#ray might need to be moved up the line

[invinciblerodent]

(on that note i'm finally getting to watching the cast oneshot on high rollers and whoo boy)

(i might need to move my wyllmance playthrough up the line a smidge)

(i was gonna go with my cringefail loser "abolutely no rerolls for any reason" ranger and then my dark urge next but.... yknow? what can i say.)

[uzurimisery]

bitter frost, honey i'm coming home. / logan howlett x reader / nsfw

warnings: MDNI, angst, p in v, mention of vomit, makeup sex, death (not character), thoughts of suicidal ideation, sappy emotional sex, old man cums quick, Logan yells at reader, smoking, knotting (not a/b/o)

wc: 9k

A/N: I do not know brevity. This was only meant to be 4k max

It’s cold on the ranch now. The first frost came barrelling through, ice crystals hanging on the barbed wire fences and freezing over the troughs out in the pasture. Days on the ranch start early, often before dawn, the first rays of light peeking over the crest of the mountains, painting it pink and golden. He’d step out into the crisp morning air and go to the barn, where he’d feed the animals. The chickens were too loud if he didn’t feed them first, the two roosters crowing till he did, so they went first. After the chickens, it was time for the two horses and the cows. After three years of doing it, he moved with practiced precision. Scattering hay, pouring oats, and spreading seeds are all mindless tasks. 

Logan had to venture out on Weston, a reliable but honorary son of a bitch, with an icebreaker to free up the water for the herd. Then, he had to head into the barns and ensure they weren’t frozen. He should pull out the heated troughs, kept convincing himself he’d do it next weekend 27 weekends ago, and now it was necessary. His back ached a bit at the thought. Pulling out all the equipment and placing it was a full day's job with just himself doing it. He was getting a fucking headache just thinking about it.

It’s not that he wasn’t strong enough. He was just old. He was far too old to run a ranch independently with so little help. Each winter felt a bit long as if there was too much work. Maybe he had grown lazier, too, over the years. No more fighting and not working at Xavier’s school; he was just living on the land now. Cattle ranching. Felt like an All-American cowboy when he had on wranglers, flannel, Justin boots, and some hat he had picked up at the tractor supply store a year back. The hat had seen better days, and the ridge was beaten up and dented from all the times he’d fold it in half and tuck it into his back pocket. He didn’t bother with a jacket, be far too warm that way. 

The ranch was quiet, save for the sound of cattle and horses. Now, the yellow pasture stretches out from the start of his property line on the road to near the base of the mountains. His little private valley. At first, the quiet made him anxious, like he was waiting for another catastrophe to come and tear it apart. That he’d wake up with someone trying to kill him, and all too often, he’d close his eyes and envision all the torture he’d been through—too much pain and suffering in his life. 

The quiet also gave him too much time to think about everything he’d done. Everything he’d lost. He was a man who had known mainly suffering for all his life. Sometimes, he felt he didn’t deserve this peace, this serenity. It was dissonant. He was a fighter, a soldier, a weapon made human to kill and kill and kill again until the only color he knew was red, the only scent he smelt iron, till the collar around his neck pulled so tight it’d break it.

His hands ached, claws threatening to come out as he worked himself up, the sting of vomit on his tongue. The back of his knuckles split open like they weren’t even there, like there was no skin or muscle for the adamantine to cut through. Like it didn’t hurt every time it did.

Weston whinnied under him, tired of lazily trotting around the barn to check for coyote marks. He wanted to gallop around the outskirts of the land while Logan sniffed out any danger to the herd. Didn’t need a cattle dog when he was a glorified one.

“Yeah yeah, asshole.” His spurs dig into Weston’s sides, urging the horse into a gallop. He might as well get the morning round done now. 

The horse broke into a gallop, bouncing Logan in the saddle, wind whipping him in the face. For a moment, the noise in his head quieted. There was no constant thought of you, just what he had to do after rounds. 

As they reached the fence line, Logan scanned the horizon, senses on high alert. He knew he was never looking for just coyotes or stray animals; he was always searching for something more. A threat that might never come. Some bullshit hopped-up mutant on a vendetta or some power-hungry human looking to use him.

Now, at a canter, the two patrolled the whole property line as he took deep breaths, inhaling the cold air, trying to focus on the present. On the life he had here. Not what he had left behind. But the past is never far behind, and he had so much past to run from. It would always be near him, lurking in the shadows. The ranch could never drown it out, cover it up, and make him forget. Maybe it was just another reminder he could never truly escape who he was, no matter how hard he tried. 

“Easy now,” he murmured, pulling Weston to a stop near the far edge of the property. He could see everything from here. It was beautiful and peaceful, but all he could feel was the weight of what he was missing. 

Sometimes, he swore he smelt your perfume on the breeze.

“Let’s head back.” Weston turned around, ready to run the way back toward the barn. This routine was the only thing that kept him sane. The work. The responsibilities. Barely enough to keep him busy but not enough to keep him from sinking too far into the darkness in his thoughts. 

He’d gotten lazy the past week and fallen behind on the hay maintenance, so he’d need to buck it today. Move it all from being covered under some tarps to the hay barn. Move them all one by one. He was glad that 150 pounds felt like nothing to him in times like that. 

The chicken coop also needed a roof repair. The last storm did a number on it. Logan bought the supplies the last time he was in town. It just meant stripping the old one off, resecuring the waterproof liner, and hammering the steel roof. Maybe he’d add some more insulation next weekend in preparation for the winter. 

Today was going to be a long one.

───※ ·❆· ※───

A knock on the door echoed in the ranch house, slicing through the quiet thrum of the fridge kicking on and the TV volume on low. He wasn’t expecting company as he stopped mid-swig of his beer, brow furrowed. The neighbors knew by now to leave him the hell alone and had enough run-ins to steer clear of him unless it was an emergency. There were no ranch hands due to arrive until next Monday. 

His boots thudded with heavy steps as he rose from the couch and walked over. The tips of his claws cut through his skin, the metallic ring soft as he reached the door.

He grabbed the handle, ready for it to be blown off the hinges by someone knocking it down.

“Logan, it’s me.” That's a voice he’d recognize anywhere, unmistakable and achingly familiar. The one he longed to hear to the point it drove him crazy. The one he dreamed of every night, of all the terrible things it had said to him because of what he’d done. Heard it in his sleep and his waking hour like a fucking ghost haunting him.

“Can you open the door already? I know you’re in there.”

He blinked as he did, trying to grapple with his emotions brought to light by the reality of you standing there. 

“What?”  his voice cracked. “What are you doing here?” 

You looked so sad, a deep sorrow in your eyes—the kind that had been there when the two of you had argued the night before he left. It made him feel like he missed something crucial like you had lost a part of yourself—one that settled deep in your bones and moved in your muscles and ligaments.

“Charles told me where you were.”

His throat felt painfully tight, as if the words were squeezing his neck. He didn’t expect this- hadn’t expected you to ever ask Xavier where he was and come see him.

Neither of you moved, the door half-open as he stood blocking it.

“You ain’t supposed to be here.”  His tone was gruff. He had been smoking more since coming to the ranch, trying to dull his brain.

Your voice was steady but filled with so much sadness it made him want to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. Plead with you to transgress his sins. Go to confession and tell all his wrongdoings. “I needed to see you again.”

He looked out into the driveway, seeing nothing but emptiness.

“Did you fly over here? You don’t even have your suit on.”

“It’s fine,” you said with a shrug, “it’s dark out anyways.” 

He stared at you. The porch lights set a soft, warm glow on your skin, the panes of your face made clear. You looked beautiful, mesmerizingly so, as you stared up at him.

