"You're mine," he murmurs, pulling back just slightly. "Say it."

"I'm yours," you whisper.

Another kiss.

Then he retreats again, looking lovingly into your eyes. You notice his lips curve into a smile, its sweetness blending with a newfound bold satisfaction. This version of Bob was. . .different. But you couldn't say that you hated it.

You pull him closer and guide him to lie beside you, his head resting against your chest. Your fingers thread gently through his damp curls while his breathing slows.

Pressing soft kisses to his forehead, you whisper, "You were so good baby. So perfect for me."

He hums and nuzzles into your breast, finding comfort in the warm mound. "I just wanted to make you feel good."

His gaze flickers up at you, the confidence melting away back into his signature innocent, doe eyes. "Did I. . .did I make you feel good?"

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his tone.

"I felt incredible," you affirm. "I'm so proud of you."

But then, curiosity tugs at you. You smile, a teasing lilt in your voice as you ask, "Where'd that whole thing come from, though? You wanting to be in charge?"

Bob's cheeks flush, and he ducks his head back into your chest. "I-I don't know. . ." he says, barely above a whisper. "I just. . .seeing you like that—I got lost in it. I wanted to give you everything. I guess it just came out."

He pauses, eyes finding yours again. "Was it okay? Did I go too far?"

You laugh softly and cup his face. "Babe, it was more than okay. It was so hot."

Your thumb strokes over his cheek, brushing over the lingering slick. "I'd love it if you did that more."

Relief washes over him as he leans up to bury his face in your neck. "I'll do whatever you want me to. I'm all yours. Just wanna make you feel as good as you make me feel."

His words send a rush of warmth through you.

In the quiet aftermath, a realization settles deep in your chest. This man, with his unwavering devotion and gentle strength, gives you everything. You're struck by how rare it is to have someone who would shatter mountains for you, yet chooses to surrender his heart completely to you.

The thought makes you hold him tighter, gratitude swelling in your heart.

"You already do," you say, words thick with emotion as you press a kiss to his temple. "More than you know."

You start to ease off the bed, wanting to grab a washcloth from the bathroom to clean his face. But as you move, he whines and grips your waist tightly, stubbornly pulling you back.

"I'm only going to the bathroom, baby," you reassure him, brushing a kiss across his cheek. "Just getting a washcloth for you."

With a bratty huff, Bob lets you go and sits up with a pout as he watches you go. Being away from you now, even for a few seconds, was almost unbearable to him.

When you return with a warm, damp cloth, you stand over him and gently tilt his head up. You carefully wipe away the slick coating his face, his chin, and his neck. He closes his eyes and sighs under your careful ministrations.

"You're so beautiful like this," you murmur.

Bob's face somehow turns even redder.

Noticing his evergreen sweater is stained with your essence, you lift it up, and he raises his arms like a child as you peel it off. You toss it into the corner, rummaging around the nightstand for one of your shirts—his favorite; they smelled like you.

You help him slip it on, fabric draping over his broad, sculpted frame. He inhales deeply, humming contentedly.

Back on the bed, you pull the blankets over the both of you and tuck him against your side. You trace soothing circles on his back, and he basically melts into you.

"You okay?" you ask, still wanting to check in.

"Perfect," he mumbles, a sleepy smile spreading across his face. "I love you."

"Love you too."

You hold him close, your steady heartbeat lulling him into a peaceful sleep. As he nestles closer, you can't help but grin when a playful thought flickers through your mind.

"You know, you really are eager to please, aren't you?"

Bob chuckles. You can feel his smile widen into a grin against your skin.

"Always for you."

tag list: @theoraekenslover @alloboinga84

[batsandbirdbrains]

Hmm okay but picture this

Every time Dick has introduced his little brothers to his friends, they get annoyed and snippy and act like they’d rather be literally anywhere else or with anyone else. They constantly treat Dick like he’s annoying and they can’t be bothered to be around him, and usually Dick can just put up with it, ignore it, laugh it off. Because he loves his little brothers. They don’t really mean it. He has to tell himself they don’t really mean it.

But after several years of this happening anytime he brings his brothers around the other titans, or some friends he made on a mission, or literally anyone he knows, it starts to get to him. He stop inviting them to things with him, thinking they must not want to go anyway. He stops asking if they want to hang out with him at all. He’ll go whenever they call him, he’ll always help them if they need it, but he’s tired of being the one to always ask first to do something.

He’s just so tired. It’s like no one wants him around at all. It’s exhausting, trying to put on a happy face all the time.

So imagine his surprise when Jason asks him to go hang out with him and a couple friends. When Jason’s face relaxes at the sight of Dick walking through the door, and he tugs Dick over to a couple new friends he’s been going on missions with and he tells them, “This is my brother, Dickie. You probably know him as Nightwing.”

And these two can’t believe they’re in the same room as Nightwing. Jason looks like he won the lottery. Dick’s just happy Jason actually called him his brother today.

Then the next weekend, Tim begs Dick to help out the Young Justice team with training. Dick agrees, because of course he does. He’d do anything to help his brothers.

“Guys! My brother’s here to help with training!”

“Which one?”

“The best one, obviously,” Tim scoffs, then he tugs Dick into the gym and looks back at him with a shy smile on his face. Dick thinks his heart might explode after hearing Tim say with actual seriousness that Dick is his best brother.

A week after that? Damian asks him to come to the manor, says it’s urgent, and Dick rushes there, only to find Damian sitting with a notepad, waiting eagerly for him.

“What’s up?” Dick asks, sitting on the couch across from him. “Are you alright? You said it was urgent.”

“I have to write an essay for school,” Damian says, his face very serious. “It’s supposed to be about my favorite role model.”

“I mean, Jason is really the one who’s good at essays and stuff-”

“Yes, but Todd is insufferable,” Damian says quickly, then looks down at his notepad. “And besides, he is not my role model. So his input would be useless.”

“Damian?”

Dick is so confused. Damian all but pouts at him.

“You are my role model, Richard. I thought that was obvious.”

“Oh,” is all Dick says, but a smile spreads across his face. “Oh, okay. Well, yeah, okay. Do you have, like, questions you want me to answer or something?”

Damian moves to sit next to Dick, and they go over the essay prompt, and Dick answers a few questions. Helps Damian figure out how he’s going to structure his essay.

A few weeks later, Damian shows off the A he got on his essay, a small smile hidden behind the paper as Dick looks on.

Dick keeps the essay up on his refrigerator with a magnet Damian got him from the zoo. It has an elephant on it. It’s right next to the postcard Jason sent him the Gotham Airport as a joke, and the punchcard for the boba place he goes to with Tim. Two more visits and they get a free drink.

Maybe his brothers don’t hate him so much after all.

[s-4pphics]

heavily influenced by this reddit script. not proofread not anything i just need to be strangled. lowkey bully!reader x loser/closetedfreak!ellie. byee logging out again and FUCK ICE

“Hey, I—oh… Oh, fuck—“

“E—I—“

She watches you scramble on your sheets in attempts to cover yourself and catch your breath, legs clenched tight underneath your disheveled blankets.

“Hey, girl! Hi! Sorry, I was… I was, uh, just…”

Getting off. The mess is written all over your disheveled sheets. And appearance. You may have worn yourself out.

“Uh… yeah, sorry, I didn’t… hear—“

“No, no, I’m sorry—“

“No need to apologize… this is your room—“

“D—uh, what do you want?”

A charger. She ripped hers out of the wall by the already damaged cord and it snapped like a twig. A charger. She needs a charger.

Why can’t she say she needs your charger?

“I—“

A pretty simple answer.

“… Ellie?”

“Ch—yeah, I needed, uh…”

You wait patiently like she didn’t just ruin your alone time.

“You alright?” mumbled weakly, eyes glued to the light tint across your throat—hardly noticeable, but she can imagine. Must’ve been choking yourself hard enough to leave a stain.

“… Trick question?”

She laughs weakly, “not intentionally. I really am sorry.”

“All good…”

“… Yup.”

“…”

“If that’s all you—“

“So, what’s it feel like—“

“What.”

A simultaneous pin. Mutual confusion… and intrigue? Uncertainty gets her floundering all over again.

“I mean, like… not in—I’m not a pervert, I’m sorry—“ Why’d I ask that? Why did the universe allow her to open her mouth when her jeans ache to melt off her legs?

“Kinda perverted if you ask me,” muttered with fox eyes, seemingly proud—sharp. Ellie huffs and matches.

“Could say the same about you.”

“Soundin’ a little curious over there, Williams.”

Responses come up short. Say something. Is this an invitation or are you being your conniving self? Even in desperate times, you’re a fucking smartass.

Your eyes are too distracting, pinning her to stand right by your door. Why’d she come in here again?

… Charger! She broke her charger—

“It feels weird... I don’t know, saw it in porn and stole it. I guess I was curious… Not bad, though, didn’t feel… bad.”

“… That’s good.”

“Yeah. It was. Tried to get my grip right, but.”

“Oh… too tight for you?” She tries to laugh it off. No biggie. Not a big deal. Your hand just… couldn’t reach where it needed to. You’ve never been a great multitasker. The hand between your legs probably threw you for a loop, confused your senses.

“Needed it tighter, actually.”

“… Oh.”

“Yup.”

There’s something she came in here for.

“Glad I caught you before you strangled yourself.”

“Accidentally.” You correct her with a pointed finger.

“‘Course. My mistake.”

“Forgiven.”

Silence sets before you speak.

“You don’t think Imma weirdo, right?”

“Not at all. Choking… it’s practically vanilla now. Everyone does it… yeah.” She cringes through her declaration. She can practically hear your mischievous little brain cranking to life. Probably to poke fun, have a crack at her fumbling. Vanilla. Stupid.

“You do it?”

Fuck.

Her shoulders jump with faux uncaring, “if someone asked, I wouldn’t mind.”

“So if I ask, you won’t mind?”

You’ve always been light on your toes, quick-witted. Ellie loves talking to people that talk back and you’ve never hesitated. But now, she thinks you should’ve.

It’s only been a few months: you’re not close. Cordial. Respectful of your shared space. But now she can’t unthink the vision of you getting choked out until you—

“Was that… sorry.”

“No, no, just… you’re fine.”

“Are you thinking about it?”

“Might be.”

You hum, cracked and thrumming like you’re excited.

“Somethin’ you wanna ask me?” Said completely out of her control. She hardly caught the words slipping from her.

You scoff, stomping out any confidence she possessed beneath your fluffy socks.

“Come and choke me.”

—

“Before we do this, we need code.”

“… Fuckin’ geek—“

“Shut up. I don’t want it to hurt—“

“I do—“

“Dude, shut up, please,” she begs, “it doesn’t have to be anything crazy. Just… if it’s too much, snap your fingers.”

“That’s a new one.”

“It’s technique. I dunno if you’ll be able to talk. Just… can you snap?”

“Yes.”

“Then snap. Do you wanna lay down?”

You nod, suddenly timid before maneuvering onto your back, sprawled out, completely open to Ellie’s scrutiny despite being half-dressed.

“You done this before?”

“No… I’ve seen it.”

You snort, “how many times? You seem to know what you’re doing.”

“Do you trust me?”

You pause before nodding. Ellie takes the initiative—completely new for her— placing a delicate, non-combative hand on your throat. She’s practically petting the land of it. You snicker.

“Is that all?”

“I’m getting you ready. How’s this?”

“How’s what? I don’t feel anything.”

“I know you don’t. How’s the weight of my hand?”

“Fine, Ellie.”

Her index and thumb travel a bit. Mindlessly, getting a feel of your reactions, your skin beneath her. Your attitude seems to dissipate with every caress against your throat, shuddering a bit.

“Feels like nothing, right?”

You only nod this time, when her fingers dip to where your pulse rests. Her curiosity overtakes for a split second, pressing her thumb against the thrumming throb of your blood.

“You nervous?”

“…No.”

“You sure? Feels like it.”

“This your first time seeing someone horny? Virgin.” You’re a blabbermouth when you’re intimidated. Meant as a diss, in which Ellie returns plainly.

“I’m not a virgin.”

“Look at you. Hussy, hussy.” You snort, and her fingers itch for pressure, your throat beating on her thumbprint. So she squeezes, a gentle coax that tames your tongue quiet. Finally.

“How’s this.” She doesn’t sound like herself: always a quiet, broken timbre, but now acquainted with darkness, much huskier.

“I…”

“Tell me.”

“Your hands are cold. Dry as shit, too.” Withered and twitchy. You’re cracking a bit. Ellie swallows a laugh.

“What else do you feel?”

“Your dry ass hand, dipshit. Like I just said.” You voice with spite, but she’s unphased.

“They feel good on you?”

And you swallow, saliva caught in the middle of her palm. She smirks.

“Yeah?” She whispers, and she sees the beginnings of a nod—a slight jerk in your chin. Still too prideful.

“Answer me… Can’t talk?” She pries when you refuse. “Don’t want to?”

You send her a harsh squint before your palm flattens beside your head, fingers jumpy. Contemplating.

Your pride shoves a hand in your panties.

You’ve won, it’s written all over your face—the satisfaction of cornering her, the wet sloshes from your pussy, teeth blocking your moans from escaping your lips.

It's cute. It's funny.

“Needed it tighter? That’s what you said, right?” A shocked squeal rattles your lungs when her hand goes firm, tightens around the sides—the groan you release is broken, vibrates against her skin.

Ellie can’t see but she can hear—quite well: how messy your fingers are going to be after this is all over, how tempted her inner voice is to lick your fingers clean while you tell her how good she is. Thanks for the help, dipshit, breath snatched from you, remnants of your pleasure dampening your underwear to smear against your thighs.

She’d clean the mess up there too if you’d let her.

Your eyes roll and a free hand clamps around her wrist and her grasp immediately lightens on your veins.

“You oka—“

“‘M boutta fuckin’ cum, idiot—choke me, fuck—gimme it harder.”

Fingers rest lax on your throat. “What do you say?” She scoffs.

“What.”

“No manners?”

“… I’m gonna—“

“Cum?” She hums, “I know—“

“—beat your fuckin’ ass—“

Your moan squeezes past the minuet space between your airway and her palm when her fingers return to their exact position, fingers already plunging back between—your fingers are probably getting milked dry.

“Nasty slut,” she murmurs—tediously, a bit wobbly. Experimenting. Ellie gets ahead of herself when she’s horny; could be her brain fucking with her like it always does, but she swears she heard you beg to call you that again, abliet jumbled and slobbery and cracked like glass bound to shatter.

“Use your manners.” She mumbles against your cheek, kisses them gently while she reminds you, “‘member what I said about snapping?” She feels you nod, hand flying from her arm to hip, pulling her into you, feeling your fingers work their wonders from beneath that piece of shit cloth. Shoulda ripped it to shreds when she walked in.

“P… ple—mmn—“

“Wanna cum? What do you say?” She grits, grinds into your thigh whenever the muscles in them tense and rise to her.

“Huh, slut? Ask me nicely, c’mon, tell me what you need.”

“Please pleas—please, please, oh, fuckfuck—“

Ellie’s weight on you stuns the stutters in your hips when you orgasm, rocked to the hilt, eyes trapped at the back of your skull. All she can do is laugh in her shock.

Her roommate just busted under her.

“There it is, there you go, that’s good, huh?” Yammering on and on about who knows what: all she knows is that your legs are clamped around her hips like you’re trying to lock her inside. Is it just the choking or do you like her voice that much? She can’t really tell from here.

You’re not the only one thoughtless and dumbed out because the first thing she says, just as your pupils return from their glossed-out state and her hand’s locking up from her grip, she mutters,

“Can I borrow your charger?”

You stare blankly before holding up an approving thumb.

[bugzzybabe]

Social Media [Steve Rogers x Reader]

Summary: Reader teaches Steve how to use social media and he sees her more provocative pictures.

Authors Note: This was written with the intention of a second part so let me know by the end if that sounds appealing. Enjoy!

WC: 1.2k

Steve might have been over a hundred years old but he did his best to keep up with the times. Over the past two years of being with the Avengers, Steve and you had fallen into routine of you casually keeping him up to date with societal standards and routines. Whether it was explaining to him hookup culture or ubers, he was always attentive during your lessons.

You hadn't recognized it, but the past few months, Steve had been taking extra care to impress you. Listening and being there for you was something he took extra pride in as he wanted you to know that he cared.

Little did he know, you had also grown quite fond off the talks you would share. The way his shoulder would brush yours would send shocks down your spine as you tried to ignore any type of non platonic feelings. You truly believed he could never feel that way about you, so you did your best to maintain the friendship.

It was especially hard to keep this act up though when he was staring at you with those bright blue eyes that peered straight into your thumping heart, as he was doing now.

"Please teach me how to use the online medias. Tony won't stop posting pictures of my butt and posting them on the bird app calling it 'America's Ass'." Steve shuttered as he recounted the memes the team would make of him when he wasn't looking. Tony did have a secret spam that he would use to often make fun of the team in a loving way. Everyone assumed it was Peter's doing until you walked in one day on Tony snickering while posting a photo of Clint having fallen asleep in one of the vents.

Looking back at the tall and brutally handsome man in front of you, you sighed and patted the seat on the couch next to you. Steve gave you that faint worthy smile as he politely sat within arms reach of you. The body heat he gave off made you want to melt but you brushed it off and gestured for his phone.

"Oh right!" He fumbled as he patted his pockets down for the phone under Stark Technologies. Steve was one of the only people who denied all the updates Tony would provide for all the team's tech. You always felt bad as using technology for Steve was hard enough without all the constant updates of flashy nonsense.

"So first I'm going to go to the app store and download some of the more common social media apps like Twitter and Instagram." You gently explained as Steve watched you maneuver throughout his phone. He was always left in awe of how natural it all came to you.

"And I don't have to pay for it?" He questioned as you shook your head.

"Nope! Some apps cost money but most don't. Either way, Tony probably would cover it no problem." You stated as the apps downloaded.

Once they were loaded, you opened Instagram and began to sign Steve up. Since there was already an account for Captain America, run by the team's press, there was no need to create a professional one.

"Now I'm gonna make you an account just for your personal use, not to promote any avengers things. Just for Steve!" He nodded along as you rambled, just in awe of you. Honestly you could say anything and he would probably go along with it.

"You can use this account to post or not post whatever. Some people use it for aesthetic pictures they take, photos of friends and family or just selfies of themselves."

"What do you post?" Steve asked as your rambling was cut short. You should've expected this question but you never thought your crush/friend/coworker would ever see your feed (seeing as Steve is clueless when it comes to the internet).

You blushed and stammered to answer, "Well I post pictures of my friends, food I really liked or photos that I look good in I guess..." You mumble the last part and internally beg he wouldn't request to see it. The reason for this being that you had a couple bikini pictures up that usually weren't a problem or shameful secret, but you just didn't want Steve seeing them.

"Can I follow you?" Steve asks with a soft look in his eyes. Your heart fluttered as you pretended to be chill and shrugged looking back at his phone. You proceeded to look up your account and followed it before quickly exiting before he had a chance to see anything.

Steve smiled at you before continuing the conversation, "Thank you for helping me with all this. I didn't want to ask the others and have them make fun of me." He shyly stated as you looked at the man with wide eyes. You didn't realize how comfortable he felt around you until you realized you were the person he came to for help with all of this.

"Oh Steve, it's no problem at all! Plus you're such a fast learner that it's no big deal." Plus you loved being around him so that made it easy. You weren't gonna tell him that last part though...

After another hour of explaining how social media worked, Steve gave you another genuine smile and excused himself to go finish up a last minute report. The second he left the room you let out an exhausted sigh and sunk back into the couch.

Everytime Steve was around you, you got so in your own head that he basically consumed your mind. Little did you know you had the same effect on Steve. The second he stepped into his office, he let out a sigh he didn't realize he was holding. The only real reason he wanted to get on social media was to see all the photos you always seemed to be posting. He saw one of your photos on Natashas phone the other day when she left it out and had never felt so compelled to steal something before.

Within the privacy of his office, Steve finally brought his phone back out and opened Instagram. Going to his following page like you taught him, he opened your account and almost passed out. Right there on your third latest post was a picture of you and Wanda from a hike you had gone on a couple days prior.

Looking at the blissful smile on your face, Steve felt himself falling even harder for you. He continued to scroll through your account until he landed on one of your posts from a couple months ago. You had gone with the girls on a beach trip (funded by Tony) and had a mini photoshoot at the beach. Steve's face flushed bright red as he tried not to look too hard at the photo. He couldn't help but admire the red one piece you were wearing and how it hugged each of your curves in a way that left his mouth watering.

Fumbling to exit out of the photo before he continued to think the lewd thoughts forming in his mind, Steve accidentally hit the like button. Actively trying to not mess up further, Steve threw his phone across the room, hoping it would turn off. Digging his nails into the desk, he took deep breaths as to try and erase the image of you looking so breathtakingly stunning in his mind.

Hesitantly going to pick back up his phone, Steve noticed a new message from you. He quickly opened it up to find a text that made his breath catch, "Come meet me in my room in 10". Holy shit. 

Authors Note: Comment if you want a part 2 with smut ;)

[sereia4skz]

hi can I request head cannons for each member when you didn’t establish a safe word and he started choking you and you were unconfortable with it and tried to get him to stop and he didn’t until you started crying like not in a good way, and how they would react? (or you can do when you’re a virgin and they go to rough on you)

headcannons | you don't have a safeword

pairing: ot8!straykids x reader

genre: hurt comfort

warnings: unintentional rough sex, choking, emotional distress, crying, and panic, discussion of safe words, consent, and post-incident care

masterlist: A-Side (texts) | B-Side (written)

AN: HAVING A SAFE WORD IS SOOO IMPORTANT!!! EVEN IF YOU DON'T THINK YOU'LL NEED ONE! EVEN IF YOU DON'T THINK IT'S KINKY ENOUGH TO REQUIRE ONE!

BANG CHAN

He’s focused on being gentle, in his mind, he is being careful. But your soft winces, the shaky sounds in your breath? He misses them in the moment, too wrapped up in trying to stay in control. When he finally looks at your face and sees the tears, everything in him stops.

“Y/N...? Oh, no, no- are you crying? Shit. Baby, did I hurt you? Oh my god!”

He pulls out immediately, wraps his arms around you, tucks you to his chest like he’s shielding you from the world. He’s devastated he didn’t realize, and you’ll see the guilt all over his face as he whispers, “I thought I was being gentle. I’m so sorry. Please can we talk? I need to know how to make this right.”

He won’t touch you again until you initiate it. He’ll research how to have first-time sex safely, talk with you about pacing, about signals, and he’ll beg you to set up a safe word together. 

LEE KNOW

He doesn't mean to take it out on you. He’d been frustrated, pent-up, and you offering comfort turned into rough, hurried touches and sharp thrusts. You tried to keep up, you didn’t want to ruin the mood. But it hurt. And when you started crying, his entire body went still like ice water had been poured over him.

“Wait. Y/N. You’re crying. Fuck. What did I do?”

He pulls back instantly, breath ragged, not even touching you. His jaw tightens with self-directed anger. “I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have touched you like that. I- god, I’m so sorry.”

He disappears into the bathroom for a few minutes, not to escape, but to get himself under control. Comes back with water, warm towels, and the softest apology in his voice. He’ll spend the next few days completely tuned in to your emotions. If you still want to be intimate, he won’t let anything happen unless he’s positive you’re fully into it, you’ll see a softer, slower version of him for a little.

CHANGBIN

He was in the moment, loving your reactions, your moans, the way your body moved. But he didn’t realize how strong he was being until he saw your face twist in discomfort… and then the tears came. It hits him like a brick wall.

“Oh my god- Y/N? No, no, no… baby, what did I do?”

His arms wrap around you before he even realizes he’s moving, holding you to his chest like he can protect you from the hurt he just caused. His own eyes brim with guilt. “I didn’t know. I wasn’t paying attention. I should’ve-”

He’s scared. Not of you, but of himself. Scared that he broke something sacred. He’ll ask you later: “Do you still trust me?”, and you’ll see just how much he needs that answer. From then on, everything becomes gentle with him. You’ll never have to question your safety in his arms again.

HYUNJIN

He thinks it’s something you might like, his hand loosely wrapping around your neck, watching your reaction, but your stillness and the way your breathing changes doesn’t escape him. Even though you don’t say anything, he stops.

“Wait. Y/N? Is this okay?”

And when you can’t answer, when your lip wobbles and the tears start to fall, his hand is gone like he’s been electrocuted.

“No. No, no, I’m sorry- please don’t cry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He pulls you into his arms immediately, voice trembling. “I shouldn’t have done that without asking. I should’ve asked.”

He’s quiet for a long time after, just letting you breathe. But later, he comes back with a printed article on safe kink practices, softly asking if you’d want to read it together. Hyunjin grows from this. He becomes your safe place, never taking control again unless you hand it to him freely.

HAN

You didn’t know how to say stop, but your body said it for you. Jisung was needy, fast, lost in the pleasure of it all, until your sob caught in your throat and he looked down and saw your face. He immediately pulls out, hands shaking.

“Oh my god. Y/N. No. Are you okay?! Baby- fuck, you’re crying?”

His panic spirals so fast, he’s near tears too. He sits with you on the bed, holding your hands with trembling fingers. He needs to know you’re okay, but he’s too scared to push.

“Was I too rough? I didn’t know. I thought you were okay- I should’ve checked- I should’ve asked. Please say something…”

Afterward, he becomes so gentle. Afraid to hurt you again. He starts asking “Too much?” after every move, slowing down even when he doesn’t need to. And you’ll catch him holding you at night longer than usual, softly whispering, “I never want to make you cry like that again. I swear.”

FELIX

His hand was on your throat, gentle at first, and you thought you could handle it. But then it lingered too long, your breath shortened, and you tried to say the safeword… but it wouldn’t come out. Your eyes welled with tears. Felix sees them the second they fall, and instantly lets go.

“Oh my god! Oh, love. I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear you? Were you trying to say the word? Oh, sweetheart…”

He cradles your face, guilt written all over his expression. He wraps you in the softest blanket he can find, speaking to you in low, soothing tones. He feels like he failed you. And from then on, he asks if you want a non-verbal safeword, a hand squeeze, a tap, something you can always use, no matter what.

SEUNGMIN

He can be a little teasing, cocky, confident, and in the moment, he doesn’t realize how deeply it’s affecting you. Not until your body tightens beneath him and the tears start.

“...Y/N?”  He stops, blinks, startled. “Shit. You’re crying. Was I- was I too rough? Fuck, I didn’t mean to be.”

He backs off immediately, tugs the blanket over both of you. His expression is unreadable,  serious and worried. “Why didn’t I notice? I thought you liked it…”. But there’s no defensiveness. Just guilt. Just quiet hurt at the idea of causing you pain. 