“You gonna let me in or not?” 

“Don’t get comfortable,” he grumbled, his tone softer now that you were closer. He opened the door wider, letting you walk past him.

He had the fire going, for which you were grateful. Flying without your suit always left you frigid afterward, especially since Logan had taken to living in the middle of nowhere nestled in the Rocky Mountains. You had always been jealous Storm didn’t have to deal with that. 

The ranch house Logan was living in was quaint. It was a three-bedroom, two-story house built in the 1880s that the previous owners renovated in recent years to feature modern amenities. The floors creaked as you walked, clearly still the original hardwood. He hadn’t done much decorating. It was clear that Charles had been the one to decorate the place for him.

He wasn’t ready to see you. Ready to talk about why he left you in the middle of the night four years ago. 

You quickly found your way into the living and dining room. Logan had left pocket doors open in these two separate rooms. Sitting on the couch, you could see through to the kitchen. A large pot was on the gas stove, the flames flickering on low. It smelled like beef stew.

Logan lingered by the entrance to the living room off of the entry space, unsure of what to do next. Watching you settle into the beat-up couch made him feel a mess of relief and anxiety. He was glad to see you were okay. Your hair was shorter, and you must have cut it after he left at some point. Grey hairs were coming through at your temples. 

“It’s, uh, good to see you.” Having his eyes on you like this made you feel small again. Like he was leaving you all over again.

Logan nodded, swallowing hard. “You too.” 

You smiled at him, and it hurt. Cut him like a thousand glass pieces over and over again. He was getting sandblasted and healing through it. 

He walked into the kitchen, trying to distance himself from you and his feelings, and stirred the stew. “I wasn’t expecting company,” he commented his back to you.

Your hands wrung together automatically, anxiety creeping up your throat. Maybe it was a mistake to come here and see him again when he had made it clear that he wanted nothing to do to you the night he left. “It’s fine, I don’t need to eat.” 

The wooden spoon clatters against the rest, and he puts it down harshly, making you wince. “Nonsense. I can hear your fucking teeth chattering from here.”

“I’m fine, really. It's just wind chill.” 

“Just take the damn food!” Logan bellowed, his hand slamming down against the counter, breathing heavily. “Just take the damn food.” 

You were silent for a moment, reeling. He’d never been like this with you before. “Okay.”

Logan closed his eyes, took a deep breath through his nose, and pushed it out of his mouth, trying to steady himself. He didn’t mean to lash out at you, to snap, but just seeing you again put him in confrontation with his past and his own feelings. It was more than he could handle. He grabbed a second bowl from the cabinet, ladling the stew between the both of them. Even after all this time, he took care to give you more potatoes than beef and half his carrots.

“Come sit at the table. Don’t want soup on the damn couch.” 

You moved quietly, always did. It unnerved him when he first met you. Your mutation lets you float more than walk and never hear any footfall when you move. He sat across from you, and you could finally get a good look at him. The years had never been kind to him, but he seemed older now than ever. The past three had been the worst of his life. Dark circles hung under his eyes, and the wrinkles on his face seemed more pronounced. 

The silence between you was thick with unspoken words, cut only by the scrapping of metal spoons against ceramic bowls. The sound echoed in the quiet house with the TV now shut off.

As you finished up your food, he looked antsy. His left leg bounced up and down, hand strumming on the table.

“Thank you for the stew.” you pipped up, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah, well, you look like you needed it. " Despite all these years, he still cared for you and loved you. It was evident to you. 

You both sat there momentarily, the silence returning but now filled with different tension. The possibility of reconciliation hurts more than anger.

“Why did you come here?” he puzzled. “After all this time, why now?”

You tapped against the bowl, inconsistent drumming on the sharp ceramic cutting against his ears. “I needed to see you.”

“Bullshit, what do you want”

“Jesus, Logan,’ you finally snapped, lightning crackling as you did. He acted like the wounded party when he was the one who had left you. “Am I not allowed to want to see you?” 

You didn’t mean for it to happen. Far past the age that your powers slipping up due to your emotions should be embarrassing. Static electricity builds up around you.

“You left,” you continued, to reel in your emotions, to keep them in check. “You left me without a word, without an explanation, and now you’re demanding an answer as to why I'm here? Do you have any idea what you did to me?” 

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling as he looked to the side. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t have this conversation with you. Not now. The night he left, you felt like he was ripping out his own heart, running from his feelings and the truth about the world around him.

It was like he was on autopilot as he stood from the table, knocking his chair off balance as he went. Like a bull in a china shop, that’s how he moved. He could hear you talking and feel the vibrations in the air, but none of the words meant anything. You were begging him to just sit down and talk to you, a pleading whine in your tone. 

But he couldn’t.

Just like the last time he saw you, he walked out the door with nothing but the clothes on his back into the night down the porch steps. 

The screen door slammed shut as you walked out after him, your body trembling with the intensity of your emotions, your hair standing on end from the static. He never told you what was wrong or why he did what he did. He just left. Tears blur your vision as your back hits the siding of the house, sinking down.

“Logan!” you yelled, calling out after him, voice breaking. “Please just talk to me!”

He didn’t turn around. His figure grew smaller, illuminated by the porch lights flickering from your lack of control. It felt like your heart was breaking again. The ache of his absence, familiar and painful, made all the more unbearable by seeing him again. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

“I’m staying here till you talk to me.” 

When he finally came back to the house, knowing all too damn well, he had to take care of the ranch, that was the first thing you told him. He didn’t like it but found it hard to argue with you and Charles. It was impossible to change Charles’ mind; he knew you were too stubborn to leave. So he let it happen. 

Letting you sleep in the guest bedroom across from his was easier. It felt like he slept better since you had shown up. Even if you woke him up in the middle of the night, the floorboards creaking in protest under your weight as you went pee around 4:15 a.m. every night.

He’d lie in his bed, now fully aware of the space in it next to him, listening to the sounds of the house. The gentle rise and fall of your breathing, the ticking of the clock downstairs, the wind outside. He would never admit it, but you being there gave him a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in years. The night terrors that plagued him endlessly seemed to ease. For the first time in a long time, he could close his eyes without fear of being swallowed up and spit out by the past. 

During the day, you had a tentative routine with him, and he woke up earlier than you did. It had only been a week since you had shown up. You had left at one point to fly back to the school and get some of your belongings. Every morning, you’d go out to the chicken coop, collect the eggs, and make breakfast. It was nothing fancy, some variation of a bread product, eggs, and a protein. Sometimes, it was pancakes, bacon, and eggs. Other times, it was steak and eggs. Today, it was omelets. 

You’d help out in other ways, too. Go out and move the steer to a different part of their sectioned-off pasture. You were faster at de-ice the troughs, flying, and whatnot, so he let you take over that job. It was hard work, and your muscles ached like they hadn’t for a long time. 

Logan had to admit it’s helpful having you on the ranch. He’s got a greenhouse and some therapy project Charles talked him into, but that’s been looking worse for wear. The weather pattern changed the past couple of weeks, and there’s been an inversion that has left the valley with no direct sunlight. All the plants inside had started to wilt and were on the path to dying, not that he cared. He’d survive without some tomatoes. Then you threw open the door, solar energy pouring out from your palms, and they’d perk right up. You had that effect on plants, hell, people too. 

Something about you, even if you didn’t have your mutation, would have made you shine as bright as the fucking sun to anyone. All wild curls and big smiles, a helping hand to those in need—just one of those people who made the world a better place by breathing. You always said you were just doing your part, but god, there was so much good, so much sweetness in you. If he took a bite, he’d even get a cavity. Seeing you wrapped up in an old wool sweater of his, bent over coaxing a plant back to life, made him feel so ashamed of himself. 

“The plants in the greenhouse look a lot better this week.” 

Some of the leaves crunched underfoot, but most of them were soggy in the mud as you walked over to the steer barn where he was working. One of the steers had a rock impacting his back hoof, and he had to get it out. Logan had just finished spraying it with salicylic acid and wrapping it as you walked in. 

“Like I said, you don’t need to be doing all that.” He grumbled, standing from the stool and leading the cow back to the enclosure. 

Where he spoke dissent and anger, you heard what he really felt. Fear. He was still that little boy in his father's manor.

“It’s not a problem.”

It hurts to be this close to him and not have him, to know that things could just be better if he were honest. 

You'd cook him dinner in the evening, sit at the old wooden table, and comment about the school. About what you’d been up to. You steered away from the elephant in the room. It was best to talk about the mundane things. Sometimes, you’d slip and tell him something more personal than you meant to. He didn’t add much to the conversation because he hadn’t been doing much since leaving you, but he’d chime in about the animals. About the fox that kept creeping around the chicken coop.

Logan still had moments of withdrawal, times when he’d just disappear from the ranch, and you wouldn’t see him till the morning. It was hard on you, a reminder of just how much had changed between the two of you. You used to come home to him after a day of teaching and collapse into his arms on the couch. He’d offer you a sip of his beer, something dark and hoppy, and you’d taste it and declare it’s gross. Logan had told you one day, he’d find a beer you liked, and he’d stock the fridge with it. The closest you’d gotten was some Mangocart IPA that he told you was meant for 17-year-olds, and you told him to go fuck himself. 

Healing wasn’t a straight path forward. And healing couldn’t start until you cut out the festering parts. You can never go backward, but you must go forward while looking at the past. 

The two of you sat on the porch tonight, twilight hues, deep indigo taking over the sky, and the stars coming out. The first night you were out here with him, you couldn’t stop staring at them. Had a whole thing about them since they charged up your mutation, but he just thought you looked gorgeous. Older but still gorgeous. 

That was another thing that scared him. You are aging. He didn’t know how long he had left to live, hell, if he could even die. Some wounds should have killed him many times over, but they never did. They never do. But he's seen you bleeding out and broken after a fight with Magneto, a laceration so severe you had to self-cauterize the wound on the spot and passed out multiple times while doing so. You were getting older, and he was staying the same. 

You were 24 when the two of you first met. Your parents were good folks, never held any bias towards mutants, and helped you learn to control your powers and keep yourself hidden from the government when they were still rounding up mutants. The only reason you got found out was because of Cerebro and Charles. With so little training, it should have scared him how strong you were back then. A few years with Charles, and you were deadly. Deadly, but a pacifist. 

The air was cold. You could see your breath as you rocked in the rocking chair he had out there. Wafts of pungent tobacco hit your nose as he lit up a cigar. He had stopped when you lived together. You looked over at him, feeling the weight of his eyes on you. As soon as your own met his, he looked back out into the night sky. The silence was heavy.

“Do you ever miss it?” you asked softly. 

“Miss what?” he drew another drag from his cigar.

“The school. The kids. The…purpose.”

“I think about the students daily. It was good work. Important work. But…” Logan trailed off, searching for the right words. What were the right words to say without telling you everything? “It got complicated.”

You nodded, understanding the unspoken part of his statement, drawing your knees to your chest. “It’s still important. And the kids still need you.” 

After all this time, you still wanted him. Despite every wrong he had done to you and all the harm he caused you. The most pathetic part of him was ready to take your kindness, love, and care and bathe in it. Draw you back into the bottomless pit of his life and ruin you like he had all the others. 

You saw him clench his jaw. A twisting wave of guilt and self-loathing ate him up. A man made to destroy and he was afraid to destroy you too.

“The kids will be fine without me.” 

“You don’t know that.”

“Well, they’ve been fine without me so far.” He shot back, but there was a hollow note in his voice. There wasn’t any gumption behind it. 

“They’ve managed, but that doesn’t mean they’re fine. You gave them something no one else could, Logan.  They relied on you, they needed you-they need you.” You corrected gently, reaching out to touch his thigh. He was always so warm.

He took another drag, blowing the smoke away from you. “They’ll move on. They’re better off without me.” 

“They didn’t move on, and they aren't okay without you.” 

Logan looked down at your hand on his thigh, his expression a mixture of pain and something else. Something so soft, buried deep beneath the layers of hardened exterior. He didn’t pull away, but you could see his temptation rising.

“I’m not me without you, Logan. Please just talk to me.” Your grip tightened, the denim rough under your fingers, and you begged him to let you in again. To tell you why he left you, why you haven't heard from him since.

He needed to keep you safe from himself.

“You should leave.” Standing from his chair, he threw open the screen door, letting it slam shut behind him as he walked over to the living room. 

You rose after him, chasing him into the house, your heart pounding in your chest. The floorboards cracked up the both of you, echoing in the house. He moved with a desperate, frantic everything. His broad shoulders tense as if he could outrun the conversation you were about to have.

“Why won’t you let me care about you!” You cried out, voice breaking, trembling with the weight of the emotions you've been holding back. He didn’t stop, didn’t turn around, but kept going, and your words spilled out like a damn bursting.  “I am begging you to let me in, to let me love you, to stop pushing me away like you do every time! You left me. In the middle of the night, you left. I woke up, and you were gone. And all I have ever asked of you is to let me love you.”

From behind, he looked like a man barely holding together as he reached the living room.

“I don’t want you to.” he ground out. Each word hurt to say, and he hated lying to you. 

“We both know that's a lie, Logan. I’m not stupid. I know you love me. Just please let me in. Why won't you let me in?” 

“Because I don’t want you to wind up fucking dead!” His voice reverberated off the walls. “Everyone and everything I have ever loved is buried six feet fucking deep, and I don’t want you to join the shithole graveyard that is my life.” 

Logan’s voice cut deep through the room, his shoulder hunched as he leaned over the back of the couch. The sob was settling in his chest as he tried to keep it at bay. He didn’t want you to see him crying. It was like he could see you now, lying in that grave, another name added to the long list of people he’d killed or gotten killed.

“You think leaving me is protecting me? You think that by pushing me away, you're saving me?” You hated being an angry crier, the tears welling in your eyes. “I’m already in this. I’ve been in this for years. You leaving didn’t save me—it fucking broke me.”

“I just,” his breath was shaky, knuckles white against the couch as the wood splintered from his grip. “I can’t lose you too.” 

You stepped closer, a hesitant hand hanging in the air a moment before it made contact. Slipping over his back, meeting your other hand in the front as you hugged him from behind. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, voice soft and thick with sadness. “I’m right here, and I’m not leaving. I’m not letting you leave this time.” 

He shook his head, tilting it backward to keep the tears from falling. “You don’t understand. I keep telling you that I’m cursed, that everyone who gets close to me, everyone that I love,” the crack in his voice hurt you, “ends up dead. And I can’t let that happen to you.” 

“You’re not cursed,” you mumbled into his back. “You’ve been through hell, but you deserve a chance at happiness and love.” 

His shoulders shook as the sob he had been holding back finally broke free. He crumples against the back of the couch, wrenching at his waist as his head meets his hands. You went down with him, following the curve of his back with your front, holding him tightly as he cried. 

“I’m here,” you cooed into his ear, your tears cresting down your cheeks. “I’m here, baby.” 

“I don’t deserve you.” he choked out between sobs. 