“We’re never doing anything again unless you say exactly what you want, and I check in every step. No more guessing."

I.N 

He’s nervous, eager, and trying so hard to do everything right. But he doesn’t know how to pace himself, and he doesn’t notice how much you’re hurting until your voice cracks and the tears start to roll down your face.

“W-Wait, wait, are you crying?! Y/N, no- oh no, no no, I’m sorry-”

He panics. Like, full-body panic. Pulls back, covers you with the blanket, starts apologizing over and over, hands shaking as he cups your cheek.

“Did I mess everything up? I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t know what I was doing. Please tell me you’re okay.”

You’ll need to reassure him gently, he’s so scared you’ll never want to touch him again. But after that, Jeongin becomes the kind of partner who always waits for your lead. Always asks. Always watches your face.

“Next time… let’s go slower. Only when you’re ready. Only if you’re smiling.”

taglist: @diekleinesuesse @tillaboo @felixsonlyrealwife @geni-627 @skz8riley @lezleeferguson-120 @pixie-felix @headfirstfortoro @alnex05 @baby-stay92 @encoredesires @androgynouscrownorbit @channiesluvrclub @my-neurodivergent-world @chims-dimple @bookswillfindyouaway @stellasays45 @angel-writes-skz-here @m-325 @0sunshinecryptid0 @beal-o @hug4helios @oksullen @rileylovescats @dreamyfelixx @yxna-bliss @turtledove824 @enhacolor @skzz0213 @hannahlue

[narcjsistx]

— 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 !

✶ plot: you and your boyfriend are invited to a show where you have to answer questions that your fans are asking on the internet. the situation couldn't be that difficult, right?

✶ characters: sae itoshi and micheal kaiser

✶ 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

✶ ITOSHI SAE ᡣ𐭩 𓂃

When Sae came home a week ago with the news that he was supposed to be on a TV show the following week, you honestly weren't that surprised. You knew how famous he was, how much reporters begged him to be on their TV shows and not just interview him after the end of a game. The only surprise for you was the fact that he accepted, knowing also how much he hates everything that doesn't concern soccer, you, and maybe his family. Maybe he accepted because he was interested in the topic they were probably going to talk about, or maybe he just felt magnanimous for once after the last time, where he almost insulted a journalist for insisting too much. Maybe his manager had simply forced him

None of your visions included a TV program like this, but above all you didn't expect to have to be at his side, even though you didn't mind. You and your boyfriend weren't big fans of publicizing your relationship on social media like most of his teammates did, but apparently this "hidden" act only fed the internet world more, especially his fanbase. Not that you or Sae were ashamed of the other, quite the opposite, but you preferred to love each other in peace rather than be forced, for a question of social ethics of celebrities, to always have to inform the whole world of what you were doing

Sae had explained to you that he didn't want to accept, but his manager had insisted so much that for the first time in years, he couldn't refuse. So, dressed in your best not so elegant clothes, you found yourself next to your boyfriend in a large TV studio in Madrid, not too far from your apartment. They had explained to you what you were supposed to do once the camera started broadcasting nationally, and honestly, the idea of answering questions was fun: you weren't very online with his fan base, but you knew how curious they might be about you or your relationship. Sae didn't share your enthusiasm, but honestly that wasn't anything new to be surprised either

"Hi! Today we'll answer the questions that the director thought were the funniest and most interesting. For those who don't know us, I'm Y/n and this guy next to me is..." you say to the camera, which pans to Sae, who simply shrugs "Sae Itoshi" he says, and you press your lips together to keep from laughing at his already annoyed behavior. A small bowl full of notes is placed on the table in front of you, and both you and your boyfriend watch it curiously, while the program director explains to the viewers that you will have to fish out the notes and answer the question that has been asked to you

"Ladies first" says the host, and you smile at the camera, fishing out a note, one at the bottom of the bowl. You open it, the delicate pink paper creasing beneath your fingers "The first one who said I love you" you read aloud, looking up at Sae, who rests his head in the palm of his hand. He snorts, while you chuckle "Who said that, Sae?" you ask raising an amused eyebrow, and he takes the note, tossing it into the bowl of answered questions. It reminds you of an evening four years ago, where the December cold went away after a few simple words, after a few months of dating. Sae tilts his head "There’s no need to make a big deal out of it, I said so. You make it sound like something so impossible" he says, and you laugh "It seems impossible! I mean, you don’t expect such sweet words from someone who’s known in the field by such cold names that they make summer the new winter" you say, and as much as he wants to hide it from the camera, a small smirk curls across his lips, then replaced by a sigh "You're not funny" he says, but meanwhile he's taking the second note from the bowl. Sae reads it first on his own, then raises an eyebrow as he reads it out loud "Fans are wondering who stalked the most in the beginning..." he asks, and you purse your lips, glaring at him a little "There’s no need to respond to stuff like that" you say, but he tosses the note back, relaxing against the back of his chair "Does it bother you to admit you were obsessed?" he asks tilting his head a bit, and you immediately shake your head "That’s not true at all!"

"Just to give context to the people watching at home, before we even spoke for the first time she was following me everywhere" Sae says to the camera, but you laugh nervously "What’s wrong with following soccer players on social? Everyone does it. I never thought I’d date one" you say defensively, but he shakes his head, not happy "She was like an obsessed fan, sending random messages about her day as if I’d text her back eventually" he says, and you wonder if this is a TV show or the final scene of a movie about psychological torture. You throw up your hands "Is it so wrong to dream?" you ask perplexed, and he nods "Yes, when is really impossible" he says, but you glare at him "Something worked if we're together now though" you say, and the presenter chuckles a little backstage. Sae looks at you slightly surprised, then nods "Something definitely worked" he admits, and you smile victoriously before taking the next ticket "Who acts most single when they go out alone?" you read, but you and Sae look at each other at the same time, before throwing the note into the second container "Neither of us. We solve the problem at the root, by not going out" you say sarcastically, actually wondering why fans ask for such a thing, even though it's actually quite normal and surely just out of curiosity. Sae, who you know isn't particularly fond of giving further explanations, clears his throat "Neither of us because we just don't have the reason to behave that way. We respect each other, why we would ruin all by doing something so stupid?" he says, and you nod, your heart a little more in love. Even though you already know the answer in your heart, it's nice to hear that he has no problem saying it out loud. As much as you know perfectly well how much he loves you, hearing him explain it clearly on national television makes you even a little more proud of yourself for having found your soulmate

"You can move on to the next one" the host says, and you wake up a little from your reverie as you dip your hand into the bowl, fishing out yet another card. You open the card "What's the weirdest nickname you give to each other?" you read it, and start laughing uncontrollably. The camera focuses on you laughing, and Sae massages his temples "This is going to be a while…" he says dejectedly, and you can’t help but start wiping away the tears at the edges of your eyes "That’s a question I’ve honestly been waiting for" you say, and Sae looks at you a little puzzled "I wonder why" he says annoyed, and you shake your head "You are really full of resentment" you say, and the audience explodes a bit at your response. You clear your throat "For those who don't understand... about a year ago there were rumors that the two of us had broken up. Which was completely false! He had simply been away from home for 2 months for a training session in America and I couldn't reach him. To dispel the false news I posted a post on my social media where I compared him to my honey bear with cinnamon and sugar. Let's say he wasn't particularly pleased" you explain, and the audience starts laughing, unlike Sae "Just saying we hadn't broken up was complex?" he asks, and you nod "Very complex" you say, then throwing the note into the second bowl "Anyway I think the weirdest nickname I gave him was something related to the color of his hair. I think... reddish chocolate fountain with strawberries of my heart. Something like that" you say proudly, and he grunts "I only call her by her name" he says justifying himself, but you shake your head "He constantly uses "mi linda" guys!" you scream at the audience, earn yourself some laughs by the people and two eyes that look at you very badly, but in love

✶ MICHEAL KAISER ᡣ𐭩 𓂃

Appearing on TV, since you were in an official relationship with Kaiser, was not such a strange thing: his fanbase had loved you from the first second he had announced you as his lovely girlfriend, and the journalists at the same time loved how you were as charismatic as the so called "emperor". The paparazzi were your best friends by now, and as much as you and Michael hated being interrupted, you both loved showing each other how much you loved each other. Before you were with him you spent a normal tuesday night at home, maybe with a pizza and a cheap ice cream, now it was normal to see you parading on the biggest red carpets in dresses whose price you couldn't even pronounce. Kaiser just loved to show you, show you how beautiful you were in his arms, all his

You sigh, looking at yourself in the pocket mirror for the last time: the hairdresser has slightly ruined your hair, but you can improve it if they give you a few more minutes. Which you don't have at all, since in less than two minutes you have to appear in front of the whole of Germany. Kaiser chuckles, closing the mirror, putting it in his pocket "Come on, you want to make yourself look good for someone other than me?" he says sarcastically, and you snort "You know, we’re just about to be interviewed by our country’s main TV station. I wonder how you can be so calm" you say, and he lifts your chin, kissing your cheek "I already have them all at my feet. Plus, this red tux looks great on me" he says with a cocky expression, something you're used to by now. You sigh, pursing your lips "I swear, if you say anything even remotely embarrassing..." you say, but are interrupted by the static that announces you're about to walk into the studio. Kaiser smirks at you, taking your hand and starting to walk, while you let out a few long sighs

Before you know it, you're sitting on a velvet couch with his hand on your thigh. The audience roars happily as you wave to the cameras, and the host briefly explains what you'll have to do: answer questions, look hot, and just be honest. It doesn't seem that hard, but at the same time you feel a slight shiver from the anxiety. The women in the audience explode when Kaiser loosens his tie, before taking the first ticket and passing it to you. You thank him with a nod, before reading the note "Who flirts the most without realizing it?" you read, and the audience lets out a big yelp. Both you and him burst into giggles, as you lean slightly into him "I wonder why they wonder that" you say, and he shrugs, amused "Well, did you see us?" he says. You clear your throat " don’t think I even have to answer this question. I mean, I think you all know what Kaiser's like. He flirts and breathes. He does it even when he tells me he’s going to the bathroom and doesn’t want to be disturbed" you say, and the audience bursts into laughter again, and it seems like genuine laughter. Kaiser takes the note, throwing it into the empty bowl "I don't think anyone can stop me. After all, it's you" you say, and you leave him a kiss on the cheek "Next!" you say amusedly, taking the pink slip this time: you open it delicately, tilting your head "Who took the first step to make the relationship official?" you read, and think about it "Let's say it was him. When we became a couple I wanted to wait a few months because, well, he was famous. I didn't know his fanbase well and especially his fangirls, I was a little scared. But he insisted, saying they would love me, and one day he simply came into the living room and while sipping coffee he told me "I'm making it official" and then walked away, to the kitchen. I simply accepted it, let's say that way" you explain, and Kaiser nods "It was pretty much like that. Only I was sipping tea, not coffee. But I can live with a mistake like that" he says, and as you roll your eyes in amusement, he's taking the third ticket "... Who checked the other's phone first?" he question, and you tighten your lips, raising your arm a little defeated "Guilty" you say, and he chuckles, placing his hand on your thigh again "She was a little worried that a foreign manager was in my dm’s. She just found me telling this woman to fuck off" he says, and you remember that moment with a bit of embarrassment "I haven't done it again... and then it was like the first month of the relationship! I still had some doubts" you say defensively, but he doesn't seem worried at all "After three years I think you can eliminate all your doubts" he says amused, and you sigh, taking the card

"Who gives in first after a fight?" you read, and he looks at you, smirking "Anything to say?" he says, and you throw the note away, in another cup "Be thankful we're on national TV. Anyway, me" you say crossing your arms, and he chuckles into the camera, with his usual charisma "She can't physically stay away from me in silence for more than a few hours. It often happens that even after arguing she asks me to hug her before sleeping, and I always have to accept" he says proudly, and you raise an eyebrow "Was it so necessary to expose myself so much?" you ask annoyed, and he kisses the back of your hand "Afraid of reality, pretty face?"

[xylatox]

Caught in Your Spell || kth

Ive been so excited to read this and im very excited for every minute of it! I feel so giddy whenever I read fics of my bias. Anywho unto my thoughts :) 

Already obsessed because ever since I watched The Apothecary Diaries Ive been obsessed with seeing it in fics

She wishes you were more aware of this advantage; maybe then you would be able to do something about this weird tension between you and the prestigious member of the royal court, Mage Kang. 

I already love the idea that they have a somewhat established relationship! It definitely sets the tone for the entire fic.

”I certainly am,” Taehyun says, cocking his head as it becomes his turn to stare you down, “don’t tell me you’re already sick of seeing me here?”

And even from the first moments its evident that the weird tension is intact present, i absolutely love it

“She has a point— about the deliveries.” his voice is muffled by the flowers, and you lean in closer to hear better. “I’d hate to be replaced, I quite like talking to you. Two.”

I giggled, nice save Taehyun. Also I absolutely love Yunah soso much, everything about her personality is not only endearing but you can tell shes the most loving friend

Yeonjun😭oh my god ALSO IM SO SLOW, I DIDNT NOT REALIZE THEIR FAMILIARS WERE PPULBATU OH MY GOD. AND THE MOMENT WITH YEONJUN HELLO???? Taehyun my love look away </3 Ik hes using magic but still

I also feel so bad for mc when we get her feelings, it must be super hard to be human among some many different people who arent like her

Though Taehyun’s ears flush a deep scarlet, and the skin of his neck that peeks out from his uniform blushes a gentle pink, he doesn’t bother objecting to Yunah's claims— it’d be futile, and they both know it. He remains deep in thought instead, fishing through his bag for the payment, wishing nothing more than to see you and comfort you. 

Screaming. I love that he doesnt even try to deny it

“Do you…” Taehyun stops himself, watching your eyes dart away, ashamed. Reaching out for your hand, he smiles sweetly at you, nodding back to the platforms behind him. “Would you like to accompany me?”

Screaming x2 hes so fucking cute i cannot take it

The entire moment where they cross the Opal Bridge and Taehyun kind of teases her and tells her she should just say hisz nameee :(((( i love them

After your rendezvous at Opal Bridge, you could no longer ignore the charged air between you two— there was something forming, something neither of you were keen to acknowledge just yet; a fragile, sweet bud that urged to bloom into a proud flower, begged to be tended to. 

Oh my god this line.

I was hoping the guy that mysteriously came was Beomgyu and I was so happy that it was him and not like a bad guy LOL. Also not that I dont love Beomgyu but I have the same question :((( where is Taehyun

“You’re not denying it,” Beomgyu’s lips curl into a childish little smirk, like he’s holding back the urge to giggle, “don’t worry, you can just flirt with me in the meantime— don’t let your routine get disrupted.”

This is such a beomgyu coded line oh my god

Through the lighthearted insults and giggles, the reality of Beomgyu’s words start to crash onto you, like an overwhelming, sobering wave. The representatives from Flora. Humans. Them. 

Oh :(( Also hearing Gyu’s thoughts on falling in love with a human makes me so sad because now im thinking if Taehyun thinks the same and yknow despite liking mc he wouldnt push because of her race(??)

“But, that doesn’t mean it’s impossible,” His words have an unprecedented softness to them, genuine in his answer as he continues, “I think, if it were love, I’d look past it all— I’d let them drag me down, I’d pick up after their messes happily. I’d take care of them no matter how fragile they were.”

This is such a sweet ending to his words tho :(( 

“Love, I only ask of you to help me with the most basic of potions,” she soothes, now standing before you at the counter, “something so simple, even a… powerless, human would be able to achieve it.”

I immediately dont like her and jesus this seems dangerous. Lowkey scared of Irene why does she feel like shes related something more

You want to forget Taehyun’s disparaging words, to erase the degrading look in his eyes. You want to pretend as though all your fears weren’t only confirmed in the end, left with an insolent reminder that you’ll never be anything more than a mere human. 

I feel so sad. I know he means well but ugh. Also that entire scene was so insane I was at a literal lost for words and I genuinely feel so bad for the mc, my poor baby. I love that Taehyun also tried his best to look after mc but she’s so in her head it actually breaks my heart at the distance she created which is very valid imo.

And the way Irene is a necromancer oh my god you dangerous woman. I feel soso bad for mc because despite the very obvious fact that Yunah is looking out for her shes so in her head that she doesnt see that and just thinks everyone sees her as a mere human and it hurts

“Did you and Yunah have fun? Stringing me along like this?” you say, standing up and glaring at Taehyun; he frowns, opening his mouth to say something, but is left speechless. “Making me believe that I’d ever belong in a place like this, when in reality, you were no better than everyone else here that saw me as a little pet!” 

No baby no :((( 

“You think I’m happy with all of this? Do you really think it was my idea to send you off like this, away from me?”

OH MY GOD THIS LINE?!? Not Taehyun saying the sweetest words so easily what the fuck.

“I just can’t afford to lose you,” he says weakly; he’s just a step away from you now, his face so close you can analyze the look in his eyes, count every eyelash that brushes against his skin with every blink, “and if it meant letting you go to keep you safe… I’d do that, too.”

Hes so in love with her im going to pass out

THE KISS AHHHH YESSSSS 

“Tell me to stop,” the look in his eyes is slowly darkening, losing that innocent shine to make way for something more— something desperate. His hand on your back has begun to wander dangerously low, hovering at the small of your back and threatening to go lower— his eyes flicker down to your shining, swollen lips, ready to dive back in, but he holds himself back. “Tell me to end it here, and I’ll listen.”

I literally went im going to pass out. Oh my god

Also being bound by magic hello???

“You imagined this?”

“So many times,” he immediately breathes out, tilting his head to kiss you deeper before pulling away briefly, letting go of your face to tug at his remaining clothes, “thought of having you under me like this so many times, making you feel good like this.”

What a good ass day to be a Tyun bias

“I meant everything I said. And more,” he suddenly speaks up, burying his head into you, fond of the comfort it brings, “Stay with me. I don’t care what Yunah thinks is best for you— I want you to stay.”

I really might pass out

He smiles, expectant of the question. “At home. He’s been missing you all day.”

“Then what are we waiting for?!” you push him away, running behind the counter to grab your bag, “let’s go home!” 

This is so cute. I always like it when characters refer to home so sweetly. And god, the ending just makes me so darn happy. 

Sol! Hello!! This is my first fic of yours and goodness im so glad I read I was not disappointed one bit. This was so good. I absolutely love your writing, its soso good you have such a way with words. Also when i checked your pinned post I saw your now playing was a PTV song and that makes me so giddy so see a fellow lover of their music also into kpop! Anyways lol, Im so excited to read all your other works. This was such a lovely introduction.

Caught in Your Spell

♬ : Cherish (My Love), ILLIT, Romeo, Pinkpantheress, For: You, Kali Uchis

"Being a simple human in a magic-dominated city was not for the weak. You can deal with the endless teasing, the inaccessible architecture, and the belittling from others around you, always taking pride in your tough skin— but when it comes to your hopeless pining after Mage Kang Taehyun, maybe your heart isn’t as strong against the insecurities that nag at your brain as you thought."

mage!taehyun x human!fem!reader 

genre: fantasy, fluff, angst, smut

word count: 22.2K

warnings: barely proof read… we die like men i’m sorry. bit of a miscommunication trope ?  mc is having an identity crisis pls bear with her, brief violence/blood (nothing graphic) taehyun is a little mean for a moment… but he means well ! 

smut warnings: soft dom!taehyun, sub!mc, dry humping kinda, oral(f. rec.) fingering, multiple orgasms, praise, pet names (good girl, baby, angel, love) use of restraints (bondage?), overstimulation, begging?, creampies, scratching, cockwarming, lmk if i missed anything!

notes: guys… i’ve never been so locked in for a fic before. this was sooo fun, pls let me know your thoughts ! ive also scattered a few references here hehe, some more obvious than others. let me know if you spot any! 

You knew what you were getting into the moment Yunah proposed the idea; starting an apothecary in the capital was not an easy feat, but her determination and alluring promises made you see only success for your futures— sometimes, you like to tease that she used an enchantment spell on you, which she always dismisses with a laugh.

”You know how unethical I find that,” she reminds you each time, fluttering her eyes at you playfully, “and that’s actually my natural charm you’re referring to, by the way.”

Being one of the few humans that resides in such a magic dominated city had plenty of downsides; you were made well aware how other wizards saw you, always belittled and babied despite your wit and knowledge— the caution that came with your presence, afraid that even the slightest breath in your direction would cause you to shatter. Not to mention the surprisingly inaccessible architecture that littered the city: not everyone has the ability to levitate!

It was a stressful, fast paced life you lived, one you wouldn’t change if it meant leaving Yunah’s side— she was your rock, despite your differences, who never put meaning into what you could or couldn’t do; in her eyes, you were her sun: a bright, healing, energizing light. You brought life wherever you went, possessing a magnetic energy that she deemed magical in itself. She wishes you were more aware of this advantage; maybe then you would be able to do something about this weird tension between you and the prestigious member of the royal court, Mage Kang. 

“Just this for now.” Taehyun huffs, placing down an impressive armful of tiger lilies before you, “Though, I think I may have to return again tonight.” 

“So many flowers,” you whistle, picking up the handfuls of lilies to tie them together and package them nicely, “who could possibly be worthy of such grand bouquets?”

“Oh no, these aren’t to be gifted,” Taehyun is quick to correct; when you peer up at him through your lashes in curiosity, he looks away, staring out the window and clearing his throat before he can continue. “They’re for the queen. They make for a beautiful delicacy, and it’s all she’s been craving recently.”

“The baby will be roaring at birth at this point. You can’t possibly be serious when you say you’ll return, right?” 

”I certainly am,” Taehyun says, cocking his head as it becomes his turn to stare you down, “don’t tell me you’re already sick of seeing me here?”

Your eyes widen at his sudden surge of confidence, shrinking back shyly as you attempt to sputter out a comeback— Yunah decides she’d much rather do it for you as she chirps off in her little corner. 

“Of course not; you’re the highlight of her day,” she grins, sending Taehyun a wink, “and my entertainment.”

Taehyun’s canines sparkle from the wide smile he sports, looking back at you with joy glowing in his eyes. “Is that so? I’m flattered.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re falling for Yunah’s lies so easily,” you scoff, though the sourness in your face is quick to sweeten as familiar company jumps onto the counter, drawn to the crinkling paper you use to wrap the bright flowers— your voice is pure sugar as you stare at the creature fondly. “the only highlight here is getting to see Dago. Isn’t that right? I’ve missed you!” 

Taehyun can only stand back in shock as you turn your full attention (and undying adoration) to his familiar. Dagonyang is quite eager for the onslaught of attention, round eyes sparkling and dilating at your loving coos, fluffy tail swishing curiously as you gently run your fingers through his fur and scratch beneath his chin— it draws a low purr from the cat, which in turn makes you squeal and plant a soft kiss to his forehead; Taehyun’s brows all but fly off his head. 

“Oh you’re so cute, I wish you could stay with me instead— how bout it?” The flowers are an abandoned afterthought, your body bumbling with cuteness aggression as Dagonyang rubs himself against you, knocking his head against your hands in search of more pets— his eyes are closed in bliss. “You’d be better off here— I can’t imagine how boring the royal life must be, you should just stay here and sunbathe in front of the window instead. You’d attract many new clientele too, I’m sure.”

Before you can process it, Dagonyang becomes nothing but cat-hair glued to your sweater; Taehyun has scooped him up in his arms, thick biceps bulging to hold back his familiar that tries to jump back onto the counter— a stern look at the starry-eyed cat is enough to calm him down, and Taehyun loosens his grip to let him jump to the floor instead. Peering over the counter, you watch him loop around between Taehyun’s legs; he clears his throat, a last resort to get you to look back up at him. 

“I doubt he’d be a good fit for this place. His kitty claws are much stronger than you think.” There’s something unusual about his voice, despite the lighthearted jokes he’s making— something that shaves off that soft, mellow rumble and leaves a rocky undertone that puts you on edge. Afraid that you might catch on, he gives you a playful look that shrugs off your suspicion. “And he has quite the appetite. Half your store’s product would be gone the next morning.”

“I guess you have a point,” you sigh dejectedly. Leaning down, you rest your chin in your palm and observe the familiar that has begun to take in the store around him; he’s eyeing a display of novelty sweets you helped Yunah make (laced with playful, short-term spells, a bestseller amongst the students that run past after school), his eyes sparkling with interest— Taehyun is swift to place his foot in front of Dagonyang’s path, allowing himself to be dragged back to his owner’s side with a huff. You laugh at the sight, endlessly endeared. “Sometimes I forget he’s not just a cute kitty.”

Taehyun huffs. “He’s got abs, for christ’s sake. How could you possibly forget?”

You shrug. “He pulls them off well.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt you two,” Yunah starts, charging forward with a subtlety of a bulldozer that contradicts her statement, “but those flowers should probably get delivered soon. I’d hate for you to get in trouble for a late delivery again, Taehyun. They might get fed up and start sending someone else instead.”

“Who knows? Maybe they’ll take an interest to you too, ___,” Yunah teases; while you flush with embarrassment and tell her off, Taehyun stiffens at the image, rummaging through his bag for your payment and scooping up the bouquets into his arms— you’re brought back to the subject at hand as coins clatter on the counter, Taehyun’s eyes barely peeking over the flurry of tiger lilies that surrounds him.

“She has a point— about the deliveries.” his voice is muffled by the flowers, and you lean in closer to hear better. “I’d hate to be replaced, I quite like talking to you. Two.”

Yunah snorts.

“I’ll see you later— but if I don’t, complain that I was better. Maybe they’ll listen.”

“If it meant getting to see Dagonyang again, I’d start a riot, Mage Kang.”

It’s not exactly what he wants to hear, and you can tell. He shrugs.

”Good enough.”

Bidding Yunah goodbye, he spins on his heel and rushes out of your shop— he doesn’t need to look back to tell Dagonyang to actually follow.

The lingering echoes of the doorbell is the last reminder of their presence, the apothecary now silent save for the bubbling of Yunah’s cauldron; Sunday’s were always the most tranquil, and now that your only customer was gone, you were left to sigh and melt against the counter in boredom. Turning around, you decide to watch Yunah perfect her newest concoction. 

“How’s the order going?” you ask, watching her dig through the shelves of jars above her— when she spots her key ingredient at the top shelf, she sighs; with a swirl of her finger, the jar glows a lavender color and is slowly brought down into her awaiting hands. 

“Hasn’t exploded yet,” considering her recent streak of going on autopilot while potion making and adding the wrong ingredients, this was an impressive feat. “But your whole thing with Taehyun was distracting me. I almost added dragon’s breath into this.”

She looks up at you, brows raising as she gives you an intense look, “This whole place would’ve burned down if I did.”

“Wh— and how is that my fault?” you cross your arms, pouting at her accusations, “and what thing? It’s called banter.”

“More like flirting. You two have got it bad for each other,” she laughs to herself at the memory. “I’ve never seen a man get jealous over a cat.”

“C’mon, now you’re just making stuff up.”

Yunah sighs, long and hard. “Oh you poor, poor thing. Does it get tiring, deluding yourself like this?”

You roll your eyes— your denial only exasperates Yunah.

“I’ve never seen anyone be so into you. Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

“Like every other mage that comes here to mess with me, I’m sure,” Yunah immediately frowns, already knowing where you’re taking this. “They just think it’s fun to mess with humans to see our reactions and how far they can push us. There’s nothing more to it.”

“You know that’s not true.”

The ringing of your store’s bell is unexpected to both of you, whirling around to find a new customer. Yeonjun’s smile is bright and full of mischief as he nods to you two, his rowdy familiar bouncing behind him; they make their way towards you, though one seems much more preoccupied with making a mess out of the store— Hwangchoon’s clumsiness has your blood turning cold, watching with horror as he knocks off everything in sight. Stumbling forward, you try to dive for the falling jars he just swept off with his tail, lips parting in a silent scream— only for Yeonjun to beat you to it, his familiar, golden glow emitting from the jars as they all halt their fall and peacefully rise back onto the shelf— he even makes sure to adjust them so all the labels are showing.

“You’ll have to excuse him,” Yeonjun smiles, placing a hand on the small of your back to straighten you up, “he gets excited easily. More so when he visits his favorite places.”

Behind him, you watch Hwangchoon jump up to reach a bowl of crystals, tiny hands nudging it off the table instead of catching it— Yeonjun is swift to save its descent without having to look behind him. His smile widens at the pure disbelief on your face.

“Hwangchoon,” he calls out, guiding the two of you back to the counter— the said fox perks up, running back to his owner’s side in an instant. Yeonjun glances down at him, petting his head fondly. “Stay here. You’re gonna give this poor human a heart attack.”

Yeonjun doesn’t seem to care how his comment bristles you, looking past your frustrated face and scanning the wide display of herbs behind you instead. He lets out a thoughtful hum, and you let him decide for a moment in silence. Looking behind you, you manage to make eye contact with Yunah, who shakes her head and rolls her eyes at the man— it’s enough to crack a smile out of you.

“Quite the selection you’ve got this month,” Yeonjun muses, “Your garden must be coming along nicely. You’ve ought to show me one of these days.”

His eyes flicker down to yours, narrowing slyly, “I’d love to see what human tricks you’ve got up your sleeve.”

“And put myself out of business? You wish,” you scoff, choosing to ignore that last comment. 

“Smart girl,” he grins, and you think you hear Yunah scoff in disbelief behind you. “I’ll take my usual, please.”

Nodding, you turn around to collect the necessary jars— echinacea, turmeric, garlic, ginseng, and lavender. It’s a tedious process, filling your arms to the point that you’re slowly walking back to the counter, afraid that one might slip from your grip and shatter. Yeonjun stands back, amused as he watches you set everything down with a sigh of relief. He waits for you to begin to total everything to speak up again. 

“Oh, now that I think about it, I actually need three more things— I’ve been getting an influx of patients, you see. Supply is running out fast,” he laughs, even if you don’t seem to be as amused as him, and lists out the ingredients: rat tail, bone dust, and salamander eggs— all things on the highest shelf of the establishment, akin with the high ceiling and left out of easy access due to its value. You try to hold back a groan at his request. 

“Yunah, could you—” turning around, you find that Yunah has disappeared from her spot at the cauldon; your eyes dart around in search of her, only to realize that she’s headed to the back in search of something. With her gone, dread begins to buzz in your bones— your only ladder was splintered to dust in the crossfire of Yunah’s messed up potions, and the girl has promised through apologies that she’d get you a new one asap. But looking around now, you come to two horrible conclusions: no ladder, no help. 

“Something wrong?” Yeonjun asks behind you, startling you out of your daze and making the weight on your shoulder crash down harder. Looking over your shoulder, you send him an innocent smile. 

“No, nothing,” you say, trying to prove it as you approach the shelf and crane your neck back, the gears turning in your head as you try and think of a solution. 

Minutes pass and you’ve yet to do anything— Yunah has yet to come back too, much to your dismay. The silence is deafening, and you can hear your blood rushing in your ears with shame as Yeonjun undoubtedly pieces everything together behind you. The snicker he lets out is enough to prove your suspicions.

“Need any help?” Without warning, two hands take a firm hold of your waist, fingers digging into the fabric of your apron— your scream lodges itself in your throat as you’re hauled up and flying into the air, your legs kicking beneath you in protest; you go to slap off the hands that hold you, only to find nothing there. A reluctant look down shows that Yeonjun has levitated you with his magic. 

“What are you doing?!” is all you can bring yourself to yell, horrified as your dress begins to flow around you from your flailing legs— you’re quick to cross your legs and pull the skirt tightly against you, afraid of revealing anything to the man that’s now twenty-five feet beneath you. “Put me down!”

“We’ll be here all day if we stand around waiting for Yunah to come back,” Yeonjun sighs, “and you clearly can’t reach it yourself, so why not take the help?”

“I didn’t need your help!” That's a lie and you both know it, but your pride is taking too much of a hit for you to not defend yourself.

“Sure,” is all he says, watching as you continue to panic in this new position you’ve found yourself in— after another protest from you, he decides enough is enough. 

“Just hold onto these for me, will you?” the jars in front of you have begun to glow golden, and you blanch— rat tail. Bone dust. Salamander eggs. They all fly off the shelves and towards you, the magic ebbing off the moment they’re within arms reach; you dive at them in a panic, weaving through the air and hugging them close to your chest, whirling around to send Yeonjun a deadly glare once they’re all safe in your hold. You only get a joyful laugh in response. 

“Wow, you’re a natural— so graceful,” he grins, slowly bringing you back onto the ground, “One could almost mistake you for a royal aeronaut.”

You just about slam the jars against the counter, fed up with his teasing as you begin to package them and calculate the new price. “You’re not funny, Yeonjun.”

He laughs, reaching forward to boop your nose. “And you’re a wizard, ___.”

You hold back the urge to curse at him as you tell him the new total, counting the coins he places in your hand and getting confused when he hands you more than necessary; you go to give him the extra, but he shakes his head and nods down to his feet— leaning over the counter, you find Hwangchoon has gotten ahold of your novelty sweets, scarfing down the candy like he’s been starved all day. Yeonjun doesn’t seem to be as horrified as you are at the sight. 

“He’ll be okay,” Yeonjun winks, gathering the carefully wrapped parcel in his arms and bidding you goodbye— Hwangchoon begins to levitate beside him, coming into view with flailing limbs and panicked squeaks; Yeonjun pays him no mind, turning around and making his way out the shop. Your worries are put at ease as a golden aura engulfs Hwangchoon, the fox dragged behind the man like a balloon. You merely watch incredulously. 

It’s only after the two are out of sight that Yunah returns with an armful of supplies, even more trailing behind in the air; she’s meticulous as she sets the ingredients on her workbench, ordering them by sequence and spell— satisfied with her work, she smiles up at you proudly, only for it to fall as she notices the exhaustion on your face. 

“Tough customer,” is all you say, putting your head in your hands at the memory, “I just got levitated.”

You don’t expect for Yunah to act so quickly, storming over to the entrance muttering curses under her breath— you’re chasing after her hastily, pulling at her sleeve with a panic as she unsheaths the wand hidden in her boot. 

“It’s okay, really! Please don’t kill him!” you plead, though it doesn’t seem to reach her ears, “he’s long gone anyway— he was just trying to help!” 

“I don’t care what his intentions were! That fool needs to learn boundaries!” Yunah sneers, though she seizes her attempts to chase after him after you try to get on your knees to plead with her— she picks you up before you can, huffing in annoyance. “He thinks he can just treat you however he wants! We need to blacklist him.”

Her eyes light up like a lightbulb, and she’s returning back to her cauldron, flipping through her spell books with a sly smile. “Now that I think about it, we could probably place a border at the entrance to keep him out. He’d have to travel to a different kingdom to find another apothecary— though, none are as good as ours. The quality of his supplies would downgrade— wouldn’t be such a revered doctor anymore, huh?”

“Yunah, please,” you say exasperatedly, reaching over to shut her books— she lets out a whine, acting like a child scolded as you shake your head sternly. “It’s really not a big deal. I’m used to it. Don’t get put on probation over something so silly.”

Yunah is visibly biting back her tongue— she wants to refute, tell you that it’s not something silly, that no matter how much you pretend otherwise, you know how much such belittling actions bother you. But it’s a talk you’ve had more times than you can bother to keep track of, knowing that even if she sees you as a gift to the capital, no one else thinks the same; her rose tinted view of you can only span so far. 

Mulling over her words carefully, all that’s left for Yunah is to sulk at her desk, looking up at you with heartbroken puppy eyes. 

“I’m sorry. I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

You smile, patting her head fondly. “I know.”

Yunah watches you retreat to the back, mumbling on how you should go take care of your garden and finishing packaging your herbs— she recognizes that strong front you’ve put up, still humiliated by today’s events; she considers creating a creature to go torment Yeonjun, but she knows you’d be against it. Yunah is left wishing you weren’t so forgiving. 

When Taehyun returns just before closing shop, it’s clear he’s eager to see you, Dagonyang just as much. The two are dejected carbon copies of each other, with Dagonyang sniffing for your scent and Taehyun stalling by looking around the shop despite only coming for one thing— both quietly hope that if they linger long enough, you’ll return. 

“I don’t think she’s coming back up front. We close in less than an hour,” Yunah calls from her workbench, wiping down her freshly cleaned cauldron, “she’s a bit upset right now. Don’t tell her I said that.”

“Upset? Why?” Taehyun suddenly seems to have remembered what he’s here for, because he’s grabbing handfuls of tiger lilies and making his way to the counter in the blink of an eye. Dagonyang is quick to jump onto it, as though curious to hear why as well. 

“Well…” Yunah hesitates, unsure if she should be sharing this with them— but with the way they’re both leaning in eagerly, eyes wide and worried, she’d feel bad if she didn’t. “You see… there’s a lot of customers here that love to tease ___ for being human. She’s always said she doesn’t mind but… I don’t think that was ever the case. I guess today was just her breaking point.”

“How immature,” Taehyun’s face turns stern with anger, brows knitting together and his jaw clenching. “Who was it?”

“Doctor Choi Yeonjun; the one in the center of the capital, across from the library,” Yunah has no issues ratting out the man, just as annoyed as Taehyun about the whole situation. “I was going to send a trickster after him, maybe hand it a spell bomb to give him a nasty cold. But ___ is just too passive, she was ready to kneel and beg for me to leave him alone.”

“This is ridiculous. She shouldn’t have to deal with such treatments,” Taehyun grumbles, “and this happens often?”

“Everyday, basically. Some are more lighthearted than others,” Yunah sighs, beginning to wrap the bouquet, “She even thinks you’re in on it.”

“Me?” Taehyun sputters, offended by the thought, “Why would she think that?”

“I guess she can’t fathom someone possibly liking a human like her,”  Yunah quotes, watching Taehyun’s frown deepen, “especially someone in the royal court.”

Though Taehyun’s ears flush a deep scarlet, and the skin of his neck that peeks out from his uniform blushes a gentle pink, he doesn’t bother objecting to Yunah's claims— it’d be futile, and they both know it. He remains deep in thought instead, fishing through his bag for the payment, wishing nothing more than to see you and comfort you. 

“Don’t worry yourself sick now, I’m sure she’ll be okay,” Yunah reassures, handing the man the bouquets, “and whatever you do, don’t bring this up to her. She’d be mortified.”

Taehyun reluctantly agrees— when he bids Yunah a goodnight, he has to nudge Dagonyang off the counter in order for him to move; even then, the cat trudges reluctantly behind his owner, glancing back hopefully one last time before they leave— Yunah resists the urge to coo at the way the cat deflates with defeat, disappearing into the night behind his owner. 

 ○○○  

“Are you sure about this?” The question has slipped your mouth for the millionth time, bleeding from the morning to the early evening, lingering like a puppy at Yunah’s bedside as you hopelessly watch her pack. “Like totally, wholeheartedly, super sure? You don’t think this is a bad idea? ‘Cause I think this is a bad idea.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Yunah affirms, smoothing down her shirts before she folds them up into a tight, tiny square, “I’ve sent a notice to all our customers. Plus, I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t trust you.”

“You have too much faith in me,” you breathe out, anxiety prickling at you as you watch Yunah place her final clothing item into her suitcase, flicking her hand to make it shut and zip up— she places her hands on her hips, giving you a look as though to say seriously? It does nothing to deter your oncoming nervous breakdown. “Why can’t I just go with you? Or close up shop?”

“We’ve been through this, ___. It’s invite only, and we can’t afford to close up shop for two weeks. People move on fast here.”

“But,” you bite your lip, brows knitting together as you try to grasp at straws. When you come up empty, all you can do is sigh out the truth. “I can’t do this without you.”

“What are you talking about? Of course you can,” Yunah puts a firm hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze in reassurance. “You practically run it all on your own already. All I do is sit in the corner all day and make potions.”

”But that’s the driving force of this place,” you whine, and you continue before Yunah can tell you that’s absolutely not true, “people seek us out because of your skill.”

“Then I’m sure they’ll understand why I’m leaving,,” Yunah’s eyes dart to the grandfather clock in the corner of her room, hauling her suitcase off her bed and grabbing her coat— when she finds the luggage too heavy for her, she resorts to carrying it with her magic instead. “If this new spell gets approved, it’ll be a game changer for our business.”

Yunah explained this new spell of hers and the impact it would have on the community, but you’re not sure you understood— fireside talks of her ranting excitedly about the ingredients, how mentally taxing it was, and her brainstorming process were easy enough to follow; it was the purpose of the potion itself that you’d never be able to wrap your head around. 

“The fatigue that comes with using magic in such intense intervals can be extremely damaging to one’s health,” she practiced her speech on you, pacing around and using her businesswoman voice, powerful and fearless. “But with this spell, it could all change— endurance can be increased, as well as the mental capacity that allows the magic-user to intensify their spells and potions; this could revolutionize our powers, put endless possibilities on our achievements.”

Throughout your time knowing Yunah, you’ve been told on what it’s like to use magic, to have such abilities— the exhilaration, the strain on your psyche, the pride— you’ve been told how it feels, how addicting it is, left awake at night with dreams on what it’d be like to be like her; to be anything more than a simple, powerless human. 

But you’d never be like her. And as you bid her farewell at the train stop, holding her close and whispering for her to be safe, to write to you, the reality of it all crashes onto you harder than it ever has before— after all, how ridiculous is it for a human to single-handedly run a magical apothecary? 

“I’ll miss you,” you whisper, squeezing her tightly against you— Yunah does the same, patting the back of your head before she pulls away; her smile is fond as she stares at you, her train arriving and beginning to pile up with people.

“I’ll miss you more.”

You stay to watch her get on the train; stay to see her pull back the curtains in her cart, scanning the crowd and lighting up when she spots you, waving eagerly. You stay until the last boarding call has been announced, until the doors close and the train whistles and stirs awake. When it takes off, you do your best to follow her and wave, the joyful laugh she lets out not reciprocated by you as you’re forced to stay behind on the platform and watch her disappear into the horizon, off to carve a new path for herself, one you’ll never be able to follow.

Your journey home has never been more difficult; all the tricky places Yunah would usually help you with— floating platforms that required much more balance than you trusted yourself having, steep slopes that are meant to be sled down gracefully or climbed up with minimal effort— are now obstacles you find yourself pushing through, ignoring the amused stares and light laughter that follows you with every clumsy attempt, as though you were a spectacle on display. By your third encounter with floating platforms that lead to your way home, you’re just about ready to give up, standing before the obstacle course with disbelief; the sun has set long ago, and the streets have become desolate, yet you’re still here. 

“___, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Taehyun’s voice is unprecedented and makes you jump, a hot flush swirling to your cheeks as you turn to face him— the thought of him catching you at such a vulnerable moment is truly petrifying, but you try to play it off with a smile that he returns swiftly. “Are you coming back from dropping Yunah off?”

“Yeah— I am, actually. She told you?” 

He nods, approaching the platforms thoughtlessly— you follow him, just as thoughtless, in an attempt to continue the conversation. “I was notified that certain spells and potions would be unavailable for the next two weeks— and that you would run the place on your own while she was gone.”

“Oh, right,” you mutter sheepishly, already forgetting about the announcement she sent. The two of you stand before the platforms, and while Taehyun is ready to jump onto them without a second thought, you begin to shift nervously. 

“Do you…” Taehyun stops himself, watching your eyes dart away, ashamed. Reaching out for your hand, he smiles sweetly at you, nodding back to the platforms behind him. “Would you like to accompany me?”

Beneath the lanterns that hover in the sky and the lit path before you, you’re able to get a good look at Taehyun’s face for the first time— no shy, fleeted gazes or stolen glances, but a long, good look. His eyes, always so round and sparkling, are creased into crescents from his smile, plump lips pulled taut and causing your eyes to flicker over to a new discovery— his dimple that indents his cheek has you resisting the urge to reach out and poke it, always unaware of its existence until now. You’re entranced, placing your trust in him as you take a hold of his gloved hand; his fingers fall into place between yours, tightening and pulling you into him without a second thought.

He maneuvers you around without effort; your right hand in his, back to his chest as the two of you stand before the first platform, just a few feet away— his other hand falls onto your waist, a feather-like touch that has you straightening up nervously. You feel him hover just beside your head, letting out an airy chuckle that makes shivers run down your spine.

”Hold onto me,” he murmurs, feeling your hold on his hand tighten as the two of you walk forward— his hand on your hip begins to feel warm, a tingling sensation bleeding through your garments and straight to your skin, a soft aura beginning to emit from where he holds you; you try and catch the color that begins to bleed through the light, but it’s all wiped from your head the moment you step forward and begin to float. 

“Ah!” you squeak, slapping your left hand on top of Taehyun’s in a panic; his fingers spread open to let yours in, biting back a smile as you hold onto him desperately, trying your best to follow his movements across the platform, though struggling a bit due to your lingering fear. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you,” Taehyun’s words are soothing, the feeling of his breath against your skin enough to ground you, “just follow your instincts.”

Nodding, you try your best to follow his advice; your jumps defy gravity, lasting long enough that you’re walking on air and skipping platforms— it’s nothing like Yunah’s magic, simple and to the point, or Yeonjun’s, mischievous and exhilarating, but something different all together; it’s graceful, electrifying, making your body buzz with an unknown energy that excites you, letting out a soft laugh as your feet tap briefly on the stones, only to be sent back up again. The wind feels gentle against your skin, playing with your hair and the thick skirts of your dress, unfurling like a bird spreading its wings. When Taehyun peeks over your shoulder to gauge your reaction, he’s overjoyed to find a wide smile lighting up your face.

“Fun, isn’t it?” you’re halfway across at this point, and as you’re sent up into the air, Taehyun takes the chance to halt your descent, your brief hovering giving the man the leverage to use your right hand to spin you around to face him— the squeal you let out is nothing short of endearing to him, letting go of you to watch you fall back for just a second, only to catch you with an arm wrapped around your waist, his left hand now holding your right. “It’s always much better when you’re traveling with someone.”

Spinning you around once more, his arms are crossed around your waist as the two of you float onto the next stone, taking a few steps before Taehyun is lifting you up again, twirling you yet again to make you face him— a laugh bubbles out of you uncontrollably, a dizzying giddiness allowing you to become putty in his hold, letting him guide you to walk backwards, not an ounce of fear in your system as you place your complete trust in him. 

“I’ve never crossed Opal Bridge like this,” you joke, stomach flipping as you’re falling back to the next platform, Taehyun’s smile widening at your reaction, “it’s like we’re dancing!” 

“Maybe we are,” Taehyun’s hand leaves your waist to grab your hand instead, and the two of you switch places on the stone so that it becomes your turn to lead him backwards— with a running start, Taehyun is the first to jump back into the air, pulling you up to follow and tugging you into him so that you’re closer; you almost collide with his chest at his unexpected strength, letting out a nervous giggle that he absolutely soaks up. 

“Quite the interesting dance then,” your confidence boost is quick to dissolve as Taehyun’s magic ebbs away at the highest point of your levitation, the two of you free falling down to the next stone— a scream lodges itself in your throat, watching with horror as Taehyun remains unfazed even as the wind whips against his hair and uniform; without thinking, you embrace him, as though your sheer willpower could save the two of you from crashing down— through squinted eyes, you watch the scenery around you slow once more, a familiar warmth pulsing against the small of your back and between your shoulder blades. 

You pull back from Taehyun the moment your feet touch the ground, surprised to find an undeniable mischief sparkling in his eyes and pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

“That wasn’t funny!” you smack his shoulder, though the excess adrenaline that pulses through you leaves you vulnerable to his contagious smile, unable to help the laugh that slips past you. “You’re cruel, Mage Kang.”

His smile stiffens, and he’s lifting you up once more, only two stones left to go. “You don’t have to call me that, you know. Just Taehyun is fine.”

“Ah, sorry…” you hesitate, and everything pauses— you’re lingering in the air for a moment too long, and it isn’t until you’re meeting Taehyun’s sparkling eyes that you realize he’s expecting something. “Taehyun.”

The sound of his name coming from your mouth is enough to make him want to pull you close, hug you tight against him and soar into to the sky; you’re so sweet, shy as your eyes dart away from his, a shaky smile gracing your face as Taehyun unabashedly grins— you’re barely able to catch on to the playful glint in his eye before the two of you are falling back again, the uncontrollable scream you let out and the flipping of your stomach the closest thing Taehyun can do to make you understand how he’s feeling. 

“How dare you!” you shriek into the air, though it’s followed by a loud laugh as Taehyun saves the two of you yet again, floating the two of you back up delicately in a pseudo-apology; when you catch that stupid, triumphant smirk on his lips, you punch his chest petulantly. “You’re enjoying this too much!” 

“I am,” Taehyun immediately nods, shamelessly pulling you against him, sturdy hands pressing against your back to melt your bodies together— he buries his head into your neck and allows the two of you to remain where you are for a second; just you two, with no one to interrupt or entertain themselves at the spectacle. No facades to maintain, no words to be spoken, only the warmth of Taehyun’s magic against your fragile body, engulfing you entirely until you’re completely his. If you press yourself against him hard enough, you might catch the way his heart is just about to pound out of his chest.

In this tranquil sanctuary you’ve found yourselves in, you find yourself dreading the moment your feet will touch the ground again and force you two to part. A single thought graces your minds, a gentle plea to the stars that watch over you.

If only there were a spell to make this last forever.

 ○○○

The first few days of Yunah’s absence pass by without a hitch— at least, that’s what your positive mind is trying to convince you. It’s an arduous journey on her part, taking advantage of her four days on the train to write to you constantly; it feels like a new letter manifests on her workbench every few hours, filled with complaints on the stiff seats and haphazard sketches of the scenery— she tells you what she ate for breakfast, about the interesting people she’s befriended on the cart across from her, and screams about the man that snores obnoxiously at night. Remind me to create a spell that can mute your ears when I get back, please, she writes to you, and you shake your head in amusement before folding up the letter, determined to respond later as your shop bell twinkles gently.

Making your way back to the front of the shop, you can’t help the way your heart beats in anticipation— Taehyun always visited at this time, always choosing to finish his daily walk with a visit to your shop; sometimes to pick up something, other times to just check how you were doing. 

After your rendezvous at Opal Bridge, you could no longer ignore the charged air between you two— there was something forming, something neither of you were keen to acknowledge just yet; a fragile, sweet bud that urged to bloom into a proud flower, begged to be tended to. You knew it was only a matter of time before the situation became unignorable, but for now, you were satisfied with indulging in these visits he paid you, pretending as though he’d be just as eager to risk your friendship as you were.

Peering nervously over the doorway, you’re stopped in your tracks as you find someone else wandering around your shop; a slightly taller, lean figure, with a broad back and slim waist that’s adorned with a sword and dagger. His shaggy black hair that sweeps over his face elegantly hides his identity from you; his hands are covered with black leather gloves, and you watch him reach out to grab your freshly restocked tiger lilies, quietly observing the flower.

“Isn’t this the part where I’m welcomed to the store, miss?” the sudden address has you jumping, stuttering out a nervous laugh as you step out and make your way towards the counter— the man has yet to face you, but as you begin to take in his uniform better, your face begins to twist into a confused frown.

“Wait,” you start, eyes sweeping from his heavy duty boots to the dark navy of his uniform, recognizing the familiar crest on his shoulder— the man finally looks over his shoulder to meet your scrutinizing gaze, sending you a sly grin that has you scoffing in disbelief. “Beomgyu?”

“Geez, I was scared you’d already forgotten me,” Beomgyu sighs in faux relief, placing back the lily before making his way to where you stand, “your customer service skills are getting rusty.”

When Beomgyu first became part of the royal guard, he was a frequent visitor to your apothecary— a hardworking soldier in search of healing balms and potions to close up wounds instantly, always stopping late at night and making conversation with you and Yunah, detailing about his difficult trainings and listening to the two of you rant about your days; sometimes, he’d bring gifts from his trips to other kingdoms as a token of appreciation, jewelry and trinkets that you still have laying around your home in decoration. His dedication and skill was enough to have him climb up the ladder in no time, making it rare to see the head of the royal guard in your shop these days.

“When did you dye your hair? I could’ve sworn you were just blonde,” you ignore his jab, squinting at his hair that seems to absorb all the light around him, “it’s so dark.”

“Looks nice, doesn’t it?” he runs a hand through his hair, and you’re amazed at how it falls perfectly into place. “my soldiers were saying the blonde made me an easy target.”

“They’re not wrong,” you hum, amused at how immediately pouts at you, “what brings you here, anyway? It’s been a minute since you last came around.”

“If you must know, I’m here to pick up the parcel of potions Yunah left,” Beomgyu says, nodding towards the workbench in the corner where sure enough, a thick parcel awaits.

”Oh, those were for you?”

“For the queen, yes,” Beomgyu is quick to correct you, earning a roll of your eyes in return, “her due date is approaching, and she’s been having constant dizzy spells. Hopefully this can calm her down in the meantime.”

You pause for a second, your grip tightening on the heavy package in your hands; you’ve heard this story before, during one of Taehyun’s visits— about the potions the queen requested from Yunah, forced to wait for the concoction to ferment before being able to take them— and you frown, sure that he would be the one to come for the delivery. The question bites at your curiosity far too much, and you can’t hold yourself back from saying what’s on your mind as you go back to place the package on the counter.