You tightened your hold on him, wishing that the pressure could soothe his aches and worries and make him feel whole again. That it would wash away all the suffering he’s been through and wipe it from his mind, even if you knew that pain was part of what made him him. 

“Yes, you do. You deserve love and happiness and to find that with me.” 

“I’m just going to hurt you again, like I have before.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me-”

“God dammit, I’ve killed people,” he stood up straight to face you, his voice jumping in volume, shaking you off balance. As you stumbled, he reached out, a hand on your hip to steady you. “I’ve killed so many people that it’d take them years to find all the bodies that I’ve fucking piled up in my 230 years of life. I am a fucking mess of a man who is so goddamn broken, and I don’t want to drag you down in the mess that I have made.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes darting around your face as he did. His beard was grown out, the greys now outnumbered the black, jaw trembling as he spoke. 

“And just when I think I can start to be okay without you in my life, you show up, doll, and it ruins all that progress I made, if I even fucking made any in the first place. Make me realize just how damn much I need you. And how much I am so fucking scared of losing you because I can’t take it if I do.”

You reached up, hand cupping his face against the scruff of his beard. “I know that I’ve always known the life you lived before meeting Charles, and it doesn’t scare me. What scares me is the thought of you shutting me out and living out here on your own till you die. You’re not this terrible monster you think you are. Yes, you’ve done terrible things, but you’ve also done so much good in the world. You’ve saved just as many lives as you’ve taken.”

His eyes softened, tongue darting out to wet dry lips that stuck to his teeth. 

“I can’t change who I am. I can’t be someone you deserve.” 

“I’m not asking you to change.” 

His other hand met your hip, both of them squeezing them tightly as his body shook. “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” you promised. It was easy to promise that to him. As much as he needed you, you needed him. “You and me, we’ll get through this, and all that's to come.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. 

For a long while, he just stared at you, listening to your heartbeat, his eyes searching yours, looking for any doubt or lie in what you said. Fearful you’d sweep the rug out from under him and leave. He couldn’t find any indication of the sort. All he could see was how much you loved him, how much the distance between you had hurt, and how badly you wanted him to let you in.

Logan let out a shaky breath before pulling you into a kiss. His facial hair tickled your face as your lips met. It was intense as his lips moved against yours, his hands sliding down to your ass to pick you up and hold you. You could feel all his longing, desperation, and the despair he had been holding back. His lips were chapped from working outside, not caring for for himself like he should be, but you didn’t mind.

It sent a shiver down your spine, having him so close after so long. He was so warm against you. Your hands slid up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. Logan groaned as you did, parting his mouth enough that your tongue could meet his. 

The kiss deepened. You could taste the salt of his tears mingling with your own. His grip on your ass tightened, pulling you flush against his body like he was afraid you might disappear. His mouth moved hungrily against your own tongue, nearly forcing yours into submission as he held you close.  He felt like a man starved. 

You matched his intensity, trying to pour all your love and care into the kiss, your lips moving together in a way that felt both familiar and new. Hoping that enough of your love could spill into his cup and fill him so full it didn’t matter what spilled out his cracks. There’d be more poured in every second. A rediscovery of what the love between the two of you had been. 

The two of you have to part far sooner than he liked, your lung capacity smaller than his own. His eyes were still wet with tears as he watched you, your chest rising and falling as you gulped down the air. 

He leaned in towards you, placing a small kiss on your forehead as he rested his head against your own, moving your ass to rest against the back of the couch. You had changed your conditioner; it smelled like honey now, but no matter how fragrant it was, it couldn’t cut through the smell of you to him. You smelled like home. 

“I’m sorry, doll.” his voice was a murmur against your scalp, heavy with regret. If hammer home the point, he’d bend nail after nail into soft wood, splitting it down the middle with how much metal he’d drive into it, just how sorry he was.

“I forgive you.”

Somehow, he gripped you tighter.“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“I know you will.” you pulled away from your position tucked against his chest to look up at him. “Kiss me again?”

He compiled without hesitation, his lips finding yours so tenderly. It was slow, deliberate, a melting of his body with yours. A promise, shared understanding, a soul tie that bound the two of you together.

Pulling away, his eyes met yours, and all he could see was love. 

“You gonna take me to bed or what, big boy?” 

Logan moved quickly up the stairs, taking two of them at a time. The promise of having you again was all the incentive he needed. He missed you. The way you felt under him, the way your pussy felt against his dick. How you fluttered around him every time he angled just right, how you smelt. He'd been jacking off to the thought of you for years now, and finally getting to have you again was like a fevered dream.

It wasn’t graceful the way he swung open his door and tossed you on the bed. You bounced a few times, mattress springs creaking as you did, before propping yourself up with an eyebrow raised, questioning him. No doubt he’d never hear the end of it; could hear you nagging him now. “A spring mattress? Logan? You’re made of metal. You can't have a spring mattress. You know this.” 

You raised a finger, curling in towards yourself, beckoning him closer. He was a dog on a leash for you, moving like a well-trained animal. If they’d found you during Project K, he would have listened to every command they gave. Hell, he’d roll over right now if you told him to. 

His knees enclosed your legs as he crawled over you, dog tags slipping out from his white tank top and dangling in your face. You smelled like him. His body wash and house, mixed with your fruit conditioner. Underneath it all, he could just smell you. The salt on your skin, the heady scent of your arousal. Logan lowered himself, tucking his head into your neck, and took a deep breath, groaning at the smell of you.

“Need you logan.”

That was something he’d missed. That pitched whine in the back of your throat you got when you were all horny and needy for him. Your voice turned raspy and low, caressed his ears so smoothly, and it made him want to purr like a fucking cat. The cadence just scratched an itch in his skull, setting his nerves on fire. 

With a low growl, he cradled your face in his hands, thumbs tracing over your cheekbones, relishing the heat coming off your skin. The little bumps and scars that crossed your skin felt like home to him, a map he’d always know how to read no matter how many years passed. He leaned in, lips meeting yours, and it just felt right. It always felt right. He was stupid for trying to run from you all this time. 

Your fingers laced in his hair on the nape of his neck, fingernails scraping his scalp. He groaned low,  wanton, animalistic, your tongue meeting his own in a warm, wet dance. Logan devoured your lips, his hunger for you impossible to sate. It was messy, desperate, the way he clung to you. Grabbing your waist and lifting you closer to him, you felt like a feather to him, all soft flesh and curves against his hard angles. 

He pulled away from the kiss, moving along your jawline and neck, stubble brushing your skin, making it more sensitive than it already was. Not stopping at your neck, he continued down over your collarbones and the expanse of your chest, all the skin he could access in the v-neck you wore. His fingers tugged at the hem of your sweater, pulling it over your head. You weren’t wearing a bra, perfect fucking nipples already perking up for him.

Logan leaned forward, his lips closing around your nipple. You gasped, back arching off the bed, the cool metal of his dog tags stinging against your skin. His tongue swirled around your nipple, fingers digging in at your waist before he pulled away with a pop, your chest heaving. You always looked so beautiful coming under him, over him, beside him, any position in which your naked body was near his and your flesh met in sinful desire.

“Oh,” his voice was ragged like he had fought all his battles and wars at once. “Oh god, doll…”

Testament and faith could be read about in books and studied. The Bible could teach you of Jesus’ preaching, but true faith, true trust in the unknown, could never be read about. It had to be felt and experienced. Logan slid to his knees, pulling your hips to the edge of the bed as he went. The fabric of your leggings felt too thick, separating him from his worship. He could smell you through them, through the lace of your panties. Heady, musky, a whine rumbles through his chest as his face falls against your thigh, nose pressed against the fast of your pussy. He breathes in deep, savoring your scent, his mouth watering like he can taste you.