“Did Taehyun get replaced?”

Beomgyu sends you a confused look. “Replaced from what?”

Embarrassment starts to lick at your face, avoiding his gaze as you pray for the heat to go away, trying your best to seem indifferent as you shrug. “He’s usually the one that picks up parcels for the queen.”

Beomgyu pauses for a second, observing your face to see if you’re serious. 

“No… Taehyun’s in a meeting with the advisory court today. He’s not a delivery boy— you are aware of that, right?”

“I obviously am!” you say indignantly, your sudden outburst bringing a knowing smile to Beomgyu’s face, “it’s easy to get used to routine, you can’t blame me for being curious.”

“Curious,” Beomgyu ponders, “or disappointed?”

 “Oh, hush.”

“You’re not denying it,” Beomgyu’s lips curl into a childish little smirk, like he’s holding back the urge to giggle, “don’t worry, you can just flirt with me in the meantime— don’t let your routine get disrupted.”

“God, you’re annoying,” you groan, pushing the parcel forward and closer to him, silently signaling him to go away— when he begins to dig into the bag attached to his belt for your coins, you look around the shop, just now realizing that he’s come in alone. “Where’s your other half?”

Beomgyu smiles fondly at your question. “Right at your feet.”

You’re bending down to inspect beneath the counter immediately, and sure enough, Bamgeut is curled up by your feet, fast asleep. The little bear-pup (it’s what you’ve resorted to calling them after questions about Bamgeut’s species were left unanswered) has never looked more comfortable on your hardwood floors, letting out soft snores that make you bite back the urge to pet them and stir them from their slumber. You remained crouched by Bamgeut’s side instead, watching with adoring eyes as the pup shifts onto its back, long lashes lazily fluttering open until their eyes lock with yours. 

“Hi Bam. Sleep well?” you coo, tucking your lips in to suppress a squeal as Bamgeut slowly rises to make their way to you, soft paws reaching out in a silent request to be carried— you oblige immediately, rising back into Beomgyu’s view cradling his familiar happily; his eyes widen at the sight.

“Wow,” Beomgyu huffs, watching Bamgeut rub the sleep from their eyes, tucking their head into your chest for warmth— your eyes squeeze shut at the cuteness. “I think Bam just found a new owner.”

“I‘ll happily accept,” you grin, running your fingers through Bamgeut’s fluffy hair, “a cute little thing like this has no business being the royal guard’s familiar; this baby was made to laze around, isn’t that right Bammie?”

Bamgeut has already fallen back asleep in your arms; you’re swooning at the sight, giving Beomgyu a pleading look that screams please let me keep them. 

“Absolutely not,” Beomgyu laughs, watching you deflate sadly, “I think you forget that these guys aren’t just here for decoration.”

“I know, I know,” You groan, giving up the cute creature in your hands as Beomgyu holds his arms out; He’s cradling Bamgeut like a baby, the bear-pup instantly recognizing his owner’s hold as they nuzzle into his neck with a content sigh.

”They’re not what they seem, they’re too much to handle, blah blah blah. Just say you hate me and go away,” you accept his payment dejectedly, pouting as he laughs at your misery.

”If it makes you feel better, you’re Bamgeut’s favorite human. That says a lot.”

“I don’t think that says anything at all actually,” you raise a brow, unimpressed. “Not a lot of options to pick from here.”

“Well I couldn’t say you’re their favorite person, because that would be me,” Beomgyu shrugs; looking down at the parcel, he lifts his palm up, a pink aura encasing the package and lifting it in the air— he gives you a wink as he takes his leave. “I had to make do with what I had.”

“Whatever,” crossing your arms, the wave goodbye Beomgyu gives you is left unreciprocated, only cracking a smile as Bamgeut peeks over his owner’s shoulder, mimicking his wave with its tiny paw. The sight has you melting immediately. “Bye-bye Bamgeut! I’ll miss you!”

Beomgyu’s sulky pout that he sends you through the window is swiftly ignored as you spin around and head back to respond to Yunah’s letter. 

 ○○○  

The next time you see Taehyun, he’s trying to hide his terrible mood from you.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” you’ve never been one to worm your way into other’s business, but Taehyun just brings it out of you, “I feel like there’s something bothering you.”

When he entered the shop with brisk steps and a cold look on his face, the warmth in your cheeks disappeared— you’ve never seen him act so cold, trying to mask the bubbling lava of anger that rushes through his veins; his voice was stern and careful as he spoke to you only from necessity, bypassing your usual attempts to joke and banter. As you ask him the question that nagged at your mind, you can’t help but worry that you’ve done something to anger him.

“Just problems at the palace,” he grits out, the mere mention enough to anger him all over again; he refuses to meet your concerned gaze. “Nothing you should worry about.”

”Ah, alright,” he’s far too intimidating like this, and as your exchange is cut short after a pixie appears to request his immediate presence at the palace, you can’t help but wonder if this is the side everyone else sees when he’s working.

“The East Kingdom of Flora is requesting your services,” the tiny voice alerts, its buzzing wings leaving a trail of dust as it circles around Taehyun— at the mention of the kingdom, you perk up; one of the few standing kingdoms ruled by humans. The world you should be in. But while your eyes widen with interest, Taehyun’s jaw clenches, sneering a low curse beneath his breath. 

“The East Kingdom of Flora is requesting your services,” it chirps again, a broken record that zips carelessly around Taehyun— he seems like he might just explode in annoyance. 

“I have to go.” Taehyun turns to you, entirely exasperated. Grabbing the fresh bouquet of tiger lilies and exchanging it for your payment, he rushes out and doesn’t bother acknowledging your meek goodbye; maybe because the pixie continued to chirp away in his ear all the way out. 

Though it seemed like an urgent request, you can’t help but pout at your brief exchange— more so at his coldness. It was an entire switch from the man that’s been lingering cutely at your store night after night, so you can’t help but worry about him, wondering what it could possibly be that’s got him on edge like this. 

Hours later, Beomgyu pays you another unexpected visit, Bamgeut hopping along happily; you smile at the little royal uniform they don, a clear attempt to match the owner that smiles at you brightly. 

“Bamgeut was begging for us to stop by today,” he says, the little bear-pup hopping up to wave at you; you laugh, leaning down against the counter to say return the greeting. Bamguet runs up to you with outstretched arms, and you cave in instantly as you pick them up and set them on the counter, petting its head while their legs dangle from the counter happily.

“Are you sure it was Bamgeut that wanted to stop by? You don’t need to lie, you know. You can admit that you missed me.”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes, unamused at your teasing. “Ha ha, very funny. Don’t make me start showing up without Bamgeut. I’ll actually do it.” 

Having known Beomgyu for long enough, you’re able to confirm that he absolutely would go through with that threat. You gulp. “Sorry.”

He smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

Today, he’s stopped by for a healing balm— he’s run out of his bulk supply, and due to Yunah’s absence, you haven’t been able to restock at much; you’re only able to sell him three, and he tells you about the recent wound he received while training his soldiers. 

“They learn fast. Too fast,” he says, tugging off his glove and folding up his tunic to show you the bandages along his forearm, gasping at the streak of red that bleeds through, “it’s how I got this.”

“Beomgyu, you really need to be more careful!” you scold, covering your mouth with disbelief the longer you look at it, “isn’t there a safer way to train? Something that won’t end with you hacking your arm off?!”

“I’m training them for battle, ___. In the most extreme cases, war,” his face darkens at the thought. “War isn’t safe.” 

“Don’t make me think about stuff, I might pass out.”

The concern in your trembling voice and your worried face is endearing to Beomgyu. In an attempt to distract you he asks, “well, then what do you wanna think about? I’m an open book.”

“Hmm…” you trail off, wondering how you could take advantage of this opportunity. “Oh! Why is the Kingdom of Flora here?”

Beomgyu’s brows furrow, and he seems to be genuinely taken aback by your question. “How do you know about that?”

“Oh. Uhm,” you become sheepish, wondering if you’re asking about a sensitive topic. “Taehyun stopped by earlier, and a pixie appeared alerting him that the kingdom was requesting his presence. I figured you might know something about it.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Well, why didn’t you ask Taehyun about it?”

You grow quiet. “He uh… he seemed pissed.”

At your meek confession, Beomgyu bursts into laughter, as though imagining it for himself— you can’t help but frown at the entertainment he finds from it, wondering what he might know.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“God, I bet he’s fuming,” Beomgyu giggles, wiping at the tears in his eyes, “he hates dealing with stuff like this.”

“Stuff like this?” you echo, “What are you talking about?”

Lost in his own amusement, Beomgyu doesn’t seem to pay any thought to the things he says. “Them, the representatives from Flora. He has no patience with them. Anything that drags him down is enough to make him lose his shit— he’s been assigned to escort them, so imagine the immense pain he’s in right now.”

Through the lighthearted insults and giggles, the reality of Beomgyu’s words start to crash onto you, like an overwhelming, sobering wave. The representatives from Flora. Humans. Them. 

“But as for their business here, no one’s exactly sure. No one except for the King and Queen, that is,” Beomgyu continues, though you’re not following along anymore, “It’s probably some personal affairs, maybe even discussions of a possible alliance; though, I’m not sure what we’d get from that.”

It feels like your head has been plunged underwater, the image of Taehyun flooding your vision; him, forced to escort the humans from Flora— him, forced to help the humans through tricky architecture just as he helped you; dragged down, impatient. In immense pain. 

“Beomgyu,” you interrupt his endless ramblings, staring down at the counter as you continue to pet Bamgeut absentmindedly; the creature has already curled up on the surface and fallen asleep. He hums in response, and you have to find the courage to continue; you avoid looking at his face in fear of seeing his reaction. “Would you ever fall in love with a human?”

Silence falls, just as you feared. You continue to pet Bamgeut as a distraction, the bear-pup leaning closer to the warmth of your touch.

”…Probably not.”

You press your lips together, trying to hide the hurt from your voice. “How come?”

“Well first of all, it’d be difficult to find one here in the capital. I have no idea how I found you,” he jokes, and you crack a small smile at that. “But… I don’t know. Humans… are so fragile; our differences may not be much on the outside, but our genetic make-up is entirely different—health, strength, capabilities— things get complicated like that.

“But, that doesn’t mean it’s impossible,” His words have an unprecedented softness to them, genuine in his answer as he continues, “I think, if it were love, I’d look past it all— I’d let them drag me down, I’d pick up after their messes happily. I’d take care of them no matter how fragile they were.”

His answer is sweet, though you find that an uncertainty still nags at you; you’re startled out of your spiral as you feel him pat your head, winking at you when you look up to meet his gaze. 

“Don’t be sad though, I still think you’re cute.” 

Shaking your head to get his hand off, you let out a low curse at his stupidity. 

“God, you’re insufferable. This isn’t about you!”

His smile widens, satisfied. “I know.”

Your goodbyes are much more gentle this time, placing a kiss on Bamgeut’s forehead to stir them from their slumber— Beomgyu chuckles at the action, joking that “you’re trying to bribe them to like you more than me.”

The small familiar that’s curled up in Beomgyu’s arms remains unaware of your rivalry. “Is it working?”

“In your dreams.”

You laugh at his resolve, knowing that Beomgyu would rather die than lose his precious familiar, even in a battle of affection— he was sentimental like that. And as you watch him leave, carding his fingers through his familiar’s fur, you find yourself wondering if Taehyun is sentimental like that, too. 

 ○○○

Six days into Yunah’s absence, something peculiar occurs. 

It stormed all day— heavy showers that threatened to flood the streets, harsh lightening that cracked in the sky and startled you throughout your garden tending; at some point, you almost snipped off the head of a perfectly healthy bloom, cursing under your breath and opting to put down your shears in fear of creating an accident. 

Your clientele is always few and far between when the weather gets like this. No one finds themselves that desperate to visit the apothecary, unless it’s for an urgent need; Yeonjun stopped early in the morning, when the sprinkling rain had yet to turn into a harsh downpour, only two others stopping by for the rest of your day. The sky was now pitch-black outside, and there was only forty minutes left before you closed up shop. A nagging thought in the back of your head told you it’d be better to just close down early, but you dismissed it. Maybe you should’ve listened.

The woman that enters your establishment is not one you recognize. She’s small in stature, a lithe figure that’s concealed by a cloak that’s been drenched through the storm and drips onto your floors. Your voice is soft and unsure as you greet her, observing the way she ignores your words and silently takes in the displays around her, the weighted hood covering the top half of her face; her ruby lips and pale skin are the only things that peek through, curling to a delicate smile as she faces you. 

“Hello darling,” her voice is that of a siren’s, lowering your defenses with its elegance. “Where’s your counterpart?”

“Counterpart?” you echo pausing for a moment to decipher what she might mean, “Yunah?”

She nods.

”She’s off to a conference to register a spell,” you watch her nod in understanding, “so I’m afraid that our usual spell and potion services are currently unavailable.”

Silence. The air around you seems colder than it did moments prior, though you think it’s your mind playing tricks on you, unnerved by the way you can feel her observing you carefully.

“But you’re here.”

“Oh, I’m— I can’t,” you say sheepishly; she tilts her head in confusion, silently asking you why. You flush, your voice barely above a whisper as you explain that, “I’m a human.”

The silence that lingers in the air is deafening, not even the sound of the rain crashing against the stone outside enough to soothe your nerves. You watch her ruby lips stretch widely, pearly teeth showcasing a blinding smile. Slender hands reach up to tug the hood off her head, and you watch carefully as the fabric pools at her shoulders and her identity is revealed. 

Despite the damaged her cloak took from the storm, she remains untouched; her hair is a brilliant midnight that shines blue beneath the light and cascades smoothly down her back, slim, angular face revealing striking features that render you speechless— her doe eyes are full of a sparkling purity, long, dark lashes brushing delicately against her silky skin with every curious blink. Her gaze is inviting as it locks with yours, and despite you thinking it impossible, her smile widens.

“I don’t see the problem with that.”

Her claim stuns you— so much so that you’re sputtering in confusion, unsure of what those words entail; you try to cement the fact that you’re just a human, with no magical inclinations, no abilities to cast spells, and no idea on how to brew potions. 

“Love, I only ask of you to help me with the most basic of potions,” she soothes, now standing before you at the counter, “something so simple, even a… powerless, human would be able to achieve it.”

“Well, then— you must pardon me, but,” you hesitate, finding her gaze much too intense, filled with such innocent hope you worry to disappoint her, “why seek out my help then?” 

Her eyes narrow, but her smile remains still; amused at your keen observations, she reaches out to take your hands in hers— they’re warm and soft, so gentle as she pulls your encased toward her chest, clasping them as she gives you a pleading look. 

“I’ve heard stories about this apothecary— the ingredients here are a magic of its own, leagues better than any other establishment’s,” she lets out a weak chuckle, “certainly better than what’s left in my cottage back home. I’ve travelled a long way to find this place, I beg you to help me. I cannot leave empty handed; there is life at stake.” 

Your lips press together in a fine line, brows knitting together as you become unsure of what to do; her eyes are glossy as they stare into your own, drawing you in and daring you to look away— you find that you can’t bring yourself to do so. There’s a desperation that swims in her dark irises, a silent plea that sings to you, your hands buzzing with warmth the longer they remain encased. Your lips loosen, and your voice acts on its own accord. 

“Okay,” you find yourself saying, “I’ll help you.”

Her eyes widen like saucers before she blinks and lets go of your hands, letting out a soft thank you and bowing her head in gratitude— you merely stand there awkwardly, unsure of why you decided to agree to this; a voice in the back of your mind nags that you should’ve told her to wait for Yunah’s return.

“I’ll treasure this for eternity,” she breathes out, peering up at you through her thick lashes with a small smile, “I owe you my life.”

“Oh no, it’s nothing, really,” you frantically say; worried that she may expect too much of you, you’re frantic to add: “I’m not too experienced with potion making, so I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

Undeterred, she shakes her head. “I’ll guide you.”

“Oh,” you softly say, “okay.”

Reaching into her cloak, the woman pulls out a worn out scroll, unrolling it on the counter; the two of you gather as she reads out the ingredients to you, along with the instructions— you’re surprised to find it composed of entirely mundane ingredients and no magic involved, just as she’d promised. When you ask her what the potion is for, she sends you a small smile, as though you were privy to a top secret. 

“For rejuvenation,” she simply says, not elaborating despite you hopelessly wishing she did.

The potion is made in Yunah’s cauldron in just a few minutes, nothing compared to the hours the witch spends slaving over her own creations. The woman is patient, watching and directing you on what to do and how to do it; when the concoction glows a soft pink, you gasp, and the woman smiles triumphantly. 

“Let’s see,” she hums softly, reaching out and stirring the potion with her index finger, ignoring your surprised gasp and meek warning that it wasn’t the best idea— she ignores you, stirring until a the liquid becomes a whirlwind, only retreating when the potion can continue to swirl on its own for a few seconds more. The liquid that drips from the tip of her finger is popped into her mouth, and you gape— she doesn’t seem to mind your reaction, brows knitting together in thought, taking a moment before addressing you. “Try it.”

“What?” you gawk, “I don’t… why? Is it safe?”

”Of course it is,” she says, “I need to know what you taste. Try it, there’s no harm.”

You hesitate, looking at the pink liquid that has now stilled, then up at the woman who smiles patiently at you. Nothing happened to her— she barely seemed to react at all. Your eyes lock with hers, and a silent reassurance is exchanged. Against your better judgement, you reach a shaky finger into the concoction and try it for yourself. 

The liquid is warm and smooth on your tongue— you try to search for a flavor, taking a moment to think it through, but come up short. 

“It tastes like nothing.”

“Then it must be left to ferment overnight,” crossing her arms, she sighs, staring at the concoction with a frown. “it won’t be ready until some flavor pulls through.”

“I’ll stay at a nearby inn and return tomorrow. You’ll receive your payment then,” she’s not giving you much room to agree or deny, her hands already pulling her hood back on, ready to disappear into the night once more— she gives you one last smile before she goes, unmistakable joy laced in her words as she tells you, “thank you.”

Her cloak whirls in the air as she turns to leave, her swift steps bringing you to a panic as you reach for your nearest piece of parchment and pen.

“Wait!” you call out, just as she’s opened the door, ready to slip through, “I never got your name. I’d like to write it down, so I remember who it’s reserved for.”

A pause. You wonder if this was a stupid thing to ask of her.

“Irene.” 

She doesn’t repeat it, much less spell it out to make sure you’ve written it correctly. The revelation is brief, and she disappears before you can say anything more— hastily, you scrawl it down before you can forget it, your messy handwriting an eyesore next to the delicate pink potion that ferments in Yunah’s cauldron. 

The urge to send Yunah a letter confessing your sins of making a potion without her here weighs down your heart, but you know she wouldn’t even receive it— her two day conference has begun, and her lack of contact has never felt more painful. You’re left to ascend to your home on the second story of your apothecary alone, tossing restlessly in your bed as you think back to the strange event. The image of the beautiful woman lingers on your mind, sure to reappear in your dreams as her name is left like a gentle whisper in your ear.

Irene. 

 ○○○  

There is a creaking sound coming from the apothecary. 

You dismiss it, at first, rolling over in your bed and pulling the covers closer to your body, trying your best to fall back asleep— but you hear it again, and the more you pay attention to it, the less you’re able to rule it off as the building settling. 

Another creak; the sound seems to travel around the area. In a daze, you sit up from your bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you strain your ears for the sound— when a soft tapping resounds, you kick your legs off your bed and stand, wondering if a stray has broken in to your store for shelter again; they always find a way. 

The more you approach the stairway that leads down the apothecary, the more you’re able to make out the sound of footsteps; they’re a light pitter patter, urging you to walk quietly in fear of startling it— when you arrive at the bottom of the stairs, you hear a soft meow. Your shoulders slump with relief. 

“Kitty,” you call out, spotting the feline standing in the middle of the store— at the sound of your voice, it walks away, attempting to hide beneath your counter. You approach it slowly, glancing out the window to find that it’s still storming. “Poor thing, you must be so cold.” 

The black cat is curled up in the corner beneath your counter, its head tucked away from your sight; carefully, you reach out to pet it, running your fingers down its back— the cat perks up at the sensation, turning its head to look at you, and you freeze. Staring back at you are two, brilliant pink orbs.

You’re startled by the sight, unable to react as an alarm begins to blare behind you— looking over your shoulder, you frown as a red light blinks back at you, situated just by Yunah’s cauldron. It takes a moment before you recognize what it’s there for.

The alarm for unauthorized potions. 

The soft fur beneath your skin begins to shift— the kitten before you begins to amalgamate, growing with violent cracks and snaps that have you falling back in shock, crawling backwards as your mouth falls open in horror. Its midnight fur has become a shapeless void, stubby paws shifting to pin-like legs— two, four, six; one after the other, they appear, hovering over you like a spider— its cute snout has disappeared, replaced instead with a maw that opens hungrily. It salivates, sharp rows of teeth grinning down at you; Your eyes dart up to meet its gaze, and it snarls at you. 

Instinct takes over as you roll to the side to avoid its jaw that shoots down to snap at you— scrambling to your feet, your legs tremble as its head cracks sharply to find you, determined to hunt you down; adrenaline prickles through your skin like needles, and it’s enough to make you turn on your heel and run for the exit. 

It’s too fast— as you weave through shelves and display tables, you hear a crawling sound, much too close to comfort; your hopes that the furniture scattered across the floor will serve as obstacles to hinder it are shattered as you look up, to where the sound is coming from: it’s crawling on the ceiling, and its eyes are fixed on you. 

You’re skidding to a halt as it leaps in front of you, blocking the entrance as it growls at you once more— when its jaws widen to try and take a bite from you, you reach out for any nearest object you can, using all your strength to throw jars and other heavy items you can find— one shatters on where you assume the head to be, and it flinches, only to shake off the glass shards, a spindly limb coming down to crush the table beside you; with a yelp, you turn around to find another way to escape. 

All the windows are locked, and the glass is protected with a spell that won’t allow it to shatter; there’s no exit on the second story, leaving the back exit that leads to your garden— with a heaving chest and tears in your eyes, you sprint to the back, the monster hot on your heels as it crushes the furniture you move in its way and the jars of ingredients you try to hit it with. 

Slipping through the employee entrance, you unlock the exit with clammy hands, trembling uncontrollably as you swing the door open— behind you, the creature rams through the wall, splinters flying at you as you run out and into the storm, through your carefully cultivated garden that it treads through with an intent to destroy. 

You’re barefoot, and it’s proving to be tricky to run out in such a muddy field—you can only hope that you’ll be able to reach the fence of the enclosure and try to find help; your heels dig into the mud and slow you down, but you don’t dare look back, gritting your teeth as you near the end of your garden.

Something wraps around your ankle— the thing has caught up to you, and you scream as it wraps its limb around your leg, pulling you back with a force that’s dragging you through the mud and back towards it; you try to flail around, digging your fingers into the soft soil, but it’s all useless. The creature has you trapped, flipping you onto your back as it hovers over you with a hunger swirling within its pink, beady eyes. Through the void of its body, the jaw widens, impossibly wide, encasing your upper body and salivating onto you through the sharp, stalagmite-like fangs. You’re left helpless, squeezing your eyes shut as you wait for it to sink its teeth into your flesh— but it never comes. 

Instead, you hear a soft humming sound; through tearful eyes, you peek— within the endless void of its mouth, something begins to glow. You think you may be seeing things, at first, squinting your eyes in confusion, only to be blinded by a light that encases you entirely; the creature remains there, hovering over you, trapping you within this light, and you wonder what kind of twisted fate has been left to you— then, you feel it.

A tugging sensation. Gentle, at first, so subtle you might think your mind is just playing tricks on you. Then it’s felt again, again and again until it’s undeniable and you feel yourself being pulled, gravitated to the light that showers you— but your physical body remains still. 

It’s trying to steal your soul, you realize, the tension in your muscles fading away, your heartbeat slowing until you feel your eyelids begin to weigh you down, your vision becoming a muddled haze, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. 

It’s a discomfort that goes on for far too long— you think part of you is trying to resist, but your consciousness is left at such a small sliver that you’re not entirely sure. Your body has gone limp, eyes stuck wide open as you stare into this blinding light, a burning sensation bringing more tears to your already crying eyes. 

The feeling comes to an abrupt halt— it all fades to black. 

Is this it? you find yourself thinking, is it over?

They say that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes— but that’s not what seems to be happening at all. You think you can still feel your body— though, it might be wishful thinking playing tricks on you. You can still hear things, though it’s faint; the splashing of rain that falls on the ground beside your ears, the thunder that crackles in the sky— a faint screeching, sounds of destruction, a panicked voice calling your name— and suddenly, you feel as though your body has been plunged into ice. 

A loud gasp rips through you, body jolting up as your lungs burn for oxygen— you begin to cough, and without realizing, your hands have begun to claw at your chest, nails digging into your skin and leaving scratches that pave way for blood to trickle out, running down your skin with the droplets of rain. 

It’s cold. So, so cold, your brain screams at you, head hung disorientedly as you begin to rock back and forth, skin tightening and prickling from the rain that has seeped through your clothes, leaving you a trembling, weeping mess. Are you still alive?

“___!” you think you recognize the prestigious uniform that falls into your weary line of sight, the hands that grab at your wrists to pry away your hands from your chest familiar. Yet even so, you can’t help the way you scream and thrash, wondering if this is the creature’s newest sick attempt to lower your guard, “___, please! It’s gone now, you’re okay!”

A strong hand gathers your wrists together and pins them to your lap, the other reaching out to cup your face, forcing your head back up. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to shake this hold off; they won’t budge. 

“___,” they plead, their voice breaking, “It’s Taehyun; please, look at me— please.”

His other hand reaches up, cradling your face in his hands as he quietly begs you to open your eyes; his thumbs caress along your cheekbones, and despite your racing mind telling you otherwise, you peek cautiously through your lashes. 

Everything is a big blur, and the night time doesn’t help at all. Your heaving chest begins to slow, leaving shaky breaths that continue to tremble your body— slowly, everything comes into view, and your eyes lock with a familiar pair of eyes. Dark, brown irises; normal, familiar, terrified. 

“You’re okay,” he breathes out, and his body physically reacts when you finally meet his gaze— without thinking, he’s pulling you close, against his firm frame that hides you away from the rest of the world. “You’re okay, you’re safe.” 

It seems as though the reassurances are for him just as much as they are for you; he holds you as though he never wants to let you go again, and his heartbeat pounds harshly against your ear; though you desperately want to, you can’t bring yourself to cry.

A moment passes where you’re both still, neither of you sure of what to say— then, you’re being pulled away, held by your shoulders as Taehyun stares you down with a stern gaze. 

“What happened?” he asks, scanning your face as though he could find the answer there, “why did the alarm to Yunah’s cauldron go off?”

“I— I don’t know,” your voice is hoarse, and you wonder why he didn’t ask you about the creature first, choosing to ask about the alarm instead. “The potion was just fine earlier, I don’t know what—”

“What potion?” Taehyun interrupts, his fingers beginning to dig into your skin— you wince, shaking your head as you try to remember, “Yunah didn’t leave anything in her cauldron.”

”She— she didn’t make it. I did,” his eyes widen with disbelief at your confession, jaw beginning to tick. “The woman, she begged me— I just wanted to help her.”

“Help?!” Taehyun repeats, as though saying it himself will help him understand, “you almost died!

“Whatever that thing was, it didn’t work!” you shake your head and try to explain yourself, but your fervent denial only angers Taehyun.

”You don’t understand,” you weakly let out, “it was working; she said I was capable of making it myself—”

“And you believed her?” Taehyun lets out a bewildered laugh, though it’s clear he finds no humor in the situation, “why in the world would it occur to you to do that? You’re a human!” 

You flinch at his hammered words, the aching of your body now a mere afterthought as you listen to his frustrations. 

“There’s not a single drop of magic in your blood. You need to accept that.” as much as you want to look away from Taehyun’s intense gaze, to push him away and go back inside, you can’t; you’re too weak to move even a single muscle. All you can do is sit there and get scolded like a child.

“This fantasy of yours almost cost you your soul— don’t you see how dangerous it is to try and force yourself somewhere you don’t belong?” he stresses, brows knitting together as he observes you carefully, wondering if anything he’s saying is getting through to you. You merely stare at him with shining eyes, willing yourself not to cry in front of him. 

“Don’t ever try to involve yourself in magic like this again.” He says firmly, “you’re lucky we were able to stop that thing when we did.”

At the word ‘we’, you finally find the strength to look away and just over his shoulder— sure enough, Dagonyang sits patiently behind Taehyun, staring up at you with wide eyes that are glaze with concern— your eyes widen as you take notice of his ear, split at the top and matting his fur with blood. You feel a lump in your throat, trying to hold back sobbed apologies— it’s probably the last thing Taehyun wants to hear right now.

“Don’t worry about him,” Taehyun swiftly says, having taken notice of your wandering gaze, “he’ll heal in no time.

“Can you stand?” you shift at his question, trying to get up— but you hiss the moment any pressure is put on your feet, and the two of you look down to find your ankle is swollen, an inky, ringed bruise forming right above the bone. 

”God, you’re all injured,” Taehyun grimaces, only now getting a good look at your appearance; worry tugs his features together as he takes in your soiled garments. “And dirty.”

“Come. You need to be tended to,” you can’t let out much of a protest when he’s sweeping you off your feet and picking you up, briskly walking back to your home. “and you can’t stay here. It’s a mess.”

Sure enough, you’re able to see just what he means as he passes through your once beloved home; it’s a wreck, with glass and herbs all over the floor, shattered furniture and the destroyed wall enough to make your stomach drop. All your hard work, your dreams, your passions— gone. 

You want to cry; you want to scream, to curl away in shame and hide yourself from the world forever, to kneel and beg for forgiveness until your throat is sore. You want the universe to swallow you whole, to go on without you, as though none of this ever happened, as though your existence never occurred.

You want to forget Taehyun’s disparaging words, to erase the degrading look in his eyes. You want to pretend as though all your fears weren’t only confirmed in the end, left with an insolent reminder that you’ll never be anything more than a mere human. 

 ○○○ 

“Raise your leg a bit more.” Taehyun’s hands are quick and nimble as they wrap gauze around your ankle, kneeling at your bedside as the two of you remain quiet— it’s the first thing he’s said to you all day. 

There’s an inappropriate sense of intimacy to this scene that you can’t help but be angered by. He has left his duties at the castle to take care of you, despite your persistent reluctance and refusal— but with your apothecary destroyed and your ankle still healing, you were given no other choice but to stay at Taehyun’s home until Yunah returned. It’s a small, quiet home, on the outskirts of the capital and away from the constant buzz and energy; it’s a change you’ve yet to get used to, but secretly welcome. You lean back on your hands as you avoid watching him, fingers digging into his comforter as you choose to stare out the window instead, at the chirping birds and wildlife that scampers around. 

The idea of staying in Taehyun’s home like this, donning his clothes and sleeping in his bed, was something that you only dreamed of during those secret, self-indulgent fantasies of yours— the kind where you lived a tranquil, domestic life, where nothing else mattered but the fact that you were together. The you of the past would positively keel over at seeing herself in such a position— yet, as Taehyun smooths down the bandages that compress your healing injury, a tension in the air so thick it forms a wall between you, you can’t help but wish you were anywhere but here. 

“Is it too tight?” His voice is barely above a murmur, and he doesn’t look up as he asks you the question, as though he were merely going through the motions and not asking about your comfort. You go to shake your head no before realizing he won’t see it. 

“No. It’s fine.” his thumbs run along your ankle, a gentle pressure that tries to linger— you pull your foot away and tuck yourself back into bed without another word, unwilling to do anything more than nestle yourself into the covers and hide away. Taehyun remains at your bedside for a minute, silence overtaking the room once again as he finally decides to take his leave.

“I’ve made lunch,” he offers, lingering at the doorway and watching you carefully; you don’t seem to acknowledge him, but he refuses to leave until he gets a response from you. 

“Thank you,” you finally say, “but I’m not hungry.”

You hear him leave with a frustrated sigh. 

Your time together continues on like this; you’re counting down the days until the apothecary is finished getting reconstructed and Yunah returns— her letters to you are endless now that she’s on the train back to the capital, having been notified by Taehyun of everything that happened the morning after; you were witness to her every emotion as she wrote to you— the fear, the guilt, and the relief that came with receiving her first response from you. When she asked to hear more details about that night, hoping to find an answer on why it all unfolded, you wrote as much as you could on the back of her letter, watching it recall back to its owner, curious on what the response from her would be; you told her of Irene and her reassurances that you could help, the ingredients, the mundane potion that brewed from it— but you’ve yet to get a response back. 

Instead of letting yourself get lost in her letters, Yunah’s abandoned you to this mess— days have passed, and you’ve yet to find the courage to talk to Taehyun again. Besides the quick, necessary communications shared, you try your best to avoid him all together. A strange anxiety fills your heart whenever you’re near him for too long, and you’ve resorted to hoping that you can run away from all this once Yunah returns. Maybe you can force her to handle his deliveries from now on. 

If only you could blame this strange dissonance of feelings on your tattered soul, still trying its best to heal from the trauma of that night. You’d like to think that, if you wait long enough, everything will smooth over, and you can go back to being that shy, hopeless romantic that became a puddle underneath Taehyun’s gaze.

It’s much better than this distance you’ve created now, anyway; you’ve grown fond of sitting out in the field behind Taehyun’s home as a way to avoid the tension that closes those four walls in on you, quietly taking in the grand landscape that stretches beyond— oftentimes, Dagonyang finds himself curled up in your lap, purring at your gentle hands that run through his fur. It’s become a ritual for you two, and if you look hard enough, you can even see the glowing lanterns of the capital. 

You can hear Taehyun call your name, already imagining the way he leans across the doorway, his arms crossed impatiently. You try your best to ignore him, his voice already making your heart rate spike— but he’s not having it, and when he calls your name once more, it’s stern; commanding. You jump at the sound, unable to help the way your mind is instantly flooded with memories of that night, where his nails bit at your skin and his eyes were filled with nothing but the deepest disappointment. You’ve stopped petting Dagonyang, and the cat has already jumped off your lap and started pattering off inside, leaving you alone on the field. A moment passes, and you slowly get up to avoid hearing Taehyun harshly call your name yet again.  

“It’s cold out, you should come in,” his voice has softened considerately, yet you still can’t find it in you to look at him— the sun has set and the night air nips at your skin, but you had no plans of going in anytime soon. He moves aside so you can step in. “I’ve made dinner.”

“Thank you.” you don’t catch it, but Taehyun frowns at your apathetic tone. He follows you inside, watching the way you trudge to the dinner table. 

His eyes are boring holes into your skin. You’re stuck looking at your plate, trying to keep up the act that you don’t feel his intense gaze burning into you, watching your every move. It’s quiet, as it has been for the past three days, and how it will be for the next three. 

A part of you can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking right now— what he thinks of you. You wonder if his viewpoint on you has changed entirely since that night, having put him through such a terrible battle, which was only followed by sleepless nights of investigations on what happened; he’s yet to update you on what he’s found, leading you to believe that every direction he’s taken has been met with dead ends. Even now, Beomgyu’s words float around your mind like a persistent parasite; you’ve caused him enough trouble to stress him out for a lifetime— he’s stuck cleaning up your messes, stuck with you while he oversees your recovery. A simple human interrupting his busy life, dragging him down. You fear that if you look at him, you’ll find nothing but resentment in his eyes— you don’t think you could handle that discovery. 

It’s quiet as you both separate, going off to his bedroom while he goes off to his study where he’s been staying, much to your reluctance. While you nestle into the covers, attempting to fall asleep, you can hear the familiar sound of Taehyun humming in the room beside yours, undoubtedly spending yet another sleepless night on your case. It’s become something you secretly listen for, soothing your brain into a restless sleep, free of the nightmares that invaded your mind the first night you stayed in his room. With a heavy sigh, you allow yourself to rest, Taehyun’s song a lullaby that protects your fragile mind.

 ○○○   

Tomorrow marks the final day of your stay with Taehyun; you’ve finally recieved a letter from Yunah.

I’m sorry I took so long to respond, she writes to you, her writing messy and rushed; the parchment is a bit wrinkled in your hands, and your heart sinks as you continue to read. But I took everything you told me about and sent it to Taehyun— I had a hunch of what might’ve transpired from that night, and I had to make sure it was true before I sent you this. ___, please know that I’d only ask this of you if I were completely serious. 

Your heart stops as you read the next line, eyes glued to the parchment as though to make sure it weren’t misreading it— no matter how much you stare at it, the request stays the same. I think you need to move to the kingdom of Flora.

It’s much safer for you there— I know how much you must hate reading this, but please, think about it. That woman, Irene— a necromancer— shouldn’t have been able to get her hands on you like that; she took advantage of you, and I can’t forgive myself for putting you in such a vulnerable state— Taehyun is still trying to figure out how she was able to breach the kingdom after being banished for so long. 

I can’t risk her finding you again— you’d be able to live a quiet life there, tend to your garden, and I’d visit every day. You’re much better off there, you’d belong there perfectly; you wouldn’t have to deal with stupid architecture anymore, either. I’ve told Taehyun about the plan, and he’s found a place for you to stay in. Just say the word and he’ll take you. 

The paper is beginning to crumble in your hands, your grip tightening as you continue to read. You can’t believe this. 

I’m so sorry ___. You must hate me right now. But I can’t risk this happening to you again— I don’t think I’d be able to live with myself. Please, accept this offer; I’ll visit you the moment I’m off this stupid train. 

I love you,

Yunah

You know she expects to hear back from you soon; her handwriting is so small, and she’s left the entirety of the back for you to write on. Instead, you simply stare at the letter, reading and reading and reading it again until you have the whole thing memorized, until you’ve confirmed that you didn’t misunderstand a single sentence. The paper flutters in your hands from the wind— what you thought would be a peaceful reading outside has quickly turned into a torment, Dagonyang’s peacefully sleeping figure beside you nothing more than a mockery. 

Certain sentences stick out in your brain, your eyes instinctively flickering to them, etching them into your aching heart; one in particular seems to blare at you: you’d belong there perfectly.  

Belong there, you scoff, a bewildered laugh escaping you as you read it again— you feel your fingertips buzz from where you hold the letter, a sharp electricity shooting through your nervous system as you read it yet again, irked by her words. It builds and buzzes inside you until you’re a trembling mess, unsure of what to do with this anger that bubbles up like lava; your eyes are inevitably drawn to a different sentence, your new breaking point: I’ve told Taehyun about the plan. Just say the word and he’ll take you.

God, you’re trembling with anger— he’s just going to send you away? Just like that? Do you really have a say in this, when everyone wants you gone so desperately? Your nails dig into the parchment, pushing and pushing until they break through— the hot, bubbling anger that simmered under your skin erupts, and before you can give it a second thought, you’re ripping the parchment to shreds, tearing it until it’s nothing more than fragments that are carried off by the wind. You watch them flutter off, curling up in defeat as you will yourself not to cry.

All these years spent with Yunah, proving yourself and succeeding together, were they just a lie? Was any of it real when Yunah, the woman who swore up and down that she’d never put much importance on your differences, was convinced you belonged somewhere other than the place you built your entire life in?

The sun has set, and Dagonyang has left your side after the chill of night emerged— but you remain the same, attempting to wrap your head around the news you’ve read, of the things that are expected of you.

Taehyun has come out in search of you again. The sound of his voice is nothing but salt in your wound, a reminder that tomorrow, you’re expected to leave the city and never turn back. He calls out your name multiple times, but you’ve yet to budge— by the fourth time, he sighs and makes his way over to you. 

“___ please, won’t you stop sulking and come inside—?” Taehyun’s voice is caught in his throat as you finally look up, and at him. Pupils locking firmly with his, your eyes wide and glassy, an intense stare that dares him to look away.

“Did you and Yunah have fun? Stringing me along like this?” you say, standing up and glaring at Taehyun; he frowns, opening his mouth to say something, but is left speechless. “Making me believe that I’d ever belong in a place like this, when in reality, you were no better than everyone else here that saw me as a little pet!” 

“What?” he breathes out, “What are you talking about?”

“Yunah told me everything!” you shout, feeling emotions catching in your throat, stinging your eyes, “Irene, the plan— you expect me to pack up my life and hide myself away just so you can feel better?”

Taehyun seems to have caught on to what you mean. “___, you need to understand where we’re coming from—”

“Why? I’m a person too!”  it’s all become too much for you, and you’ve begun to choke up on your words— it’s too much, confronting Taehyun like this, even more so when it feels like he’s not listening. “I can’t just give everything up because you guys don’t want to deal with me!”

He flinches at your words, and you find confusion starting to overtake his face, his voice nothing more than a murmur. “What? 

You scoff at his confusion. “Please, don’t try to act innocent— I get it, I really do— I put you in this crazy mess; I’ve dragged you down enough, and I know you want nothing more than for me to go away, but honest to god, I’m not asking you to look after me like this!” 

Tears have begun to well up in your eyes— you feel humiliated, leaving yourself vulnerable like this, but you can’t seem to stop talking; every little thought that’s nagged you in the back of your mind is now coming out like word vomit, and you can’t seem to stop it. 

“If this weak, foolish human wants to stay in this big, scary, magical kingdom, then just let me!” you cry out, ignoring the way he shakes his head at your words, “let me get messed with, let me make mistakes, let me get tricked— and if it doesn’t end well, then so be it!

“But I will not sit around and let you make decisions for me— I am not going to Flora because it’s where you think I belong,” you’re practically shaking with anger at the thought, gritting your teeth at Taehyun, “I refuse to.”

“It’s not that easy,” Taehyun starts, shaking his head at your naivety, “we can’t risk Irene coming back just because you want to stay here—”

“Were you even listening to me?!” you’re exasperated, feeling a tear slip down your cheek. “you want to get rid of me that bad? What, are you gonna tell me this was all your idea next—?”

“You think I want to abandon you?!” It’s the first time he’s raised his voice at you like this since that night, and you can’t help the way you flinch at the sound— he hesitates to continue at the sight. “You think I’m happy with all of this? Do you really think it was my idea to send you off like this, away from me?”

Your face falls at his words.

”Yunah was mortified when I told her what happened. She couldn’t stop blaming herself for it,” Taehyun runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “She was set on the fact that you needed to be relocated— that Irene would come back for you if you stayed.”

His eyes flicker away from yours, but even so, you still catch the way they shine under the moonlight; his voice wavers as he speaks. 

“That night… it haunts me.” he looks back at you, brows knitting together at the thought, “I almost lost you. To this day, I still haven’t the slightest clue on how I was able to destroy that— that thing.”

“I’d rather die than get rid of you,” his voice has dropped significantly, and there’s an edge that makes it tremble slightly— an emotion that fights to break free, nearing you as he speaks, “you’re not a burden. I don’t care that you’re human— I’d look after you no matter what you were. I’d pick up all of your messes, I’d get involved in every disaster you caused. I’d happily let you drag me down, if it meant being with you.”

“I just can’t afford to lose you,” he says weakly; he’s just a step away from you now, his face so close you can analyze the look in his eyes, count every eyelash that brushes against his skin with every blink, “and if it meant letting you go to keep you safe… I’d do that, too.”

It’s quiet. The breeze continues to whistle between the branches of the trees around you, The wildlife that’s hidden within the forest now sound asleep. The stars are out tonight, as is the moon— it casts a soft glow onto the man before you, his sparkling eyes looking at you with something so intense, it makes your knees week. He’s so close, you think that if you leaned in a little, you could…

”Taehyun,” you breathe out; his eyes flash with desperation at the sound of his name falling from your lips. “I don’t want to leave.”

He gulps.

”Then don’t.” 

Time seems to still the moment the words come out his mouth, the two of you stuck where you are— hesitant, afraid to go on with what you both desperately want. His eyes flicker down to your lips; his hands twitch at his sides. He watches as you slowly reach out, cupping a gentle hand around his face, fingertips caressing the strong jawline, the soft curve of his cheekbones, the dimple that indents his cheek as he presses his lips together and swallows. He lets you bring him closer to you, leaning until your other hand is able to land on his nape, tangling with his dark hair— he lets you come closer, feeling your breath mix with his, seeing your eyes flutter shut, your lips slightly trembling as they part; his heart is on the verge of combusting as he feels your lips press gently against his. 

It’s a quick, soft peck— you’re pulling away immediately, wide eyes looking at Taehyun as though you’ve done something wrong; he’s quick to show you you’ve done anything but, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you back in, showing you just how much he reciprocates this. 

Taehyun kisses you with a primal hunger that makes your legs weak, sighing softly against his lips, sharp canines playfully biting at your flesh to hear the way you gasp, pulling lightly at his hair in response. His hand smooths up your back, going back down and pulling you even closer, until your bodies are flush together and you’re grabbing onto him for support— his other hand has found itself on the back of your head, keeping you close, unable to run from his starved kiss. 

You try desperately to ignore the burning of your lungs, but you’re getting lightheaded— gently, you go to move away from Taehyun, the man immediately pulling away to gauge your reaction; when he finds nothing but dazed, lovestruck eyes looking back at him, your hand that rests on his shoulder gripping onto him a little tighter, he lets out an airy laugh. 

“Tell me to stop,” the look in his eyes is slowly darkening, losing that innocent shine to make way for something more— something desperate. His hand on your back has begun to wander dangerously low, hovering at the small of your back and threatening to go lower— his eyes flicker down to your shining, swollen lips, ready to dive back in, but he holds himself back. “Tell me to end it here, and I’ll listen.”

You can hear the restraint in his voice, a warning of what may come— but even then, you shake your head; his eyes darken at the sight. Your voice is a breathy whisper that makes him shiver. “I don’t want you to stop. Don’t hold back.”

He curses under his breath before he’s diving back in, returning with a fervor that makes your mind spin. He’s rougher, needier, eating you up and indulging in every little thing you give him— your gasps, your whines, your fingers that dig into his skin and pull at his hair— it all fuels him even more, finally able to release the frustration that’s been pent up for a long time. 

“I need you,” he murmurs against your mouth, reaching down to grab your ass, pressing you firmly against him— you gasp, feeling him already hardening, and he takes that opportunity to explore every inch of you; he groans softly, rolling his hips forward. “I need you so bad.”

“You have me,” you say, breathless— he lets out a small moan at your words, pressing himself harshly against you, whining at a particularly firm thrust that allows you to take in the outline of his cock, “take me.”

“Fuck,” he curses lowly, and before you can understand what’s happening, he’s picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist, strong arms holding you up as he leans back in to kiss you— he brings the two of you inside, letting out a soft groan at the way you tangle your hands in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

It doesn’t take long before he’s kicking his bedroom door shut and laying you down on the bed— it’s only then that he’s able to part from you, holding himself up as he takes you in properly, watching as you whine and try to tug him back down; he chuckles, caving in instantly before he’s guiding you up on the bed, letting your head fall back on his pillows and making sure you’re comfortable. 

”God, you’re so beautiful,” he finds himself sighing out, sitting back on his knees as he takes a good look at you— you squirm under the intensity of his gaze, his hands running up and down your sides absentmindedly, feeling your warm skin heat up against his. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this for so long,” Taehyun seems to be talking more to himself at this point, lost in your trance as you begin to guide him to take your undress you, his eyes never straying from your body as he looks at you in pure awe— you shiver at the groan he lets out when your bra is finally thrown to the side, his lips immediately coming down to press a kiss right on your chest, giving you another before he’s wandering down and latching his lips around your nipple; your back arches at the warmth of his mouth, a quiet mewl escaping you.

His hands have begun to venture down to your hips, playing with the waistband of your pants and tugging it so he can slip a hand inside. Your fingers card through his hair absentmindedly, pulling at it desperately the moment his fingers begin to press at your cunt over your soaked panties, fingertips running up and down your slit to feel the way you begin to moan breathlessly, hips bucking against his hand in search of more— but he’s a tease, going up to gently circle your clit, a ghost touch that shoots sparks straight to your core and empties your mind. 

“Please— don’t tease,” you breathe out, head falling back as he presses two fingers against your clenching hole through your panties, chuckling at the way you try to suck him in, desperate to feel yourself stretched out— the feeling is disappearing just as quick as it came, and his hand is leaving your cunt to grab your hips, holding you in place as he slots himself between your legs.

”Can’t help myself,” he murmurs against your lips forcing your hips to angle up so he can grind down against you; he’s savoring the feeling, smiling against your mouth as he presses his cock firmly against your entrance, your hands anchoring on his shoulders as you whimper weakly, “you just make the prettiest noises.”

“Wanna hear you like this all night,” he’s picked up a rhythm as he grinds against you, rough hands holding you from bucking your hips back— all you can do is lie there and take it, pleasure tumbling from your mouth as his lips begin to wander to your jawline, trailing gentle kisses that travel to your neck; nipping at it playfully, he holds back a laugh at the way you jolt against him. “Think you can take it?”

“I can. I can take it,” you rush to say, arching back making your chest press against his, hands tugging at the hem of his shirt as you silently beg him to take it off, “I don’t want you to hold back.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, finally breaking away to give in to your demands— you lie back in awe as he finally pulls his shirt over his head, eyes glued to the muscles he’s been hiding away from you, desperate to commit it all to your memory; reaching out, you run your hands down his body, down his shoulders to his firm chest, down the abs on his stomach that flinch at your nails that scratch at his skin, until you’ve reached the waistband of his pants, tugging at it in hopes that he’ll give in to your desperation and just give you what you need— instead, he takes your hands in his, tutting softly at you before he’s putting them above your head. 

“Taehyun, c’mon,” you whine, trying to tug your hands out of his grip; it tightens in response, your voice wavering as he looks up at you, raising a brow in warning; even then, you refuse to give up on your complaints.

”You’re taking too long,” you tease, bucking your hips up desperately, “are you gonna do anything?”

Without warning, you begin to feel a warm sensation on your wrists, a slight tingling that makes you look up at your bound hands— you find a silver glow where Taehyun’s hands hold onto yours, eyes widening as you watch him let go of your hands now bound by his magic. Your head snaps down to send Taehyun a petulant glare. 

“Oh, you’re mean.” 

“You started it,” he chirps, using his newfound mobility to run his hands down your sides, until he’s gripping your hips and stripping you down to nothing more than your soaked panties; your face heats up at the vulnerability of the situation, trying to hide your face in your arms as you watch him settle down on his stomach between your legs— you try to squeeze your thighs together shyly, and Taehyun tsks; a pathetic yelp leaves you as he spanks your thigh.

“Taehyun,” you whine, starting to feel that familiar warmth circling around your thighs, an invisible force that makes you part your legs, left completely vulnerable to the man who’s now situating your legs over his shoulders, held still by his magic, “this is so unfair!” 

“You got yourself into this mess, baby,” he scolds you, kissing your inner knee, going up until he’s at the apex of your thigh, smiling at the way they shake, “y’gotta learn how to be patient.”

His words are enough to make you nervous, squirming in his grip as he slowly slides down your panties, indulging in the wet slick that sticks to the fabric, eagerly shifting closer to your center. 

He places a kiss on your mound first; you want to squeeze your eyes shut and complain, aware of this game he wants to play. But you bite your tongue, looking down curiously to catch the way he looks up at you through his lashes, smiling when you make eye contact before moving down just a bit more and placing a gentle kiss on your clit— you feel the breathiness of his laugh when you jolt at the sensation, plush lips warm against your swollen, needy clit. He takes his sweet time before doing anything more— warm hands running up and down your thighs lovingly, watching you get more desperate as the seconds go by, chest heaving and slick dripping from your entrance pathetically.

He presses another kiss to your clit; then another, and another, until he finally parts his lips to suck the pearl into his mouth, running his tongue along it and closing his eyes in bliss, listening keenly for the broken moans of his name you let out. His tongue lolls out to firmly lick at your clit, circling around it before trailing down, running along your folds and licking up the arousal that had been dribbling down to the bedsheets eagerly, feeling the way you try to squirm and break free from the binds that keep you spread open for him.

“Tyunnie, please— stop being mean,” you cry at some point, feeling as though you’re going insane with the way his tongue is buried deep inside you, face pressed against your cunt and eyes closed in pure bliss, nose brushing against your clit as he continues to eat you out; you try to struggle against the binds on your wrists, but they won’t budge. “please, I wanna touch you.”

When he finally pulls away, it’s only to send you a mean grin. “You gotta be patient,” he reminds you, leaning down to lick a firm strip from your entrance to your clit, feeling the way you shudder against him, “let me have my fun first, okay?”

You go to curse at him under your breath, but it all falls short the moment you feel his fingertips begin to circle your entrance, collecting the arousal that leaks through your hole before slowly pushing in his ring and middle finger in. Your eyes flutter shut, the knot in your stomach only tightening at the stretch, lithe fingers slowly pushing in until it hits the knuckle, dedicated mouth not stopping its ministrations on your clit all the while. When he can no longer push in, he curls his fingers curiously, picking up gentle pace and pressing against your warm walls until he hears your breath stutter, your thighs jolting when he hits a particular spot; you feel a breathy laugh against your clit, and he proceeds to hit that sensitive spot until you’re a shaking, pleading mess.