“Doll, please,” he begged, opening his bloodshot eyes, his voice needy. “Let me taste you?” 

“You don't have to ask, Logan,” you replied, smiling. “I’m yours, always yours.” 

Logan hooked his finger into the waistband of your legging and panties, tugging them down in one swift motion. The cold air of the room met your skin as he did, but you didn't have long to think about it as he parted your legs, and his hot breath made contact with your pussy. His mouth hovered above for a moment, just wafting in your scent, his eyes fluttering closed. 

“Fucking love the smell of this pussy.” he murmured to himself, a low growl, before he dove in, tongue parting your folds.

Wet muscle slid between you so easily before swirling around your sensitive clit, teasing it. His hot breath ghosted over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Your fingers flew to his head, trying to find purchase in his hair as he went. Logan was ferocious. He went from your clit to your hole, delving inside you, trying to taste every inch of you. He grabbed your hips, tilting them upwards, making you squeal as he opened his mouth wider on you. Working himself into a frenzy, growling, the vibrations amplified by his adamantium skeleton. It rumbled through you, low and deep, like the base setting of a vibrator.

He takes a second, not quite remembering the perfect rhythm for you right away, but he gets to it quickly. Starts playing with your pussy like a fine-tuned machine the way he has you gushing in minutes. Your wetness coats his tongue, and that engine is firing.

Each stroke, each flick of his tongue on your clit brought you closer to ecstasy. The stars might power you, but he’d have you see them tonight. He devours your pussy like a man starved, primal hunger driving him. You couldn’t fight back, not that you wanted to. All that you could do was let him keep going. Let him take you to the edge. Push you past it. Over it. Your breath hitches, heart pounding in your chest so hard you feel it in your temples.

You push his head back, abdomen muscles flexing, a thick line of spit and arousal connecting Logan’s mouth to your pussy. His pupils were blown wide, eyes unfocused, hungry. A red, ruddy color spread across his cheeks. He felt hard enough to cut steel with his length, rutting against the bed. They move on their own accord, desperate for friction. There’s a growing wet spot of precum at the front of his darkening blue jeans.

“Cum for me, doll, please, I need to taste it.” That low vibration of his voice made you whine, hips bucking against him.

Logan spread his tongue flat and mercilessly kept going at your clit. Your moans grew louder, fingernails digging into his scalp as he manhandled you around like you weighed nothing. He gripped your hips tighter, tilting them further, ensuring he had better access to your pussy, before taking your clit in his mouth and sucking on it. An involuntary squeal came out of you as the added pressure made your back arch. 

The suction made your stomach drop, and your toes curl. He kept swiping his tongue side to side, little pulses of suction in time. It left you writhing and gasping. One of his hands released your hips, moving so that he could slip two fingers into your wet hole. You were so soaked he met no resistance, walls clenching around his digits as he slid them in, desperate for something to clamp down on. The pads of his fingers brush against your G-spot, and the lights of the room glow brighter as you begin to lose control. You’re so close so quickly it feels like you can’t breathe from how overstimulating it was. 

You push his head back, abdomen muscles flexing, a thick line of spit and arousal connecting Logan’s mouth to your pussy. His pupils were blown wide, eyes unfocused, hungry. A red, ruddy color spread across his cheeks. He felt hard enough to cut steel with his length, rutting against the bed. Your vision blurred, light filling your eyes, your only point of focus in the world, his mouth on your sensitive pussy.

“Taste so goddamn good,” he licked his lips, breaking the strand before diving back in. Your legs shook, thighs clamping down around his ears. You were so close, you could taste it. Logan picked up the pace, his tongue rapidly flicking over your clit, pumping his fingers in and out of your fluttering hole. 

The room was filled with sloppy, wet sounds of Logans eating you out mixed with your cries of pleasure. He presses your pussy harder against his face, moaning as he does. You clench around him, body drawing tight like a bow as your release nears, his fangs scrape on the fat of your pussy lips.  It's like you leave your body for a minute, your ears ringing and your heart pumping. Every nerve in your body is lit up.

Logan reaches up to grope at your breasts, and with a pinch of your nipple, you cum with a loud moan that startles the cows, the lightbulbs exploding as you do. Your body trembles and shakes, juices gushing onto his palette like a tall glass of iced tea after a long day of work during the summer, and his thirst is quenched, but his appetite is only hungrier. You felt like you were melting, pleasure pouring out of you.

“Fuck,” you sound winded, “I haven’t had that happen since I was 24.” Your smile shows crow's feet, crinkling comforts near the sides of your eyes as you smile, really smile at him for the first time this week.

“Getting old, kid.”

“Oh, shut up!” 

He ducks to the side to dodge the pillow you throw his way. 

“You want to keep going?” 

“With you, I don’t ever want to stop.”

His eyes go all soft at the corners, caught up in his feelings. “Promise you won’t ever have to again.” 

“Good.”

He picks you up and places you up on the center of the bed, grabbing the pillow you threw at him to place under your hips for support. His clothes come off, and his blue Wrangler jeans drop to the floor with his tank top and boxer briefs. The dog tags stay on. He knows you’ve got a thing for them.  They glint in the dim light, steel catching your eye.

Rough, calloused hands slide up your legs, starting at your ankles, and he kneels between your legs on the bed. He folds you nearly in half, hooking your knees over his shoulders, his hip meeting yours. You feel the curling wisps of his pubes tickle against the back of your thighs. Always been a hairy guy, told you it's how he was so warm all the time. It makes your stomach flutter.

Logan leans down, capturing your lips against his own in a kiss before lining up his pre-cum soaked tip with your entrance. He eases into you with a hiss, your walls squeezing him tightly. The length was never an issue, he was only about an inch and a half above average, but it was the girth that made your jaw go slack and droll pool out the sides as he fucked you. The stretch is delicious as he slides inside you.

The first inch yielded a slick gushing sound from your pussy, while the second made you gasp, and the third had your walls tighten around him, taking his and your breath away. The stretch felt so good with how fat of a cock he had. One that felt so much girthier than you’d ever imagine it to be. His cock twitched, heavy, inside you, his pulse beating in time with yous.

“Jesus, princess, you’re squeezing me so tight. Relax,” he rolled his hip about halfway in and still meeting resistance.  Relax.” It came out like a pant. Fuck you were so tighter, like a vice around him. He wanted to take it slow, cherish you, show you how much he’d been missing you, but he was an old dog, and he wouldn’t last that long with how bad you were squeezing him. 

Your hands gripped the sheets, nails cutting the threadbare cheap cotton ones he’d been using for all these years. “Too much Logan.” You could barely breathe, let alone get the words out.

“You can take it, doll, remember?” he groaned, finally sliding in, flesh meeting yours in a wet slap. Your poor little hole stretched to the max as you whimpered. “See? You can take it.” Logan emphasized each word with a thrust of his hips. 

He felt his control slipping, thrusts starting to pick up, super strength coming into play. It coiled deep in his belly as he buried himself to the hilt inside you. “Feel so fucking good. Oh fuck. You’re so perfect, perfect little pussy.”

Logan’s hands move to grab your breasts, pushing them together. He plays with your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and index finger. His pace is brutal, and the position allows him to hit that perfect spot on your gummy walls that has you seeing stars. He’s all grunts and whimpers, silver tips eclipsing the skin of his knuckles. It gets to the point he wants to go faster, the need to cum inside you far too great, and he lets go of your tits and balances himself on the bed. 

The base of his cock swelled, his knot beginning to grow. This was the part you missed the most. The way he’d stretch you out so good on his dick, only to then slip his knot inside you and stretch you even further. 

“Ain’t gonna last much longer, doll.” 

You moan, reaching down to play with your messy clit. It’s so wet between your legs it’s hard to find any purchase, and the sensitive nub slides back and forth so easily. The bed creaks, the wood floors groan, and the bed frame slams against the wall. He’s getting rougher by the second, his knot starting to press against you. 

“Give it to me, I’m ready.”

Logan thrusts forward, his knot sliding in with a satisfying pop, your words spurring him on. He pulses, cock swelling impossibly large before he cums. Thick, hot white ropes paint your insides as he stutters and groans, nearly growls, dropping to his elbows and forcing your knees to your chest. His hips don’t stop moving, still rutting up into you as you play with your clit. You just need a little bit more to push you over the edge. 

His voice is gravely in your ear as he careens over you, half squishing you with his weight. “I love you.” 

It’s the emotion of the moment that makes you cum. Tears in your eyes and love in your heart. Love is a lot like faith, blind trust in the unknown. A bishop can train his whole life, be a theologian, a scholar of the bible, know all of his god’s teachings inside out, and have less faith than a man who’s lived through hell. Putting your trust into the unknown and praying that good comes back to you. You felt like you were finally home, like that piece of yourself you’ve been missing for years is clicking back into place.

Logan didn’t know romance. He was gruff and awkward, snappy at the random way things. But he stood on the outside when you walked along the street, never let you carry anything, and opened every door for you. Never bought you flowers because he hated the local guy who sold them. But he picked them for you daily on his runs. Didn’t ever wash your laundry, but he folded every piece of clothing you owned and hung up all your shirts, all of it, just because you mentioned hating folding clothes to him once. 

He’d never be able to admit to you how much you meant to him fully. When you came into his life, he was close to ending things. There had been so many dark, endless days that only he remembered now. Horrors beyond human comprehension were his burden, shadowing his every waking moment until you came walking into his life.

There’d be a conversation in the morning that probably would rise into an argument. He’d likely storm off, and you’d be there waiting, telling him to get therapy, and this time, he would. This time, he’d go talk to a shrink about the mess in his head and sort it out for you, for himself. This time he wouldn’t fuck it up and leave you in the middle of the night. He’d have the difficult, uncomfortable conversations that activate his fight or flight. 

You were soft under him as he lifted off of you, still unable to pull out due to his knot. He rotated the two of you so you were on top, your chests pressed together as he lazily traced your spine. 

“I love you too.” 

“I love you more, sunbeam.” 

“Oh, absolutely not. You know I hate that name.”

©️ uzuzrimisery

thank you @txjis for beta reading

[i4oba]

nct dream as… / times of a day 𓈒✳︎🚃

[— might be a little suggestive here and there!]

✰ 6:45 am .. jaemin

helios, through the half lidded eyes of yours was there to greet both of you at the same time—you could feel its hands coming near your bare body, the rays of the sun hugging your shape perfectly, casting such beautiful silhouettes behind, you and jaemin blending all together in your hazy state. you could feel the weight of his arms on your waist, hugging you so tight, sweet nothings leaving his lips, barely above a breath, hoarse voice laced with sleep. his scent, the sweet fragrance is dizzying, the warmth of him engulfing you just as much as helios’ breath of the morning; the sky is rosy, as if it was blushing while taking its time to fully wake up, faint shades of orange and yellow dancing through it endlessly. it’s such a beautiful way to start a day, with your lover all over you, deeply ingrained in your existence.

✰ 1:20 pm .. chenle

with the fierce determination of hermes, an arm slung around your waist; you were there—sun burning the uncovered skin of your shoulders, sweat making its way down on your temples as you took a look at the beautiful postcard in your hands, quickly snatched from a souvenir shop you passed barely twenty minutes ago. with such beautiful words and phrases, cursive letters and the scent of blooming flowers, you handed it over to your lover, hands aching to intertwine. he takes it, honest smile on his face, mumbling something along the line of “i’m the luckiest guy around”, wanting nothing but strolling around the foreign city for the rest of the day, stopping just for a minute in front of a pastry shop. there are freshly baked croissants!

✰ 3:25 pm .. jisung

was it all just a coincidence or did he know about all of it, you cannot be quite sure of but you, in fact enjoyed the way he pulled you straight into the sudden dancing flashmob. the sun was shining, birds singing endlessly along with the folk music played by a kind-looking band of teenagers, flute and harp harmonising together with the occasional sound of the guitar; you did not know how to dance or what kind of dance you should think of, but your lover pulled you closer to himself and took the lead, precise moves following one another as you felt yourself become a gracious nymph all of a sudden, trapped in a human’s fragile body. “honey, you’re doing so great,” jisung beamed happily, hands travelling lower on your skin, smile so wide and heartwarming. “i love you, so much,” he mumbled into your ears, voice losing the battle against the beautiful music.

✰ 7:05 pm .. jeno

with dionysus musing in your ears, you take a sip of the rich, sweet red wine your lover poured a few seconds before. the important event you two should have gone to long forgotten, with absolutely lust filled intentions you touch jeno’s rosy lips, tugging at his messily made tie, thighs rubbing against each other as you pulled him closer to yourself. the voice of dionysus slowly fading, you could feel the inviting hands of eros, guiding every movement of yours with extra care, fully planned with a hint of sinful acts. you sighs against your boyfriend’s mouth, not caring about consequences, reputation nor anything else, as you put his hands on either side of your hips. you wanted him—you needed him at that exact moment, the taste of his lips intoxicating, almost too permanent.

✰ 8:50 pm .. renjun

with lips slightly parted, tongue darting out to wet them quickly, renjun focused on the way your bare body looked behind the canvas. he couldn’t keep his eyes off of your curves, the way your hands did such a bad job at hiding yourself, timid reflection making it all too complicated to even think about anything but you. he felt drunk, as he watched your neck, the beautiful thighs of yours, wanting nothing more than to look deeply into your eyes and touch you, touch you everywhere he can and everywhere you’d let him to do so; you were everything and even more, compared to helen of troy, magical and enchanting, alluring. “can you please finish that painting, my junnie…” you mumbled quietly, shaking your head slightly. “i need you.”

✰ 10:45 pm .. haechan

“you should never come back to this studio, man, taeyong will kick your ass,” you laughed so hard, tears were about to fall out of your eyes, replaying the freshly made song of your boyfriend. he was a self proclaimed master producer but the thing is—it was rather funny than good. of course you appreciated his effort in making a lovesong for you, to confess for the hundreth time and once more. you were his muse supposedly and even if it was unlistenable, you loved it. at least more than taeyong, who would be furious if he knew you two were there, late into the night, making out on the couch of his studio until your lips were swollen, out of breath and with only one thing in your mind: love, love and love. you would never do anything else, even if it meant taking the risk of battling twelve times like heracles.

✰ 11:35 pm .. mark

being faced with the rolling credits after god know’s how many movies being watched, you slowly rested your head on mark’s shoulder. you reached out for his hand so you could take it in yours, not caring about silly actors’ and actresses’ love affairs or the world ending in front of you. all that mattered was the two of you, the adoration you felt for him, how he needed to have you close to him. his hair falling into his eyes, you tried to brush it away from there cautiously, caressing his cheek ever so lightly. you’ve never wanted to kiss him more than you did at that moment, every rational thought vanishing from your brain at the beautiful sight of him, as if he was the long lost son of the oh so wonderful aphrodite. “do it, love. kiss me and i’m yours,” was all he said quietly.