”Taehyun,” you whine, nails digging into the palm of your hands as the pleasure begins to dizzy you, “T— Taehyun, tyun, I can’t— feels so good, please don’t stop, please.”

Your muscles are beginning to tense, chest heaving as you feel the fire in your stomach growing hotter, mouth falling open as he continues to suck on your clit, thrusting his fingers into you a little faster. until you’re squeezing your eyes shut and bucking your hips against his mouth, crying out his name with broken pleas to cum.

It comes crashes down so suddenly— a shiver wracks through you and you can only choke out a soft call of Taehyun’s name as your orgasm rips through you, cunt fluttering around his fingers that continue to curl and thrust into you, his tongue wandering from your throbbing clit to your entrance as he licks up all the arousal that spills around his fingers, groaning softly at the tight squeeze and the taste of your cum on his mouth; he’s addicted, helping you ride it out until your body becomes sensitive, bleary eyes peeking down to see that he has yet to stop, and doesn’t plan to any time soon. 

“Tyun,” you breathe out; the man merely glances up at you before returning back to your cunt, feeling your cunt clench as he curls his fingers against you once more, smiling at the yelp that follows, “Tyun, it’s too much, I’m sensitive—!” 

“Want you to give me another one,” he murmurs against you, his fingers stiling inside you as he says it; he finally looks up at you, and you find a primal need in his eyes, his hand that’s holding your thigh gripping you a little harder, as though afraid you would run away, “can you do that for me?”

You take a second to catch your breath, his eyes following the rise and fall of your chest as though in a trance; he leans down to place kisses along your skin yet again, against your navel and around your pelvic bone as he lets you take a moment to answer; he nips softly at your hip bone, and you feel your resolve crumble in an instant. 

“Yes,” the word is barely slipping from your tongue before Taehyun is diving back in, moving with such desperation that all you can do is lay back and watch in awe. He’s taken note of what drives you crazy, eager to use it against you; your teeth are sinking into your bottom lip to prevent yourself from screaming as he hits your sweet spot continuously, sucking your clit and running his tongue along it until he’s building you up even faster than he did before, an undeniably triumphant smile tugging at his lips the moment you start sobbing that you’re going to cum again. 

You’re desperate to thrash around under him, to clamp your legs around his head and run your fingers through his hair, but all you can do is lay there and buck your hips against his mouth, teary eyes unable to look away from the sight before you, pleasure crashing down on you and leaving your body a trembling, buzzing mess. 

“There you go pretty girl, y’listen so well,” he coos against you, helping you ride out the waves of your orgasm with a gentle pace of his fingers, kissing your clit lovingly between his praises. “Sound so good, just. For. Me.” 

The rings that bound your wrists and thighs are buzzing for a moment before it all fades away; you only let your muscles relax for a second before you’re immediately reaching down to run your fingers through Taehyun’s hair, lacing through the dark locks before tugging and guiding him back up— he lets you, an amused chuckle leaving his lips as he crawls over you, situating himself between your legs that still twitch with aftershocks, his arms by your head that hold him up caging you in. He takes a moment to observe you, eyes warm with an undeniable fondness as he takes in your shiny eyes and swollen lips, glancing down at your chest that heaves as you try to catch your breath. Reaching to cup your face, he runs his thumb along your cheekbone before leaning down to capture your lips in a soft, slow kiss.

“This is better than anything I imagined,” he confesses quietly, and you don’t bother holding back the smile that breaks out against his mouth.

“You imagined this?”

“So many times,” he immediately breathes out, tilting his head to kiss you deeper before pulling away briefly, letting go of your face to tug at his remaining clothes, “thought of having you under me like this so many times, making you feel good like this.”

You hum softly at his words, running your fingers through his hair and pulling gently at the roots, tangling comfortably around his nape.

”Thought about making you mine,” he whispers softly, and for the first time, you spot a bit of hesitance in his voice— a vulnerability that doesn’t slip past you, picking it up between his kisses that begin to linger along your face, from your cupid's bow to your jawline; his breath stutters, and you gasp— his cockhead is thick and sticky with precum as it presses against your entrance, his hand that wraps around the length taking its time to rub up and down your slit, lingering and pressing down at your clit teasingly. The mixture of your arousals is loud, and if the feeling of his cock sliding up and down your awaiting cunt wasn’t driving you crazy, you would’ve hid your face in your hands from embarrassment. 

“I’ve imagined so many times how you’d feel… how you’d sound so pretty,” he moans softly, the reminder making his hips buck unexpectedly against you, the two of you gasping as his tip prods at your hole for just a second, “Thought of keeping you here with me. Of being all yours.”

He hears the way you whimper quietly at that last part, feels your thighs press against his hips, antsy hands pulling at his hair as a quiet plea for more— he’s driving you crazy, and his sweet words against your skin are definitely not helping.

“I want that— I want to stay with you,” you’re guiding Taehyun to look up at you again, watching his dazed eyes lock onto yours, drowning with a primal need that burns hotter the longer he looks at you. Your hand wanders from his hair and down the expanse of his broad back, until you’re pressing at the small of his back and urging his hips forward; you don’t dare look away from him for a second, determined to make him see your resolve. “Taehyun, please.”

Your voice is a siren’s song to him; his cock twitches at the blatant need on your face, and without further warning, his guiding his cock inside you. The stretch makes your mouth fall open and your head loll back onto the pillows; he’s so thick, and you can feel it pulse the more it makes its way inside your cunt, holding your breath at the burn that ebbs away into pleasure— by the time his hips are flush against yours, you’re leaking onto the sheets beneath you, feeling as though he’s so deep you can’t breathe.

“You feel so good,” Taehyun weakly groans, glancing down to where your bodies meet before moaning again, “so fucking good, fuck. You’re perfect.”

You can only bring yourself to whimper weakly against his lips that peck at yours; you don’t think you could begin to put the way he feels into words, so full of him that it’s making you dizzy. He remains still for a second, the two of you basking in the feeling of each other, his cock twitching inside your fluttering walls, a mess of slick dripping from your entrance the longer you’re left to wait in anticipation. 

“Ready, baby?” he asks softly, having noticed your dazed expression. You’re eager to nod, clumsy hips rolling forward and making him press harder against you— you shiver at the feeling, barely able to register Taehyun’s amused chuckle as he slowly begins to pull out. 

It’s a slow, quiet moment, your nails digging into his skin as the two of you savor the feeling of each other, stuttered breaths and soft whimpers the only thing filling the air. He pulls out until only his tip is left inside you, pushing back in and filling you up with one swift motion. You let out a loud moan at the feeling, mind spinning at the way his cock curves and presses against your walls, teasing your sweet spot. Taehyun does this again, his head that was once hanging to allow him to watch the way he disappeared inside you now hovering above yours, watching carefully as your eyes widen and brows knit together with pleasure at every thrust; a sly smile sneaks onto his face as you quietly moan out his name.

“Feels good?” he asks, punctuating his question with a sudden, rough thrust that has you jolting; your nails dig into his skin just a little more, and he’s shifting, sitting up to take a good look at you. 

“You’re so cute,” he laughs, “barely even started and you’re already a mess. You sure you can take it?”

“I can,” you whine petulantly, feeling him slow down his pace, barely moving inside you, “Tyun, I need more…”

“Hmm? I don’t know, baby,”  he’s slowly rutting his hips into you, enjoying the way you pout at him, “can you ask nicely?”

Your face heats up at his words; it’s such a bold request, one that has you trying to shy away from his gaze, intense and hungry as it watches you every move. Clearing your throat, you try to ignore how pathetic you sound. 

“Please… Taehyun,” he’s shifting, moving so that he’s hovering over you, a strong hand rubbing up and down your thigh as he props himself up with his elbow, a coy smile stuck to his face. “I want you to fuck me, please— I need it, want you to give it to me.”

“Such a sweet angel,” he coos, pecking your lips before he’s beginning to thrust back into you, burying himself as deep as he can before he’s picking up the pace, more and more until his cock is abusing your leaking cunt and your body is jolting with every thrust, your eyes squeezing with bliss, “You’re so perfect, how could I ever say no to you?”

His hand on your thigh is grabbing on tight, hiking up your leg to wrap around his waist, hips angling so that he can reach deeper into you. He’s practically fucking you into the mattress, thick cock stretching you out and rubbing against your walls so perfectly, his soft moans and sighs of your name making you clench around him each time. 

He feels so good against you, strong, firm muscle against your body, honey skin smooth beneath your hands that scratch at his back, leaving a particularly harsh trail after he thrusts against your sweet spot, the grunt of pain he lets out in your ear only making you clench around him harder— he’s filling your senses, cooing out soft praises and placing gentle kisses along your jawline, groaning out your name when he feels the way you begin to tighten around him, hips growing restless against his. 

“I’m close,” you whimper, legs mindlessly wrapping around his waist, wanting him to be flush against you, “fuck— please don’t stop, you feel so good.”

“I’m close too, angel,” he murmurs, hand letting go of your thigh to reach up for your own, lacing his fingers with yours and pinning your hand against the mattress, “want you to cum for me. Wanna feel it, wanna listen to those pretty little sounds of yours.”

“Cum inside me,” the request slips from your mouth before you can think too much of it; judging by the way Taehyun’s hips stutter and he lets out a weak moan against your skin, you’re sure your words have affected him. When he asks if you mean it, you nod. “Please— wanna be filled up, please cum inside.”

Taehyun moves from his place in your neck to watch you closely, feeling his own orgasm building up intensely; his eyes scan your face, memorizing every detail of your expression, listening to the way your moans pick up in desperation. 

“Baby,” he says, and when you don’t look at him, he calls out your name; it’s soft, broken, a moan that has your eyes fluttering open to meet his. “You gonna cum baby?” 

You nod, eyes rolling back when he reaches down to rub your clit, dizzy at the pleasure. 

”Look at me,” he says, feeling his pace become sloppy as his own orgasm approaches, desperate to watch you fall apart, “wanna watch you when you cum.”

He grinds his hips against you firmly, his tip rutting against your sweet spot making you unravel in an instant, your hand that squeezes against his instantly being squeezed back in silent reassurance. The pleasure crashes on you so intensely, your mind going blank save for Taehyun’s name that you repeat like a prayer. Your eyes never leave his, watching as he follows you seconds after, his brows furrowing and his jaw clenching before he lets out a weak moan of your name, cock continuing to thrust slowly into you as he cums. 

It’s so warm, a constant pulsing of is cock that fills you up until it no longer can, sticky cum leaking from your entrance and smearing against your skin as he keeps fucking the two of you through it, until your body slumps against the bed and he melts down onto you, burying his head in your neck.

You don’t know how long you stay like this, drifting in and out of  consciousness; his cock nestled into you, his hand that holds yours tight, the pressure of his body against yours, pinning you to the bed, keeping you safe. He’s warm, and you can feel your chests rising and falling slowly, feel his heartbeat that attempts to return back to normal, his breath a gentle sensation against your skin. 

“I meant everything I said. And more,” he suddenly speaks up, burying his head into you, fond of the comfort it brings, “Stay with me. I don’t care what Yunah thinks is best for you— I want you to stay.”

A moment passes, and you allow yourself to think. You feel his hold on you tighten the longer this silence continues, as though afraid this might be the last time he’ll have you like this.

“Taehyun,” you say softly, feeling him tense against you, “I want to stay too.”

It’s instant, the way he melts against you in relief. He sighs, placing a kiss on the crook of your neck. 

“Thank god,” he murmurs, beginning to litter kisses all along your skin, not stopping until you’re a giggly mess beneath him, “thank god. I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You’ll never get rid of me,” you grin, cupping his face and guiding him to kiss you, gentle, sweet, “not if I can help it.”

“Good,” bringing up your hands that are still interlaced, he kisses the back of your hand before giving you a sweet smile. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

○○○

It’s late at night when you hear the bell ring— you don’t pay it any mind, continuing to organize the shelf behind the counter as Yunah greets the new guest, leaving to the back to search for ingredients for her potion.

It’s quiet, and you hear the way they wander along the floor, moving from shelf to shelf, picking up jars before setting them back down with a soft clink; you can’t help but hope that they’ll leave soon, left with only five minutes before you’re able to shut the apothecary— you itch to leave, to go back home and see Taehyun. 

You’re too concentrated on labelling the jars to realize that the customer has been waiting at the counter impatiently, watching as you continue to show your back to them.

“Beomgyu’s right,” you feel a warm sensation along your waist, and before you can process what’s happening, you’re being dragged away from the shelf with a gasp— you’re hovering just above the floor, unable to do anything more than get dragged around the counter and into a certain someone’s awaiting arms; Taehyun is quick to hug you close the moment his magic brings you to him, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek before laughing at your expression. “you do need to work on your customer service.”

You frown. “What? What has he been telling you?”

“Oh nothing. That you’re never greeting him properly, always off in your own little world,” he spins you around with ease, wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you in close. “daydreaming about me.”

“Oh god,” you roll your eyes, already imagining the stupidities Beomgyu has been feeding Taehyun, “how childish. I don’t want you talking to him anymore.”

”It was your idea to introduce us properly, love,” he reminds you, a smug smile on his face, “you’ve gotta deal with the consequences now.”

You can only bring yourself to grumble a soft whatever, scanning the apothecary curiously before sending Taehyun a pout. “Where’s Dago?”

He smiles, expectant of the question. “At home. He’s been missing you all day.”

“Then what are we waiting for?!” you push him away, running behind the counter to grab your bag, “let’s go home!” 

It’s instinct to lace your fingers with Taehyun’s waiting hand, turning around to catch Yunah reappearing from the back, a trail of jars behind you. 

“Heading out for the night?” she asks, smiling at the way you nod happily, “See you tomorrow then. Get home safe you two.” 

“We will. Love ya!” you chirp, watching Taehyun bid her goodbye before following you out the store. 

“Long day, Tyunnie?” you ask, the two of you beginning your trip home, “you’re dragging your feet.”

“You have no idea,” he sighs, and when you ask if he wants to talk about it, he shakes his head. “Maybe later. Don’t feel like boring you with the meeting we had today.”

”All I could think about was how much I missed you,” he trails off a bit, eyes darkening as he begins to observe you carefully, amused at the way you still fluster at his gaze, “could barely pay attention to what was being said.”

You scoff, refusing to give into his antics so easily. “Surprised they haven’t fired you.”

“C’mon baby, don’t be mean,” he teases you, tugging your hand to pull you into his side, giving you a soft kiss on your cheek, “is it so hard to believe that I’m so in love with you?”

“Hmm, I don’t know about that,” you bite back a teasing smile, “you’ll have to prove it.”

He chuckles, a dark, mischievous sound that already has you shivering with anticipation. 

“Guess we’ll have to hurry home then.”

You can’t bring yourself to resist as he sweeps you off your feet, a warm silver glow encasing you as he takes you home the fastest way he can— if anything, you merely tease him about his eagerness, which he swiftly makes you take back after a long, long night of proving himself. 

taglist: @xylatox, @fancypeacepersona, @taebatu, @prettypeachprincesz, @archoive, @bingsoob, @fatbixchwithanopinion, @notanotherbigfangirl, @soobundle1009, @barbielibra

[emeraldserenade]

Glass Agent ~ Emily Prentiss

synopsis: You never took the praise, you always tried to stay out of the spot light.

tw: fem!reader, glass child syndrome (because I'm writing one for every character I write for rn), reader's parents are horrible, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

Happy Pride Month!! I have a Wanda Maximoff as well as a Natasha "Phoenix" Trace fics coming soon!!

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When you joined, everyone thought you were just shy. That you would warm up to them all, but it never truly happened. Sure you did get more comfortable talking to them, you no longer apologized for even calling their attention. But you tried to avoid going out after cases with them, if there was an event you would try and get out of it. They noticed the way you would hang on the edges of the group when you weren't being actively conversed with.

When Derek left, it seemed to get worse. He was the one that would always force you into the spotlight, the others didn't want to make you uncomfortable. Emily came back to Luke Alvez in her desk and you took over the empty desk across from Spencer.

The way you stuck to the side, offering a small wave when Penelope said your name, only seemingly comfortable outright talking to Luke caught her attention. At first, she assumed you and Luke were a thing and that you were shy.

But then she heard a conversation between you and Penelope. "I can set you up on a blind date! I have a friend and he's super nice!"

"Penny, I appreciate it but," Penelope cut you off with a small dramatic sigh.

"Come on, I promise he won't hurt you," she tried to appeal to you.

"Penny, I like girls," you told her, rushed it out really. "And I really haven't told anyone but Luke. And only because he tried to do the same thing you just tried," you explained and Penelope tried really hard to back track.

"Oh, oh my! If I had known, I wouldn't have suggested a man!" She apologized and Emily stopped eavesdropping, fearing that she would be caught.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

From that moment on, Emily kept her eyes on you. You avoided direct eye contact and when though you brushed off praise, your entire being lit up at it.

Then your parents showed up, they were in the round table room when you walked in. You froze, your eyes on them and their frantic faces. "Oh, y/n! Thank goodness you're here!" Your mother rushed to you, everyone expected a hug but she just stopped short and looked you in the eyes. "Please tell them that your brother is in danger," she begged.

"I," you froze on your words. "I can't, mom," you settled on. "I haven't heard from him, or either of you, in years, how would I know?" You wanted to tell them to fuck off, to leave you alone like they had been since Jace was born, but you couldn't. If Jace was in trouble you needed to hear her out a bit.

"Well, he's always had problems and now he isn't answering my calls!" She told you, your father ended up standing behind her. His hands on her shoulders and his eyes on you. Your eyes darted to your team to your parents and back to your team and back to your parents.

"Can I go with them? Check out his apartment?" You asked lowly, shrinking in on yourself.

"We will go with you, right?" Luke questioned, looking at Emily who nodded.

"We will all go," she affirmed.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Then it happened, you walked into your brother's clean apartment. It was lived in and there were absolutely no signs of forced entry. You walked around a bit before you heard it. "What the hell are you all doing in my apartment?"

"Jace! Oh my baby!" Your mother flung herself into his arms as you reappeared from the hallway.

"Y/n? What are you doing here? Are these people with you?" He was holding a few bags of groceries.

"Mom showed up at my work said you hadn't been answering her calls," you told him. "I work with them," you gestured to the others.

"It was three hours mom! I was at the movies and grocery shopping!" He chastised and you hung your head lightly.

"You made it sound like days," you muttered to your mother.

"It felt like days! What if his appendix tried to rupture again!" She argued.

"Good bye, mom," you told her, leaving your brother's apartment without so much as a second glance. You stood outside against the wall when the others walked out.

"When you told me you had a complicated relationship with your parents, I didn't think you meant that," Luke said, everyone else in various states of disbelief.

"She didn't even acknowledge that she was in the wrong. That she had a complete favoritism," Spencer mumbled as he walked to you.

"It's been like that since Jace was born," you told them, leaning your head back on the wall.

"Have you heard of glass child syndrome?" Spencer questioned and you looked at him briefly. "It's what happens when one child is ignored and called so independent unless something bad happens while the other is coddled and it's almost like their problems fill the space. The child that develops glass child syndrome often was only praised for never causing trouble and being so easy to raise. They often didn't ask for more, demand space, or throw tantrums because they knew it wouldn't do anything. They tend to stay out of the way, don't ask for help, always listens but never shares and says that they are fine," Spencer paused for a deep breath and you let Luke hug you as you shifted uneasily. "They often apologize for their needs when they do express them, feel guilty for taking up conversation space, and some times believe that attention given to them is stolen from someone who needs it more. Vulnerability often feels like a burden, praise makes them uncomfortable so they brush it off, and they tend to disappear when life gets hard. Often it's not because they want to disappear but because growing up, that's what safety looked like," Spencer nodded at the end and you let out a dry laugh as you pulled away from Luke.

"Yeah? That's what my therapist says I have," you muttered, your eyes lined with tears. "Told me that I need to ask for what I want and all that stuff," you sighed, moving to the car you were in on the way there. The door was unlocked so you just jumped in, ignoring the way your chest was tightening with the urge to cry.

"I had the others ride in other cars," Emily told you as she jumped in. "That way you can have the space you probably want," she added on.

"I should have known that he was ok," you mumbled. "My mother always blows everything about him out of proportion, his problems were scraped knees and the occasional ticket," you were glaring at the dashboard in front of you.

"There's no way you could have, you only knew what she told you," Emily tried to be helpful, wanting to help you feel better.

"But I know my mother, I know how she," you cut yourself off with a small sigh. "It's stupid, never mind," you shook your head, you were domineering the conversation and it wasn't even that important.

"It's not stupid if it's bothering you," she told you and you said the first thing you could think of to keep her off your back as you saw the parking garage.

"I like you, a lot," you told her and jumped out of the car as soon as you were able to. You rushed to the others, gripped Luke by the arm, and pulled him to the stairs instead of the elevator.

"Woah, woah, Miel! What's going on?" Luke questioned as you started your decent up the stairs. meil = honey

"Emily was telling me that it wasn't stupid if it was bothering me but, you know, I don't like talking about my family so I just blurted out that I like her a lot," you told Luke and he paused.

"You told our boss about your crush on her?" Luke gave you an incredulous look and you groaned.

"I know! I fucked up," you told him. "I'm going to have to transfer, or quit and go back to my shitty public service job," you complained as Luke and you started walking again.

"Miel, you're not going back to your public service job," he told you.

"Why? You gonna pay for me? Let me mooch off you for the rest of my life?"

"There's a term for that," he said as you kept slowly climbing the stairs.

"I was avoiding saying it, Luke Alvez," you told him, pausing at the door to your floor. You two walked into the bullpen and you paused, everyone was standing there and staring at you two. "I might take you up on that offer," you mumbled and he shook his head at you.

"What offer?" Penelope looked between you two and you just shut your mouth and grabbed your things.

"Nothing, going home now, bye," you rushed out and no one said anything as you mumbled to yourself.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Emily was standing outside your house, she wasn't even sure if she should be there. You seemed pretty unwilling to talk about what you said, but there she stood with flowers in her hands. She had talked herself into and out of knocking on your door, it seemed like you knew she was there when your door opened.

"I got the ring alert when you got here. I've been watching you stand here for a few minutes, decided to put you out of your misery," you told her, letting her into your house while taking the flowers from her hand as she wordlessly handed them to you.

"I wanted to talk to you about what you said," she told you as you gestured for her to sit down on the couch.

"Ok," you sighed, worried on where this was going.

"If the flowers weren't clue enough, I like you back. I have for a while," she clarified and you paused your action of putting the flowers in a vase.

"Oh," you knew she could read your shock but you also didn't know what else to say.

"Oh?" She questioned as she walked closer, taking the flowers from your still frozen hands and putting them in the vase for you.

You watched her for a moment before she was standing in front of you again. "Can I kiss you?" You blurted before covering your mouth in fear.

"Can't kiss you if your hands are in the way," she muttered, slowly moving them away as she leaned in. Your lips brushed hers before she deepened the kiss, kissing you breathless in your kitchen.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests If you want to be added to the tag list, follow the directions on my masterlist

[that-filthy-dog]

do you want it harder, baby?

female reader x joost

summary: dissatisfied with how gentle joost is in bed, you ask him to be rougher with you.

word count: 1900

content warnings: 18+ RPF SMUT, rough sex, dom!joost, unprotected piv, biting, fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, oral (f recieving), cum eating

author's note: here's maybe my favorite thing i've written so far

Joost kisses up your body gently, working his way up to peck your lips. It's sweet. He's sweet. He kisses your neck and touches your chest, thumb brushing over your nipple. "Are you ready," He asks, voice low and soft. His other hand drifts between your legs where he had been touching you, feeling at the slick there. "Can I fuck you now, please?"

You answer with a nod and a 'please' of your own. He nudges your legs apart, squeezing a little at your thighs before quickly loosening his grip on you. He's careful and gentle pushing in, as always. Even pausing for a moment to let you fully adjust to his length, waiting for the go ahead before starting to move. His thrusts are slow and even and you have to ask him to speed up. He sighs when he does so, like he needed that. One thrust hits particularly hard and has you grunting a little 'oof!' against his lips and he mumbles a sorry and reins himself in, slowing back down a little.

He's too soft and sweet sometimes. It's just this side of not satisfying for you. And, besides it seems like he's holding back, forcing himself to be overly gentle. The way he'll grab you sometimes, fingers digging into your thighs or ass before immediately being smoothed over, like he's afraid you'll break in his grip. He doesn't even grab your hair when you blow him. You want more. You want him to do what he wants. To manhandle you and push your head down, to fuck you hard and rough. You want him to stop holding back. And you know you should just say it, tell him it’s okay to be rough.

Easier said than done. What are you supposed to do, just ask him to be meaner in bed? Probably. But what if he doesn’t really want to? Maybe it’s not even in his nature and you’re both just too sexually incompatible.

Then one night you tell him ‘faster’ and he does so, a little growl slipping from him as he picks up the pace and you know you’ll have to be the one to say something. Because no matter how much he wants it, he just won’t take it.

You try and go for it the next time you have sex.

“You know,” You trail off into a breathy moan when he crooks his fingers in you gently. “I uh- I wouldn’t mind if you were a little rougher with me..” A little questioning hum comes from him and you kind of wonder if he’s listening at all or if he’s single-mindedly focused on touching you.

“Please?” You add on, realizing quickly nonchalance won’t get you anywhere with him. Joost hums again, really looking at you.

“I don’t know.. I don’t want to hurt you.” He pets your thigh, impossibly gentle.

You sigh heavily, frustrated with him and frustrated sexually. Just frustrated. You ask “please baby?” Again and he shushes you, promising to talk about it later.

You hold him to his word, insisting to talk about it the next day when he tries pawing at your pajamas. You beg him to be rougher, to take what he wants, that you can take it, you trust him not to hurt you, and he trusts you to tell him if he does.

His hands are on you as soon as everything is cleared up. Like really on you. He pushes up your top hardly giving you a chance to take it off before he’s groping your chest, fingers at your nipples, pinching and pulling as you make out. It’s not long before his mouth moves, kissing at your neck, immediately latching on and digging his teeth into your skin. And god you want nothing more than to be his toy, a pretty little thing for him to play with and chew on. You wish you had asked for this sooner, wish you could have gotten him to touch you like this before. His hands, big and rough against your soft chest, moving, roaming your body to grab your ass, his mouth seemingly everywhere at once, your neck, your chest, lapping and sucking your nipples.

He eases you onto your back on the bed, staring at you, overcome with lust and unsure where to go next. He quickly decides though, grabbing your pajama bottoms and underwear swiftly pulling both from you. His fingers sink into your thighs as he pushes your legs apart, his hands then slip up your body as he lowers himself to you, mouth at your thighs now, kissing and biting and leaving bruises as he touches you.

He sits up a little to poke at your lips, you easily open your mouth for him, letting him slip the digit in. He feels his way in, teasing, pressing at your tongue with one then two fingers. You stare up at him as the fingers creep deeper, till they’re stuffed as far as they can go in your mouth. Joost pants softly as he stares back, gaze heavy with lust, and god he’s beautiful like this, just this side of mean.

He pulls his hand back after a moment, a soft noise comes from your throat at the loss and you can see the corner of his mouth twitch, almost smirking at you, at the way this simple teasing has you worked up. The spit slicked fingers slip between your folds with ease, thanks to how wet him playing with your mouth got you. He pushes both fingers in at once, ignoring the groan that comes from you as he quickly starts thrusting his fingers in you.

He muffles the noises you make by kissing you while finger fucking you, you tangle your fingers in his hair and moan openly into his mouth cause this is what you wanted, you were tired of the careful prodding and slow gentle touches, you wanted to hear the filthy noises as he fingers you, fast and rough your hips greedily bucking against him, the stretch of his thick fingers in you so much and not enough at the same time.

You gasp and fall back against the bed, he keeps a hand on your thigh as he finger fucks you, gently holding you down as he works you closer and closer. You can’t help the noises that come from you, the frantic pleading and cursing, the pathetic whimpering as you cum.

You almost get a chance to sigh a breath of relief as he slips his fingers out, but he pulls away just enough to find your clit. You whine, digging your fingers into the blanket under you, and shake your head a little, the overstimulation makes you squirm. His fingers flit over your clit, rubbing it before shoving inside you again. You let out a choked sound when he picks up the pace, harder than before, then suddenly stopping to touch your clit, then sinking in you once more. Just absolutely toying with you. It’s not long before you’re cumming again, almost sobbing at the feeling crashing down on you so hard and fast.

He coos at you, something along the lines of how good you are for him, you just kind of nod dumbly still trying to catch your breath when his pulls his fingers out of your cunt and shoves them in your mouth again. You groan, but diligently suck on them til he pulls them out and wipes your spit off on your cheek. He kisses you, licking into your mouth like he’s trying to taste whatever’s left of your juices. He asks if you wanna keep going and you nod, begging with a little ‘yes please’.

He hastily shucks his pajama pants off, your eyes immediately go to his cock, tip red and shiny from leaking precum. He settles between your legs, rutting against you for a moment to coat himself in your slick before pushing in. He gives himself enough time to adjust to your warm, wet, fucked out hole, so soft and pliant for him. His hips slow as he looks down to watch his cock pump in and out of you, going slow just so he can take in the sight. But it goes on for a little too long and you start to get antsy. Bucking your hips up into him, and whimpering.

“Wat,” He looks up with a ditzy, almost innocent smile, still thrusting slowly, little rutting movements. “Do you need something?”

“Please..?” You try, breathless. The teasing flustered you! It’s not your fault you’re suddenly speechless, it’s the brat fucking you’s fault!

"Ja? Do you want it harder, baby?" You whine at the question, at his pretty voice, at the way he pulls his cock out of you to slap it against your clit.

"Mhmm, yes, please.. Need you.." you mumble, nodding, making eye contact with him as you beg. His pupils are dilated, the pretty blue pushed to a thin ring.

He slides back in and fuck he feels perfect in you, filling you up so wonderfully. It's not long before he's manhandling you how he wants you, shoving your legs up so he can fuck harder, deeper. It’s almost dizzying, all the pleasure, his hands gripping your thighs, the head of his cock kissing your cervix every time he bottoms out inside of you. It’s incredible, you don’t know if either of you will be able to go back to how tame your sex life was before this. You can’t believe you let him fuck you any other way. He’s panting and groaning, more vocal than you’ve ever heard him.

"Ik-ik..Fuck…" He sighs heavily, hips almost stuttering against you. “I’m close, baby. You wanna cum together? You want me to fill you up?”

You can’t answer much more than frantic ‘please please please’ your hand slipping down your front to rub at your clit until he’s batting you away, replacing your hand with his own. He thumbs at your clit as he thrusts, making your legs shake. You think you’re about to cry from all of it, the orgasm wracking your body, stronger than you’ve ever cum before. His thrusts halt as he bottoms out in you, cock throbbing as he cums, the clenching of your walls around him sending him over the edge.

You, foolishly, think once he's finished you'll get a chance to breathe. Almost immediately he drops down, head between your thighs, tongue against you, hands on your thighs, holding you down as you squirm. The overstimulation is So much almost too much. You grip his hair as he eats you out, cleaning up the mess he made, licking up his own cum. It's so filthy. When he's finished, you're so grateful he doesn't make you cum again, he kisses you, tongue in your mouth and it's even filthier. You love it though, you love him rough and filthy.

He flops down next to you on the bed, his hand finding yours as you lay there, catching your breath and putting your brain back together. You'll have to get up and properly clean up soon, but right now you're happy to just rest. You're exhausted in the best way possible, all pleasant and fucked out. You're so glad you finally made the push to get this from Joost, instead of just wishing he'd fuck you how you want.

[boonoonoonus]

A Lesson to be Learned Pt 2

Smoke returns to Annie and finds out that he's not the only person who's been having nookie in the 7 years that passed. But of course, for him it doesn't count, but for Annie? It's a PROBLEM.

A/N: This is based on a prompt someone posted of Smoke finding Annie with someone else and losing his mind. If you happen to know who made that prompt, please tag them so I can say thank you. Also ENJOY! Shout out to my co-writer who RP'ed Annie.

Warnings: SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, dual narratives with Annie's side and Smoke's, Object penetration, An@l

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Annie inhales and exhales slowly, trying to find her words, tonguing them from behind her teeth. “How many women did you lay with while you were gone?” She didn’t believe for a second that a man as gorgeous and as magnetic as he hadn't taken lovers in the years apart. When he got gone, he was supposed to stay gone, for good. Most men left and never came back. How was she supposed to know he would? Was she supposed to wait for him?

She already knew the answer, as unfair as it was.

“You come here, not even asking, demanding I take you back, in my house, in my bed and in my body. As if everything is ok. How’d you think I’ve been Elijah?”

How many men had inquired, asked, and begged for her time? How long was she supposed to live like a widow? The unfortunate man she slept with had been one of the more useful but persistent ones, but he wasn't a love for her. The help he’d provided her and the community she looked after wasn’t small. But Elijah wouldn’t care about any of that.

All he saw was an infringement on his property.

It's not anger.

It's a seething rage that can't be tempered by her reasonable words or questions. He's hers, as much as she is his, but his dick wasn't the equivalent to her puss, not the same puss that had carried his seed and nurtured their daughter.

She was supposed to be his from the moment he married her; it didn't matter how long he was away, she belonged at his side, with him. Not bent over taking another man's seed.

"Motherfucking Beau-Dallas? That nigga you gave my puss to? Annie? Girl, if you wanted another nigga you coulda fucked Stack."

He found he meant that shit. If she needed reprieve, it should have been Stack. Though he knew it wouldn't have worked logistically, it felt right. Well, more right than this. This shit hurt his heart something fierce.

Annie doesn’t dignify the words coming out of her man’s mouth with a reply. Together, they both face the awkward, painful silence that follows. She eyed the man who had taken her virginity up and down, her hands finding their place at her hips.

“What do you want, Elijah? What are you expecting from me?” She wants him to spell it out. What would satisfy the evil spirit in him, and what would pacify both their woes for the moment?

Before, she’d thought (naive, hopeful) lying down with him would be enough. But no, how could he not notice? Fool her for bothering to hope.

Smoke looks into her eyes and doesn't say a word. He has no words left inside of him, just anger. He places his pipe at her side and squeezes her neck one more time in warning. 'Stay your ass here' he says with his eyes and she nods.

Nothing has changed in her shop, or in their house, so he knows exactly where to pull her wash basin and ambles to the stand pipe. As it shudders to life, he finds himself clenching his fist once, then twice, repeating the motion over and over again. A nervous habit he developed when they couldn't find tobacco in the trenches and rations hadn't come in yet. Something to ground him when there was nothing else.

The water spurts to life, and he fills the basin, his hands getting wet in the process. When he returns to the shop, he closes the back door behind him with a bang and sets the basin on the counter.

“Wash that nigga’s shit out’cha”

Annie stares from the basin, then back at Elijah. With a resigned look, she decides to do as he asks, moving towards the basin. In her mind, she would take it, go somewhere else to rinse and come back. That is not, however, what her man has in mind.

Annie takes the basin in hand and raises her skirt, hitching it on her hip, but he doesn't want that. Her main shop door is wide open and she's in full view of the empty street, but even if she wasn't, Smoke wouldn't, couldn't, find it in him to care. Instead, he presses down on her shoulders, forcing her into a squat. Then he kicks her legs wider and she gasps as her hips creek to life and her pussy comes into full view. He spies the dried seed along her thigh, pittance compared to what he always filled her with, but it also doesn't detract from the holy place between her legs.

Kneeling at her side, Annie watches as he picks up the mug, with the broken handles and calmly fills it with water before pressing it into her hands. With shaking hands, Annie spread her second lips with two fingers, a sight she knows Elijah delights in with his widening eyes and glance down.

She pours the cold water between her spread legs, choking down the cry of the cold touching her skin.

“Inside too,” Elijah’s voice is firm, and she finds herself nodding and tilting her pelvis and trying to clean herself from the seed dried in her hair and crevices.

“At least you kept my bush intact, though you givin’ away my puss like it's field rations.” The commentary, slick as usual, stings. Not for the first time, she realises he wouldn’t be forgetting this anytime soon. And that odd comment on Stack aside, she would just have to press through it.

“It’s all for you. You gon’ keep fussing?”

Her position is awkward, and the focused, heavy attention leaves her feeling self-conscious. The aim here was to clean herself, but her man seemed to be dallying a lot on a sight that obviously pissed him off.

She was too nonchalant for a woman who had been caught cheating, breaking her wedding vows and giving away her hoodoo puss to the unworthy and uninitiated. Did she not understand the gravity of her actions? Did she not care?

"Clearly it ain't when you leaking another man's seed" his words had venom, and he could see the pain register in her face, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

He glanced around and stifled a grin when his eyes landed on exactly what he needed. Picking up her oil funnel, he threw it into the air and caught it again.

Stooping at her side, he allowed himself to grin as she met his eye with trepidation. “I want my shit clean Annie” he grunted and rammed the end of the funnel deep inside her, pulling a yelp from her lips. He was glad, shit deserved to pain her the same way it pained him something fierce.

On some level, Smoke knew he was being irrational. He’d been gone seven years, and in that time frame he and Stack had fucked plenty of women, some alone, some together.

"Use that and wash my puss out clean,"

Oh. So that’s how it was gonna be.

The next few moments take on an almost ritualistic quality. Annie stares up at Elijah Moore and feels … indifferent. She knew who he was when they’d jumped that broom together, and she knew who he was now as he requested vindictively for her to purge herself.

The pain and discomfort were secondary to the humiliation of the moment. All of which were brought on by her own sloppy actions. She knew she should have rolled some dice and thrown some bones, but she had been needy, and it had been seven days without relief. ‘This is where lust gets you,’ she thinks and then has to let go. Her pussy throbs once more but this time in distress as she works to “clear” the liquid from inside.

Annie's too calm, too collected. So Smoke shoves it deeper, harsher into her and tips water into the funnel. She cries out, "Elijah, my puss. That hurts!" and he can't feel anything but smug satisfaction. He's cruel, but it doesn't matter. The wind blows through the open door, and she shivers as she tries to wash out the seed.

It's probably long gone. Smoke didn't see too much when she bent over, and Beau-Dallas wasn't known as a particularly fertile man. Then again, he couldn't speak. Smoke didn't have any living children either. Although he had a lot more dead ones than Beau-Dallas, some American, many, many international ones, but none that he claimed as his baby girl. But, even then, his promise had always been to seed Annie's pussy only and as such he wouldn't let another woman bear his child. Pity she hadn't kept her side of the bargain and ensured no one had his pussy when he'd made sure that no woman on American land took his seed without taking tea with it too to ensure her soil was fallow.

With his free hand, he pinches her long nipple tightly and wrings it to the side. "You gon' make it up to me? How Mrs. Moore?"

She’d said nary a word about ‘making it up to him.’ Factually, it should be the other way around. He’d left her, not the other way around, but logic has no place here.

Consciously, she knows to bow her head. “Anything you want, Papa.” She's starting to get some ideas. Granted, half of it was things that would make her squirt, but the other half was pure punishment. She’s only been figged once, but if it had to happen again—and it soothed her man’s ire some then she could bear it again.

But that was a last resort. “You know it’s yours.” This part is said through the ever increasing discomfort as she struggles to flush the last of it out. “I’m at your mercy, big man… so whatever you like. Spank it, hurt it, break it. Ain’t that what's on your mind right now?”

Elijah was obviously hurting. And making it her job to fix.

It was the 'Papa' that did it for him. Dropping the funnel in the basin, Smoke sank three thick fingers into Annie and growled when she cried out. He stretched his fingers and smirked, clearly Beau-Dallas didn't pack anything worth shit in his pants because Annie was tight, a lil loose and wet at the entrance, but past that first inch, she was tight, tight, tight. Licking up her neck, he pulled them both to their feet and roughly bent Annie forward over the counter so she could watch the door

She was shaking something fierce but Smoke was more than happy, hoping that someone would pass by them and see her slutted out, see how he kept his wife ready and willing beneath him.

He pulled up her dress, showing miles of beautiful brown skin, stretch marks and rippling ass. He kicked her legs apart and slapped her ass so hard it jiggled and screamed. She'd never like being handled roughly, shied away from a good spanking, but she'd have no choice now.

He rained slaps against her bare ass and pussy, the sounds loud in the air and her cries mixing with the claps. Annie's ass was pulsing with blood and her pussy lips engorged and wetting his fingers each time he slapped the plump lips.

Punishment it was.

Annie doesn’t try to stifle anything, sounds forced out of her, and Elijah spanks her raw. He uses enough force to leave a mark, but not too much more than that. She knows she should feel grateful; her husband always knew his limits, unlike many other men. But she’s also feeling hard done by and antsy about it all.

How many licks till he felt satisfied, how much anguish could he possibly wring out of her?

“Papa—‘m sorry.” She finally breaks down to apologise. Pride was thrown clean off, and a future of scrutiny lay before her. “—‘m sorry. Papa, it’s yours ‘m sorry. I won’t do it again.” She seeks out all the contriteness she can muster, now mired with fear and more upset. Why’d he have to be so rough? He knew she hated it when he was rough.

Lifting his hand from beating her booty to a blooming red, Smoke looked over his handiwork. Her purpling ass cheeks, dripping wet cooze and winking rosebud. It was that sight that made him groan. Quickly and efficiently, he brought down his trousers and underwear, placing his guns on either side of Annie's head on the counter with a thud. With a hand he pulled one of her ass cheeks to the side, groaning at the sound of her wet puss separating. He leaned in close and ran his tongue over her booty hole before spitting on it and with his other hand lining up his dick. Anticipating what he was about to do, his Annie sobbed against the counter, saying, "No, Papa. You too big, an nothin’ been in there since you left."

Smoke helped his tip onto her winking rosebud, he smeared his precum over it, getting it a little wet - that’s all the prep she’d get from him - and started to push.

"Good."

Annie realises much too late where she went wrong. Held tight and too firm, she understands she should have started crying and carrying on immediately. From the moment she saw her man, even. She shouldn’t have played it cool. Shouldn’t have gotten Elijah all worked up to the point that he was now so god damned intent on brutalizing her poor hole.

Through tears and cries and moans she tries and fails to let him in, too tight and not nearly enough preparation for the monster between his legs masquerading as a pecker. But just like her bad decisions from before it was just too late.

With one hand on her ass, slapping her shit, Smoke reached over his hand and pinched her long nipple, as he rode her ass. Annie sobbed into the counter, eyes leaking water and Smoke felt some of his anger abate slightly - only slightly. He eased himself into her hole, all too many inches to count, up in her guts. He planted his feet firmly on the wood floor and thrust into her so hard her head hit the table as he rearranged her guts.

Annie sobs, and the stretch alone almost makes her faint. Somehow, she doesn’t maintain consciousness as he forces his way inside. She can’t feel much more past her pain and discomfort, that which goes up by several notches when he pulls back to thrust back in.

The movement makes her scream, and she fights not to bite her tongue through her moans of complaint and apology. His name, intermingled with endearments and other pleas, fell from her lips like rain. Together, they participate in some twisted, synchronous version of unholy communion. He seeking appeasement, she seeking grace.

It's tight and rough, and a part of Smoke regrets going in dry, so much so that he reaches for the ointment she keeps on the counter and dips two fingers in the jar. When he pulls out so only the tip remains inside, he slathers his length and then flexes his cheeks and sinks back into her, smoother, but no less painful for her. That was better. With his hand on her breast, he pulled her onto his chest as he arched back himself and fucked her deep.

Some of her crying recedes when he adds some lubricant, but she can’t quite pull it all together; it’s just too much. This man was always too much. Through tears, she asks, “This what you’ve been missing?”

She can’t force the words out like ‘you satisfied?’ or ‘when will it be enough?’ but that’s what she means. Being held by him carries its own immense pressure and oppression; it means the entire time since he came in, since he held her down and forced his way inside her, she hadn’t once thought, not seriously, about fighting back. It just didn’t make sense. To fight him would be to drag things on, to act on the anger that coated her love and longing for him. She didn't want to drag this on any further. She wanted him satisfied, pacified. She wanted her gentleman back, and to get him, she had to get through this first.

Each slow thrust—now with less strain and drag on her walls—pulls something in her. Launching her racing heart back from the absolute, painful despair from before and into something more queer. With her face, ass, and hole so hot and under pressure it started to walk the thin cruel line of being almost but not quite … enough. Almost pleasurable but not enough, almost good but not enough.

She knew what would make it enough, though. But had no confidence to ask. It takes her asking him that question to draw him back into himself, to realise who is beneath him, outside of the cloud of anger all around him. Leaning over her, resting his weight on her back, Smoke wraps his arms around Annie's body and his fingers trail across her body, leaving fire in his wake. Reaching between her thick thighs, he found her nub and began rolling his finger over her button, bringing moans up from deep in her chest as he dug out her back passage.

"This what I been missing baby, you up under me. Now slip me some sweetness Ma," he commands and she shifts her head to the side and purses her lips.

Smoke doesn't hesitate, angling his head so that they could lip lock, tongues battling for dominance as his sweat dripped down onto her face. Annie can feel the moment, Smoke comes back to himself and waits anxiously for the relief it would bring. Her man—this man would lose his entire head when he was angry. And there was no going around it. Not till he cooled, not till he was satisfied. When she kisses him, she bites him too. Not taken by his words or his actions. He’d already punished her, broke her, split her open till she screamed. What came after that was compensation.

Still, she grabs a firm hold of the pleasure, soft and hesitant, unfurling within her. He man could be oh so good, when he wanted to be.

-----------------------------------------------------

AN: The rest of this chapter corrupted .... I'm PISSED but we will have a part 3, possibly 4, hope you enjoyed and apologies for it being short KMT.

[rosekeu]

BAD REVIEWS [PART THREE] : shigaraki tomura x reader [taglist OPEN!]

"if i close an eye, it’s almost like your red flags are blue.”

tw: stalking.

<< previous — next >>

His hunger was insatiable. 

It started with hellish night terrors, the kind that left his sheets damp with sweat and his neck raw from scraping. Dreams where your voice echoed in his head— crying. Begging. Pleading. Words that clung onto him long after he woke.

He tried to ignore it. Key word, tried. 

Tried to get rid of with violence, video games, and distractions. But nothing fucking worked. 

At first, curiosity got the best of him. A flicker of something deep in his gut he didn’t know how to name. 

But it grew. 

It festered. 

Until the sleepless nights turned into ones of pursuit. 

He trailed your shadow home from the market, footsteps silent over broken glass and pavement. 

You never noticed. 

Not the figure across the street, shrouded in the dark and loud noise.

Not the faint scuff marks on your car. 

Nothing. Nada.

You moved through life with quiet exhaustion, unaware of the red eyes burning holes into the back of your skull from across alleys and rooftops. It was pathetic and naive, the way you assumed quiet meant safety. That mundane routine meant security.

You weren’t careful at all. Hell, he would’ve assumed you wanted to be followed if he didn't know any better. 

It was the way you gently placed your spare change infront of a homeless man. The way you pet every stray cat on your way home. How you threw a smile to every stranger despite not knowing what was going on inside their heads. Humming soft tunes under your breath in the comfort of your own silence.

You lived like you still believed the world had kindness in it.

God, did he hate it.

Now, watching from the sidewalk across the street—hidden in the folds of night, hoodie pulled low over his eyes—standing still as stone.

Her room was on the second floor of a pretty big house. In a suburban neighbourhood. Well-kept lawns. Annoying wind chimes. Porch lights shaped like hearts and starts. The fake, saccharine sense of safety made his skin crawl. 

In a weird way, he was surprised and not at the same time. 

The light from your room glowed soft and golden. He could see your silhouette through the thin curtains, your body moving slowly as you shuffled around, completely unaware of the predator watching from below.

You were brushing your hair. Organizing and folding laundry.

Stupid. So fucking stupid. 

No locks on the window. No awareness of what the world really was.

His fingers twitched at his side. He could see every inch of you through the tiny gaps in the fabric when you moved just right. It wasn’t lust. Not really.

It was a need.

The kind that sank its teeth into his neck and dragged him here night after night.

He didn’t understand it. Part of him didn’t want to.

But there he was.

Watching like a goddamn freak, breathing hard through clenched teeth, wondering why the hell you hadn’t looked out the window. Wondering what you’d say if you did.

Would you scream?

Would you cry?

Would you smile like an idiot and let him in?

His jaw clenched. 

No. He wasn't here for dumb questions. He was here for answers. 

What the hell did you do to him?

Why the fuck couldn’t he stop thinking about you?

His hands curled and nails dug into his skin. He stood there for a while. Just staring up at the now dark window. 

You should’ve locked your window.

He shouldn't have come here.

Both had made a big mistake.

-

Climbing up to your window wasn't too hard.

He’d definitely done worse for less. With some help of an awkwardly placed drainpipe and old siding he moved up, scaling the house like it was instinct.

He moved like a ghost. Soundless and undetected. 

When he reached your window, he crouched just below the sill. The curtains were slightly open, you were lying on your side, blanket tucked below your chin, hair disheveled across your silky pillow. 

You had no clue. No fucking clue just how close he was.

He slid your window open with a soft click. 

And for a moment, he just stood there—half inside, half out—staring at the small rise and fall of your chest.

His heart was pounding. Loud. Violent. Almost enough to drown out the cheeky whisper in his skull. Don’t. Don’t do this. End it instead. Kill her. 

He recognized that voice. His master. With that came the urge to ruin. To destroy. To crumble under his touch without mercy.

But for once he decided to ignore his master's wishes. He needed to stop the hunger that came with the thought of you.

He stood beside your bed. Already reaching out. 

The warmth of your breath hit him first—then your skin, soft and tender, soon turned shocked and terrified as he clamped his hand over your mouth with a carefully raised pinky finger.  

You thrashed. 

He held you down with his free hand, careful not to touch your sheet with all five fingers.

“Shh– shit, don’t scream.” His voice a hushed snarl. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Your chest was heaving. You tried to say something but couldn’t under his strong grip.

He leaned in closer, face half-lit by the faint glow of the moonlight, eyes wild. 

“You did something to me, woman.” He said, heaving. “I can’t sleep. Can’t eat. Can’t think without seeing your stupid face.”

Your brows furrowed, panic slowly mixing with confusion.

His grip didn’t loosen. “So what the fuck is it, huh? What do you want?”

You mumbled something against his palm and he only squinted his eyes in response. “I’m going to let you go now. If you scream, I’ll make you regret it.”

You nodded furiously and he did. Taking a deep breath in, trying to calm your nerves.

“…Why are you here?” you asked softly, voice trembling. “You said not to come back. That you—”

“Forget what I said,” he snapped, his voice raw. “I didn’t mean it.”

Your lips parted, but you were left speechless. Confused and frankly very scared. Left with a feeling that traveled through your spine like ice. But something else too. A stupid, aching sort of hope.

“I’m losing my goddamn mind.” he muttered with his raspy voice, a hand dragging through his hair. “Every night, I think if I just ignore it, you’ll disappear. But I can't. Your like a fucking virus in my head.”

You stared, heartbeat echoing in your ears. “I never… I didn’t do anything.”

He shifts his attention to you and laughs cruelly. “Money? Is that it?”

“What no! I don’t want your money!” You protest, pure panic creeping into your tone. “If I did I would've said something the other night!”

“Then what is it?” His voice cracked on the edge of something feral. “Your quirk? Huh? Some kind of fucked-up mind game? Some curse you casted on me—what the fuck are you?!”

His voice rose with each word, breath coming fast. The kind of fury that wasn’t entirely about you—like it had been building for years, and you’d just lit the match. But something about it made you feel sympathy towards him. 

“Please keep your voice down. My little brother is in the room next to me.” You said with a seriousness that made him flinch. 

You hesitantly placed your own hand on his, thumb rubbing against his skin. “Look, I didn’t do anything to you.” You whispered, earnestly. Wide eyes staring at him. “I swear I’ve just been trying to live my life. That’s all, Shigaraki.”

His name on your tongue makes his body burn.

It’s the first time you said it with so much softness. So much care.

He started down to your hand on his, the gentle movements across his skin were comforting him. As if he deserved that.

His breath came shallow. He hated this. Hated how your touch didn’t repulse him—how it grounded him, just enough to realize he had crossed a line and didn’t even care.

“Stop,” he said, but it came out hoarse, almost pleading. His free hand trembled at his side. “Don’t say my name like that.”

You blinked up at him. “Like what?”

“Like I wasn't stalking you these last few days and didn’t just break into your room and put my hand over your mouth while you were sleeping” The words lay bitter on his tongue.

He was stalking you? Damn. 

That should’ve sent chills crawling up your spine, right? Should’ve had you screaming bloody murder or reaching for something to hit him with. But all you could do was stare. 

Despite everything, you wanted him. 

It didn’t make sense– not even to you. But sense had long abandoned your life, not after you hooked up with a stranger and fell pregnant. 

“You’re insane,” he rasped, gaze flickering over your face. “You’re not even scared. After all that.”