[cheollipop]

YOU DESERVE THE 2K BABES!!! Here’s one for you;

Where San’s lazy to clean up after sex so he ends up falling asleep with his cock inside you. And the next morning ends up fucking you with his cum when he realises that his cock is still buried in you. He’s totally fucked out from the pleasure since he’s still half asleep. ❤️

Have fun with this huhu \(//∇//)\

2𝙠 𝙎𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩

we've come full circle!! I started this sleepover with a somno drabble, and now I'm ending it with another one ^^ anonnie, I am not exaggerating when I say I nearly lost my mind reading this ask....I cannot. whenever desperate san is mentioned, I need to take a breather or else I might commit a felony. maybe it's because it's the last sleepover submission but...this turned out so fluffy and so sappy and ughhhh i love love so much. thank you so much for sending this in!! I had lots of fun writing it out, so I really hope I did it justice,, happy reading~ ( = ⩊ = )♡

pairing: choi san x fem!reader

w.c.: 1.0k

tags: smut, so fluffy, and sappy, somnophilia, morning sex, unprotected sex (👎), multiple creampies, breeding kink, overstimulation, mentioned oral sex (f), they're both very very desperate, and very very in love

nsfw under cut—minors dni!

The new day’s rays peppered kisses over honey skin, soft lashes fluttering open to take in the gold cast over painted walls. San was still groggy, remnants of his dream and hints of last night’s endeavours still clinging to the back of his eyelids as he fought off the insistent drowsiness. Your scent lured him in, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck while he drew you closer with arms around your waist, chest flush with your back as he inhaled what was left of your perfume.

He breathed out a soft groan against your skin, the pleasure shooting up his spine dragging him out of the idle state of somnolence he’d slipped into. Awareness flooded his senses—the morning birds sang a familiar melody, accompanying the steady pace at which your hips moved, dragging San’s hardening cock over your sweet spot, fluttering walls enveloping him in their heat. The thick cum he pumped you full of the night before now settled over your thighs and his, crusted over the fresh layer of sweat your ministrations drew out of your pores. San’s mind raced, and then calmed down under the blinding ecstasy coursing through him with every involuntary squeeze around his length, the fingers resting over your waist now gripping the flesh as he resisted the urge to fuck into you.

He allowed you to use him, angle your hips to fit San’s cockhead directly against your g-spot, and chasing your orgasm despite knowing he’d awoken. San grew harder, perhaps because you were so entranced by your own pleasure to pay him any mind, or perhaps because of the images his brain kept drawing up, the questions it kept asking—was his cock buried within your used cunt all night, or did you wake up so desperate to take another load of his cum that you stuffed it back inside yourself?

San groaned into your neck, sliding his hand down to your hip while he lifted his head to peek over your shoulder, the pretty ‘o’ painted on your lips going straight to his groin. Leaning forward, he pressed his mouth to your cheekbone, rolling his hips to meet your own, the steady echoes of skin-on-skin reverberating between the golden walls.

“I gave you so much last night, didn’t I? Oh baby, look at the mess we made,” he mumbled against your skin, fingers tracing a line down the dried-up stream of cum on your inner thighs.

“Sannie, ‘s not enough,” you whined, reaching around to dig your nails into his ass, guiding him into your needy, leaking cunt. “Want you, please, ‘want you so bad.”

“Ah, fuck—I’ll give you whatever you want, darling, I’m all yours,” he snuck an arm under your leg, spreading you wide open before snapping his hips into you once, twice, before his rhythm turned desperate. Desperate to please, desperate to feel you clenching around him, desperate to watch his cum seep out of you under the orange hue of the early morning sun. He fucked the moans out of your parted lips, the dizzying sound harmonising with that of the robins sat at your windowsill. “God, you feel so good. ‘Wanna fill you up again, watch your pretty pussy leak while we eat breakfast.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, repetitions of ‘yes’ and San’s name rolling off your tongue while you gripped onto the hand holding your legs apart, the wet squelch of your cunt as it spat slick out every time San buried inside you masked under the overlapping mewls and grunts shared in the air separating you.

And yet, you wanted more. San was in no way a stingy partner, and more often than not, he gave more than he took. Your mind sifted through hazy memories of the prior night: soft hands bringing you down onto his face, nose nuzzling into your clit while he curled his tongue between your walls; his sensitive cock—overstimulated yet still hard—pounding into you, spurting watery strings of cum deep inside you until the fatigue rendered you unable to ask for more, falling asleep with the twitching member stuffed inside you. Perhaps you were just too needy, too drunk on San, too addicted to his being to bare his absence, even if it were for a single second.

“You’re gonna take it all, won’t you? My pretty girl’s gonna let me breed her over and over again, until her pussy can’t fit any more of me inside.”

God, you felt dizzy. Pure bliss buzzed through your body as San guided you over the edge, holding your hand as you dove head-first into a warm ocean of blues, soft waves reflecting the orange beams of sunlight under which you basked. You clamped up around him, and his thrusts turned sloppy, slipping out with how wet you were. He pushed back inside, chest heaving against your back with raspy praise—‘just a little more,’ and ‘good girl, taking me so well’—muttered onto your nape, thighs shaking against the backs of yours while he used your stretched cunt to reach his high.

San’s cock twitched as he finally unloaded within you, his pace slowing into a languid grind, and the breath he’d been holding released over your skin, low-toned moans travelling into your ears as he milked himself of every last drop and fed it into your womb.

Comfortable stillness took over the room, and the thick scent of sex mingled in the air you breathed, but San’s warmth, his scent and body, engulfed your very being, and somehow nothing else mattered anymore. you shifted onto your back, his length slipping out of you with a hiss, and the familiar trickle of the translucent liquid sent a shiver through your spasming frame. San laid on his side, propped up on an elbow while he mooned over the tranquillity gracing your features, hints of sleep still imminent on your puffy eyelids, and yet he couldn’t help but find that endearing—wanting him, needing him, even while barely conscious. San wondered what good he had done in his past lives to be worthy of such unconditional love and adoration, but didn’t dare ponder for too long, afraid of missing the blessing—fucked-out and staring up at him—the universe had bestowed on his present.

[lo1k-diamonds]

SX Seoul Series | Jungkook Entry 💜 Bubbles (Part 2)

PAIRING: Jungkook/Reader (You can also read it on AO3)

SUMMARY: You wake up the next morning and feelings you didn't want to stir are brought back to the surface. You think he might feel the same way but maybe you jumped to conclusions too soon.

WORD COUNT: 8.3k

GENRE: Exes to lovers, smuuuuuut, angst, making up

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: exes, explicit, unprotected sex (stay safe!), you guys fight and stuff gets punched and thrown around, lingering feelings, heartbreak, second chances

PARTS: [1] [2]

A.N. I wrote this story after a while of being unable to focus and write so I hope you enjoy it, I think it turned out fun :)

Masterlist | Masterpost | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs

You woke up in the morning, yet despite the sun’s rays hitting the floor, you couldn't be certain. Were you truly waking up?

You sighed and pressed yourself further back into a welcoming chest. The sheets had a familiar scent, and this along with the tattooed arm enveloping you and the breath fanning your hair made you sure that you were still dreaming. You moved ever so slightly, you wanted to submerge deeper into that dream, and his legs tangled with yours even better as if to tell you you were not going anywhere. It melted you because it reminded you of so many mornings before. So many dawns and sunsets where you’d be tucked in safely inside those arms, with his hum near your ear, his perfume trickling your nose, and you took deep breaths. That was your safety net, the place you rushed to so you could recover, rest, and gain the courage to face the world.