You didn’t deny it. You couldn’t.

“I’m tired of being scared.” your voice trembling. “Tired of being alone… no one knows about—” You stopped abruptly, a hand coming up to rest on your abdomen. Resting there gently, protectively.

His eyes followed the motion—like he always did—and something in his face twisted. But before he could say anything, before he could vanish and leave you like before. You moved.

You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

It was clumsy, a little desperate, but you meant it. Your cheek pressed against his clothed chest, your fingers curled weakly into the back of his hoodie. His scent—earth, ash, sweat—filled your nose, and still, you didn’t let go.

“Please, don’t go.”

Your voice cracks on the words. Longing. 

He stood frozen, like your touch physically short-circuited his brain. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air, like he didn’t know what to do with them. Like he was scared to touch you back.

“You don’t get it,” he murmured, barely even reaching your ears. “I’m not… I’m not good. I break things. I kill things.”

“You didn’t break me,” you whispered.

His breath hitched.

“And the baby’s still here too. You didn’t ruin that either.”

Something broke in his posture—just a tiny bit. The tension in his shoulders dropped. His head dipped lower, just enough that his breath brushed the top of your head. 

“You need your head checked, woman.” he rasped, eyes closing. “Seriously.”

You chuckled, fingers meekly gripping him tighter. “Y/n Bakugo, that's my full name.”

“Tomura Shigaraki.”

a/n: i'd love to know yall's thoughts :) do you like shiggy? is he oc? or is he somewhat canon? i need yalls thoughts

taglist: @rax-writes , @radlightfire , @pastelygrape @enyaaa2222 , @moonchild323232 , @ykyouluvme , @choubidoutriso , @ale-t13

[darlingdaisyfarm]

I hc that Stan and Ford would talk you through it 🥵🥵 but what are their styles?

hun im not sure i understood it right :( im so sorry if i did ur ask wrong. i feel ashamed if i misread it, but i think you meant like what they say + how they say it?? yes?

nsfw

answering ur question now, first of all i need to admit that i want both Stan and Ford crying and whimpering for me okay?? i want these old men to feel so fucking good that they’re literally just sobbing from overstimulation AAHHHBBHHHGGGGGG

okay now, so. yeah i think Stan literally cannot shut the fuck up. Ford can’t either, let’s be real. i mean they’re geminis guys. come on. /j

Stan is so nasty with his mouth it’s unreal. like this man will say anything when he’s hot and bothered and he’s NOT ashamed.

he’ll start all like “yeah, that’s it, you take it so good don’t you, sweetheart?” and escalate to shit like “you’re just beggin’ for me, huh? drippin’ down your thighs and grindin’ like a fuckin’ animal, wow. what would people say if they saw ya like this, baby?”

and you just know that at first he tries to keep it to grunts and growls, those low groany “nnnnhgh yeah shit just like that” noises but he can’t hold back for long. not when you start moaning his name or pulling on his hair and begging him to go faster and deeper so that’s when it all unravels <3 full moans. LOUD whimpers, like “oh fuck im gonna blow, just like that, sweetie, yeah keep squeezin’ me just like that..”

and his voice is so. so. raspy and hoarse and low and gravelly when he’s losing control ?? i physically can’t handle it. he’s literally panting against your mouth or neck or tits. red in the face and sweaty and overwhelmed and it’s so hot. i love him

okay and now Ford. Ford is such a different flavor but equally insane lmao. i think he gets really verbal once he feels safe with you, but before that, oh he’s struggling with how to even process it. he’s never really had anything resembling normal, loving sex in his life. so the moment he finally feels what it’s like, how good it can actually be, how soft and overwhelming it feels to be touched by someone who adores him, he’ll fall apart

he’s always trying to hide his sounds at first, kissing you to muffle his own whines or burying his face in your shoulder or stomach or crook of your neck, but that doesn’t stop them from slipping out. this man whimpers. don’t argue !! he whimpers. strangled, high, breathless whimpers when you’re touching him / riding him / sucking him off. whatever and he’s trying to keep it together but he’s sweating and blinking up at you all wide-eyed and red <333

honestly i think when Ford talks you through it, it’s mostly involuntary. his scientific brain is frying. cuz he’s genuinely overwhelmed and it just comes out, half of it muttered to HIMSELF for his own observations. like “so responsive, how can someone be so sensitive?” or “fascinating !! you’re tightening around me again, is it because i said that? or because this pose feels too good? am i deeper like this?” and the other half is little accidental confessions like “i want to make you feel good, want to make you fall apart on me. please, please keep going darling”

and then eventually, after a lot of shaking and gasping and digging his nails into your skin without realizing it, he’s just straight up crying into your neck or your hair or your mouth while he fucks you and it’s like “i didn’t know it could be this good, i didn’t know id ever get this close to anyone, please don’t stop, don’t stop” <3

[kaliforniahigh]

I can't choose just one😭 you chan choose for me or the letter that didn't get requested yet I, K, R, S, with Noah please😘

NSFW Alphabet - 900 Followers Celebration!

R (ride) | 🔞 SMUT 18+ only! | Thank you for the request 💜

Requests are currently closed for the 900 Followers Celebration!

To your defense, his lap looked absolutely inviting, especially when he wore those sweatpants that you loved so much.

You totally intended to let him play his game in peace, as you laid on the bed, reading your book. But, suddenly, invasive thoughts started to cloud your mind, and before you even knew it, you were making your way over to him.

It started innocent enough. A hand on his shoulder that started to travel over his chest. Noah leaned his head back a little, telling you that he was enjoying your touch on him.

Your wandering hands traveled even more downwards, and you rubbed him over his stomach, feeling him clench under your palms. Your face was close to his neck, and you had to stand on your tip toes just to reach over the chair.

When you attempted to go even lower, Noah paused his game, and swiveled in his chair to face you, your touch leaving his skin for the moment.

"What are you doing?", he questions, tilting his head to the side, trying to gauge your intentions.

"Just wanted to be close to you", you tell him, innocently enough.

"The bed felt lonely?"

You nodded you head yes, giving him your best doe eyes and a little pouty lip.

He find it hilarious that you think you need to beg for his proximity.

"Why don't you come here sit on my lap while I play this game?", he suggests and you beam in excitment, immediately plopping yourself on his lap.

Both of your legs are dangling off the side of the chair, and you rested your head on his chest, fingers absentmindedly messing with a loose thread on his sweatshirt.

You let a few minutes pass by, and you start to get a restless. Shifting a little on his lap to get more comfortable, one of his hands goes to grip your thigh, trying to keep you in place.

He can't see the grin on your face when you shift once again, this time rubbing your core that was thinly covered with your sleep shorts over his covered one.

He hisses quietly at the feeling.

"Noah", you whine his name and he hums, prompting you to go on. "Wanna ride you in this chair."

You feel him pause for a second over your words before he answers you.

"Well, I'm not pausing the game", it's all he says, and you lift your head to look him in the eyes, you can see the challenge there. He's giving you an opportunity to get what you want, but you're gonna have to do it all by yourself.

You don't waste time taking your shorts and panties off, and you don't even bother with his sweatpants, only sliding it a little bit lower, until you can free him from the confines of his boxers.

You pump him a few times, and he tenses under you. Maneuvering as well as you can in the limited space that you have, you lift yourself to line him up with your entrance, sinking down inch by inch.

Your head is thrown back and your eyes are squeezed shut at the feeling of him stretching you out so nicely. Noah takes a second to admire you. He loves it when you take control and get what you need out of him.

Your movements start slow. You hips leisurely moving back and forth. You rest your head on his chest once again, feeling his whole body pressing into yours.

Noah wants you to go faster, wants to feel the bounce on top of him, wants to feel your ass moving over his thighs.

But he lets you do it at your own pace.

He thinks you've been at it for hours already, but in reality, it's been only ten minutes at max.

When you moan in his ear and clench around his cock, is when he can't take it anymore.

He doesn't pause the game, just leaves his mouse and keyboard abandoned and throws his headseat on the table in front of him.

His hands rest firmly on either side of your hips, and he starts to move you up and now with more urgent movements. The change of pace catches you off guard for a second, but soon, you're leaning back to rest your hands on his knees.

"Thought you needed a little help."

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If you haven't been tagged, it's because your blog doesn't mention your age, or it is empty!

[housemdork]

house md rewatch: 1x18, "babies and bathwater"

everybody say THANK YOU, DR. LISA CUDDY, for saving the day!

doctor lisa cuddy is a superhero. she is the final hour "i need a hero" montage. she is the patron deity that answers a cleric's "divine intervention" feat in d&d. unlike the rest of the characters, who fall victim to 1x18's central problem, she rises above it; while everyone else makes decisions in a vacuum, despite knowing better, cuddy resists this temptation and saves 4 people's jobs in the process. she also defeats the BBEG like it's fucking nothing.

FUCKKKKK this guy.

1x18 is a strong example of house md's pervasive trend of pairing a very traumatic patient story with a highly personal main-cast story line that always ends up privileging the latter lol. so what if a husband lost his wife in a freak cancer onset on the operating table, after making hard decision after harder decision, and now he has to be a single father? we're much more interested in PPTH taking a $100 million hit to keep house, wilson, foreman, and chase on board, right?

yes lol. absolutely. but the patient plot leaves us with the question, regarding the hospital and the doctors within it: who is the baby, and what is the bathwater? i'll argue that, in our big trifecta's case (house/wilson/cuddy), the answer to this question varies based on who you asks, and it drives some of the conflict. bear with me through the silly language lol.

in being so certain that at least one person will prevent him from being fired, house considers himself to be the baby. the hospital bureaucracy just needs to clear out its dirty bathwater. it seems like, despite his guilt over cameron's decision, house is back to feeling confident that he can't/won't be taken out. people are willing to take falls for him, even when wilson firmly warns against this.

1x18 keeps wilson's answer to the baby/bathwater equation concealed for now. in the first half of the episode, he's just there to level with house and futilely try to convince him not to screw everything up, if such a thing is possible atp. in light of their later scene together, he's shockingly collected here, which begs the question of what his plan was going into the board meeting, if he had one at all.

cuddy, meanwhile, sees the forest for the trees. that is by far her greatest strength, while also the source of a lot of her pain/strife in the show. especially when working so closely to someone like house who, on the wrong day, sees himself as basically every tree in the entire forest. when she votes to keep vogler's money at the expense of house, i think season 1 has done enough work thus far to make it a believable decision on her part. and, boldly, she explains to house that he "is not worth a hundred million dollars." he really isn't.

this notably comes after she did him an important yet hilariously understated favor to keep vogler off his ass, should he find out that house was okay-ing seemingly abusive parents to take their kid home. if we're comparing wilson and cuddy here, then, wilson seems like the most neutral with the least clear intentions. but come the final board meeting scene, where she realizes just how much vogler has bought and gagged the rest of the hospital, cuddy makes the choice to discard the entire baby/bathwater problem. start fresh. without $100 million dollars. cheers!

what cuddy and wilson both agree on in 1x18 above all else is that house is the crux of the baby/bathwater problem, and it would be facetious to claim that cuddy's attachment to house didn't motivate her at all. she's just intelligent enough to, again, see the greater picture in conjunction with her feelings.

this guy can't do that, though. and he will never be able to.

in a scene immediately preceding the revelation that wilson was fired off the board and asked to resign, house makes an assertion about human's biological tendencies re: the mother's choice to die to save her child: "the needs of the next generation are more important." uh. then explain wilson's choice here!

the entire boardroom knew that wilson would vote to keep house on; vogler was so sure of this that he hoped wilson would have missed the meeting altogether. and wilson so flagrantly does just that, without a second thought, that it catches viewers off guard (at least, it did for me the first time i watched the episode). in strictly season 1 terms, we still don't know much about these guys' friendship. we know that they've known each other for a while, wilson gets how house ticks more than most, and the sense that something a bit deeper is there, but without any specifics or sincere textual evidence.

and, for all of wilson's warnings to house about vogler, he was naive enough to think he'd be spared. voting to keep house was so knee-jerk that it cost him a lot (for about 15 minutes of in-episode time). local stupid dumb naive compassionate idiot learns that sometimes caring about someone doesn't always win out in the end:

what i like about the resulting scene between house and wilson is how much it stands apart from how most conversations in house md have gone so far. mired in metaphors/similes (for comedic effect), people speaking around each other, miscommunication abound, house leaving the room at the pivotal moment - none of that is here. for example, while cameron has tried for weeks to squeeze something out of house, dress her feelings up to circumvent his walls, wilson is just angry, and says so outright:

"i got no kids. my marriage sucks. i only had 2 things that worked for me: this job and this stupid, screwed up friendship, and neither mattered enough to you to give one lousy speech."

"they matter."

house is, time and time again, wilson's entire forest, even when he tries to blame house for the fact that wilson holds him in that regard. this is just the first time we see that side of these 2. and house's expression above is the same he gives to cameron after she tries to appeal to him once more, just dialed up to 10. we get the first inkling of how they are each other's respective constants in their lives, too, which is a damning plot line, indeed.

there's even more honesty abound here, too, because wilson cuts through house's uncharacteristic attempt at an apology. house lies and says that if he could do it all over again, he'd change. uh, greg! people don't/can't change, apropos your own philosophy! wilson knows that he wouldn't do it differently, that the result would be the same. looking ahead, the foundation of their friendship being so one-sided, only for wilson to pull You Know What in season 4, blows me away.

i adore this trait of wilson's - his short-sightedness - because it is SO dangerous for house md. it's alienating, self-sabotaging, externally sabotaging, and very much full of love, all the time. wilson wasn't even considering any conditions at all when voting to keep house - their friendship, by nature of it being "screwed up," is unconditional, though it wouldn't have to be if wilson would just Get Up Off The Floor.

speaking of - he immediately flips on a dime and agrees to help house with the patient via his connections as a successful and prominent oncologist. okay. and once the crisis is over, he's drinking champagne out of house's red mug. okay!

this is a good preview into what my recaps will look like when wilson makes himself especially known. it's easy to point your moral compass at the immoveable, endlessly needy northern star that is house, but don't bitch and moan when you get burned for it.

[zyart-jpg]

"Where are you now when I need you most?"

Pairing: Wooin Yoo x Reader (18+)

Summary: It took one question for things to falter.

Tags: Slight angst, SMUT, Established RS, Slow-burn, MDNI

A/N: this is the first ever smut I've officially posted. Nothing crazy lol just something sweet (?) because someone asked for it REPEATEDLY in my asks. I can't tag you bcs ur anon but here you go hehe.

A/N2: 18+ BANNER CREDITS TO @cafekitsune

It started with a question.

“Would you ever consider marrying me, Wooin?”

Just seven words. Casual—almost careless. Tossed into the quiet like a pebble across still water.

You hadn’t meant it to carry weight. Just a stray thought, slipping out during a peaceful midnight—both of you curled on the couch, half-watching a show he didn’t care for but sat through anyway because you asked.

But for him, it landed like a stone to the chest.

You saw it—the way his body stiffened, how his gaze faltered like you’d brushed a nerve he’d buried deep. He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at the screen like he hadn’t heard you. Like ignoring it would make the moment pass.

Then he scoffed.

Muttered something about how stupid he’d have to be to get tied down, and looked away like you weren’t even worth the question.

And then it all unraveled.

One minute, you were warm under the covers, limbs tangled. The next, you were trading barbed words that cut too deep. Voices raised. Things said you wish you could take back. 

And finally—silence.

It’s been days.

No calls. No texts. Nothing.

Just silence—heavy, unresolved. Sitting in your chest like a bruise. You’re still raw from the argument, still haunted by the question you can’t undo. Still wondering if you should’ve stopped him from leaving, if you should’ve asked him to stay—maybe you shouldn't have asked that damned question in the first place.

You hate fighting with him.

Not because he gets angry—he does. He pushes back when it stings. Knows exactly where to aim when he’s hurt.

But it’s the aftermath that crushes you.

The way he disappears into silence like it’s an armor. No apologies. No attempts. Just time. Just distance. Like waiting it out is enough.

And maybe that’s what hurts the most.

You hate it because he never reaches out first. He can go days without your voice. Without checking if you’re okay. Not because he doesn’t care—he does, you know he does. But he won’t be the one to crack first.

You just wish—for once—he’d need you enough to break the silence.

You hadn’t blocked him. Couldn’t. You still stared at his name in your contacts more often than you’d admit. Still opens your old chat sometimes just to scroll. Still waited for that familiar notification tone you swore you’d stopped hoping for.

The days stretched into weeks, each one quieter than the last. The silence wasn’t just absence—it was torture. Every hour without a word from him gnawed at the edges of your resolve, until desperation finally cracked it wide open.

But you didn’t cave to him.

You caved to the closest thing you could reach him through—Joker.

You didn’t say much. Just a quiet, “Hey. Is he okay?” sent too late at night to be casual.

The reply came fast, but cold.

Bar.

That was it. No follow-up. No comfort.

You weren’t sure what was worse—the silence from Wooin or the one-word scraps you had to beg from someone else.

You told yourself the tears would stop. That you’d get over this. But they still stung beneath the surface, waiting to fall every time you let your mind wander.

Were you still something to him? Or had one fight been enough to erase everything?

You played it over and over. The way your voice cracked. The sharpness in his tone. The door slamming shut behind you. And the fact that neither of you turned back.

By the third week, your apartment felt colder. Emptier. Even when it was spotless. Even with music playing, or shows looping in the background like white noise trying to drown out the ache.

His absence had settled into everything—your sheets, your couch, the air itself. It clung to your skin, heavy and still, like gravity pressing you down.

You stopped keeping track of the days. The nights bled into mornings. Blankets curled around you like armor, still faintly smelling like him. Your body ran on autopilot—barely eating, barely sleeping. Crying came in waves, but even the tears felt exhausted now.

It was grief. 

That’s what it was—grieving someone who was still alive. Still somewhere out there. Just no longer choosing you.

And the worst part?

You didn’t want anyone else—you just wanted him.

Even after everything. Even after the silence.

But maybe—just maybe—the world hadn’t turned completely cruel.

Not yet.

Because just as you’d finally forced yourself to get up, to shower, to piece yourself together for the first time in days and try to step out into the city that didn’t stop moving without him—there it was.

A knock.

Firm. Then again. And again.

You froze by the door, breath caught like a bird in your throat—and suddenly, everything in you dared to hope.

A part of you hoped—prayed—it was him behind the door when you pulled it open. 

You told yourself not to get your hopes up. Told yourself it was probably a neighbor. Maybe a delivery to the wrong unit. Anything but him.

But nothing could’ve prepared you for the way your heart stuttered when your eyes met his.

Wooin stood there—rain clinging to his hair, clothes wrinkled like he hadn’t been sleeping, eyes bloodshot but blazing. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t give you the chance to ask.

Because the moment the door opened, he stepped inside like he couldn’t bear being kept out another second. His hands gripped your waist as he pushed you gently back into the apartment, kicked the door shut behind him, and locked you in his arms as though letting go would kill him.

You didn’t speak—not yet. Neither did he. But his breathing was shallow, chest pressed hard against yours, like he’d been holding in everything for days and now it was all trying to escape at once.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, finally. The words cracked in the middle, thick with emotion. “I was a fucking idiot.”

You didn’t argue. You couldn’t. Your fingers were already clinging to the back of his shirt, nails digging in just to feel that he was real. Here. 

Finally.

“I didn’t mean it,” he went on, his mouth brushing the side of your face, your temple. “What I said. I just—panicked. I’ve never had someone ask me something like that. It scared the hell out of me.”

His hands slid to your cheeks, lifting your face so you’d look at him. So you’d see he meant every word.

“But you… you’re everything I never thought I could have. Everything I don’t want to lose.”

Your lips parted to respond, but he kissed you first—soft, desperate, like he was begging for forgiveness and anchoring himself to you all at once. Like every silent day had led up to this one moment.

The kiss deepened, turned breathless. Heated.

You barely registered when your back hit the wall, or when your shirt slipped halfway down your shoulder. All you felt was him—his heat, his hunger, the way his hands moved with a desperation that bordered on pleading.

This wasn’t just sex.

It was something deeper—something aching.

He wasn’t chasing lust. He was chasing closeness, comfort, the kind of reassurance you can only ask for through touch. Through bare skin and breathless apologies murmured into the curve of your neck, like he was trying to say sorry without breaking the moment.

He didn’t rush it.

He held your face like something sacred, murmured your name like a prayer between kisses.

“I thought if I stayed away, I’d calm down. But I didn’t,” he said against your throat. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I kept waiting for you to call. To scream at me. Just... anything.”

You pulled him in closer, mouth finding his own again. And he kissed you like he was trying to erase every second of that cruel silence, every stupid word exchanged that night.

You didn’t need to ask if he still wanted you.

His hands said it all.

And so did the way he led you to the bedroom—gentle, reverent, like a sailor laying foot on land after years at sea.

You didn’t realize how much you needed him until he was inside you—slow, deep, grounding. Until your back arched off the mattress, his breath ghosting against your lips, his name a tremble caught between your teeth.

“Fuck…” he groaned, low and ragged, his voice cracked open by the weight of everything he hadn’t said. His hips rolled forward, heavy with longing. “I missed this—I missed you. So fucking much…”

Your legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him deeper, and he gave in without hesitation. Skin met skin with a wet, rhythmic slap, the room filling with the raw sounds of need—your broken gasps, his desperate groans, the bed creaking beneath the weight of everything that had gone unsaid for too long.

Every time he drove into you, a moan spilled from your lips—sharp, breathless, uncontrolled.

“Wooin—please,” you whimpered, nails digging into his back, clinging like he was the only thing anchoring you to the earth.

More. You needed more. Of him. Of this. Of everything he took with him when he walked away.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—fuck, I’m so sorry…” he choked out between thrusts, his forehead pressing into yours, voice trembling into your mouth. “I didn’t mean that shit—I just... fuck—God, you feel so good.”

His pace quickened, rhythm stuttering as his need began to overtake his restraint. He grunted every time he bottomed out, breath thick and ragged, fingers digging into your hips like he needed to feel every inch of you against him.

��You’re mine,” he growled, each word punctuated by a thrust. “This—you—fuck, you’re mine.”

Your moans spiraled higher, breath catching as your body trembled beneath him. The headboard knocked faintly against the wall, syncing with the messy, urgent rhythm between your bodies.

“I—I’m yours,” you gasped, eyes fluttering shut, your voice breaking as your body clenched around him. “‘m yours—Wooin, please—”

He groaned, rough and guttural, tightening his grip on your waist. He pushed into you again—rougher now, needier—like he couldn’t stand the idea of anything between you. His mouth hovered over your skin, your name slipping out in cracked, reverent murmurs.

You felt him everywhere—his hands, his weight, his breath, his heat—like gravity, like possession.

“Mine,” he growled again, the word torn from his throat. “Fuck—mine, all of you.”

All you could do was cry out his name, your release pooling in your stomach. Your fingers curled around the nape of his neck, clinging like you might shatter without him. Lips trembling, you choked out broken pleas between gasps, voice breathless and high. 

“I-I’m gonna c-cum—Wooin, p-please—please don’t stop—”

The words barely made it out—more breath than voice—before you yanked him closer, burying your cries in the crook of his neck. Your mouth trembled against his skin, your voice cracking as need and release blurred into something dizzying and raw.

He held you tighter, arms locking around your back like he could feel you falling apart and needed to keep every piece of you intact. His thighs pushed yours apart, driving deeper—closer.

“Yeah?” he panted, voice rough between staggered breaths. His hand slid to cradle the back of your head, keeping you flushed against him. “Gonna cum, pretty girl?” he murmured, lips brushing your temple.

You nodded quickly, gasping as your body gave in—trembling, clenching hard around him like you couldn’t let him go. 

"Go on, baby," he murmured, a breath against your ear—more ghost than voice, a reminder that he was still right there, wrapped around every edge of you. "Come ‘round me."

And when it hit, it wasn’t gentle.

It surged through you like a wave breaking too fast, too hard—knocking the breath clean from your lungs. Your cry got lost in his shoulder, teeth sinking into skin as your body trembled, and you felt him twitch deep inside, the sound he made more instinct than thought.

“M-mhm—y-yeah, like that—love, fuck—took me so well, huh?”

He groaned—low, guttural, like it was being torn straight from his chest—as he drove into you one final time, raw and aching. His hips stuttered, every muscle in his body drawn tight, trembling with the need to let go.

"Fuck—take it," he snarled, voice raw, forehead pressed to yours. "You feel that? That’s all yours, baby."

Then he broke.

Spilling inside you with a shudder, hands gripping so tight it felt like he was trying to anchor himself inside you, as if the world might fall away if he didn’t hold on.

As the high melted into quiet, he cupped your face and kissed you—slow, breathless, like a thank you, like a promise. His lips trembled against yours, still tasting of heat and something aching.

And then came the stillness.

Just heavy breathing and shared warmth, your limbs tangled, your bodies twitching with the aftershocks as you held on.

“…I’m gonna marry you—fuck, I’m gonna marry you.” he murmured, voice hoarse, almost in disbelief. “That’s my answer, love.”

His lips hovered just above yours, breath hot and erratic, still panting like he couldn’t catch it. You barely had a second to process the mess between your thighs, the oversensitivity, the aftershocks—before he shifted, still buried deep, still trembling. 

His hands were everywhere—gripping your thighs, dragging you closer, clutching at your waist like he couldn’t stand an inch of distance.

You yelped, “W-Wait—!” palm braced against his slick chest, trying to catch your breath, but he didn’t stop. Didn’t pause. Didn’t hear.

“No—no, I’m not done,” he gasped, voice unraveling, lips brushing yours as he rambled. 

“I’m gonna marry you, y’hear me? Gonna make you mine—forever, shit—‘m gonna give you everything, even the damn brats you always joked about—just—”

He sat back on his heels and hauled you into his lap, a rough, reverent motion that made you gasp again as your thighs trembled, still sore and soaked. His arms locked tight around you, grounding, caging, desperate.

“Don’t leave me,” he choked out, forehead pressing to yours like a prayer. “Not after this. Not after you let me love you like that—”

He groaned again—broken, undone—as his hips jerked up, instinctive, needy, grinding you down onto him in a slow, ruined rhythm that made your breath hitch and your fingers clutch at his shoulders.

"You got me—every part of me," he breathed, voice thick, trembling against your skin. "No one else—just you. You keep me like this, baby, please—don’t push me away now... I’m yours."

Your mind was spinning, heart a wild, aching thing in your chest. Still trembling, still sensitive—but you reached for him anyway. Kissed him like it hurt to be apart. Not from hunger. Not from need.

But like you were saying yes.

Like you were back home.