It was enough for you to search for even more. You were sleepy, dreaming, and on the only fluffy cloud in the sky where you wanted to be. So you turned under his arm to face him and your heart instantly trembled. His eyes were closed, but the soft lines of his face were the sweetest thing you had ever seen. You missed those pouty lips, that round cutesy nose, and the swell of those cheeks you used to tease all the time and that made you fall in love whenever delicate dimples would crease. His eyebrows had always been so expressive and now one had a piercing, which didn’t match the two rings adorning his lower lip except that he pierced the same side of his face. But even that didn’t surprise you; when you first met, he said he always wanted to do something, but didn’t know exactly what. You guessed he had figured it out.

You reached to brush his hair aside and felt the two studs on his eyebrow with a feather-like touch — you liked it. You liked everything about him, always had. You knew then your heart was getting loud and you smirked when it became deafening — because he opened his eyes. And in that moment, you decided that reality would only come knocking if you let it. You could pretend it didn’t exist. You could pretend Jungkook was still yours, that he didn’t hate you, that you belonged in his arms again.

You leaned in to nuzzle him and gave him a moment to move away. You were clear — you wanted to go on that ride again and forget everything else, but what about him?

He brushed his nose to yours once and captured your lips with a kiss that fluttered your heart. It wasn’t desperate or crude, it was gentle and warm like when two lovers said good morning. And that was all you needed.

You snuggled closer, embracing him and stretching and sighing in multiple turns. He returned your kiss and held you close, equally invested in that moment with you, away from any pain, anger, or subterfuge. This made you smile, contentment radiating from every corner of you, and it was as if you were in an alternate dimension. You could feel his love again and adore him back and you wanted to make the best of it.

Maybe it seemed against your better judgment, but you broke your kiss with a mischievous smile and turned your back on him. You pulled his arm firmer around you, in case he had silly ideas, and rubbed your ass on his crotch for good measure. The Jungkook you knew didn’t need any explanations or instructions, and indeed, he grabbed you close, grinding his hardening dick on your ass while breathing in the scent of your skin.

His hand came to cup your breast gently and you grinned, feeling elated with the way he was all over you. When he started playing with your nipple to harden it, you bit your lower lip and failed to contain your whimpers. He knew you were sensitive but it never stopped him before.

He started biting and licking down your neck and you were covered in goosebumps, arching your back to give him better access. He kept his sweet torture, but that wasn’t enough for you — you reached between your legs to grab his hard cock behind you and pull it to be squished between your thighs when you closed them. Then you rocked your hips and melted at the groan behind you.

“That’s it,” you cooed in a whisper, clenching around nothing in anticipation. “You’re so hard for me.”

You knew he loved to be coaxed, the same way you loved to tell him how good he felt. He wasn’t stopping, nibbling down your skin and pinching your nipple gently as he rutted you and you bit your lip.

“And I’m so ready for you,” you sighed. “Wont you check?”

Your tone was needy but you never bothered hiding it. His hand travelled from your chest to your core and instantly felt how you were dripping from your folds.

You whimpered, “See how you slide so well?” You meant at the surface, but his fingers sank into your flesh, pumping wet sounds out of you along with needy moans. “Fuck— You know where to go. You’ll feel so good, I promise.”

You felt his smile on your skin as he busied himself pumping you with two digits and getting juicy noises out of you. You moaned onto the pillow, rocking your hips to feel him better both inside you and in between your legs. You loved those sensations, not just the pleasure, but the scent reaching your nose because you were in his bed. You were living a dream and it was absolutely perfect.

His hand grabbed your hip, knowing well you were leaning forward and tilting your ass so he’d eventually slip inside you. The way he was making you crazy for it didn’t elude you, but you were never beyond begging.

“Fuck, baby. Please let me have you, please.”

He froze and you squirmed to feel him, thinking that was him just making you work harder for him.

He moved quickly enough that you didn’t think beyond it — he reached behind him inside a nightstand drawer and got something. You heard the wrap tearing and waited until he was ready. You didn’t let a single thought cross your mind, not now.

He grabbed your hip again and this time his cock pushed between your folds to get inside you, making you moan and lose all strength. He rocked his hips into yours and you gasped, leaning back. You didn’t expect him to grab your hair and arch you further, but you definitely tensed more around him, barely able to catch your breath.

“Fuck— Fuck, I love it when you do this.”

You could feel his breath down your neck. “Yeah? Love it whenever a guy fucks you like this?”

“No, only you.” Your reply was as natural as breathing, giving him all you had. “Always only you.” You were burning inside out, feeling flush not only on your cheeks but also on your chest, hands, and stomach. You reached to grip his arm supporting your hip in place; you were starting to get sweaty but you doubted he minded. You were just looking for more ways to connect with him. “Are you going to tease me? Make me a good girl for you? I always loved to be good so I could earn you filling me up completely.”

His hips jerked off tempo and you only sighed. He remembered for sure what you were talking about.

His fingers dug at your skin, “Yeah? How many times have you begged for a guy’s cum after that?”

“Never. You’re the only one I ever begged to, the only cum I ever wanted. The only raw cock inside me, the only—”

He stopped and pushed you by the shoulder to face him. You were a bit startled but faced him with all the vulnerability you had been showing so far. His eyes were glistening, almost hurt, and your breath shook. You didn’t want that reality, the one in which you hurt him. You wanted to be back a year before when everything was good and sweet.

His eyes were watering up and he looked down. You thought he was running away from you and you were desperate for him to stay, and you looked down too. Before you could speak, you noticed he had his hand around the base of his cock, just frozen like that.

You teared up, “Do it.”

He looked up at you and you saw tears in his eyes as well. 

You smiled, “I never had anyone other than you raw. If you want to, I’d love to feel you again.”

He didn’t even blink. You were certain it was an impulse as you saw him pull the condom out and guide himself inside you as if he were a dying man and your core was his salvation. But as you both groaned and closed your eyes with the feeling of being connected again, you couldn’t care. You looked at him with a tear sliding down your face into the pillow and knew that it would all just break your heart in the end.

He must have known it too, because his eyes were glistening and red as he thrust into you at a slower pace. You instantly wanted to beg, but he gripped you closer, jerking his hips into you in a hard yet loving way that melted you to the bone.

“Fuck,” you dragged, trying to look up so you could see him above your legs still bent to the side like when you were spooning. You could feel him all over you again, inside and out in ways that felt like your souls were merging and it had you enter that beautiful reverie. You gripped his arm harder and forced his hand on your chest to squeeze as you moved with him. “Don’t stop. Please, please, please,” you said with every moan, scared that he would pull away and leave you. “Only you feel like this, please.”

“Only me?”

He was breathless, you almost didn’t hear him over your prayers. “Only you,” you confirmed, then you trembled and the words dripped out of your mouth. “I’ve missed you so much. So much,” your voice smothered with anxiety, with the tears flowing from your eyes that you squinted shut.

You didn’t fear that he would reject you or mock you or ignore you, you weren’t thinking. Your heart was hurting and you couldn’t keep it in anymore.

He slowed down and you hid your face under your hands, immediately wanting to ask him not to stop when you felt his breath near your ear.

“Me too. I’ve missed you too, bubbles.” His voice was wavering as he reached to kiss every inch of skin in range, soon after releasing his hand from your grasp only to grab it back and bring it to his lips. “I’ve missed everything. I’ve missed this.”

A sob almost silenced you, but you managed to call for him first, “Kook.”

It was a desperate sound you were almost ashamed to let out, so your hands instantly covered your face again. 

He stopped and in a second was pulling your leg under him so he could get on top of you in between your legs and hold you tightly. He leaned down to kiss your hands away as his hips rocked into you gently.

His lips and calls convinced you to uncover your face only to wrap your arms around him and hide in his neck, “I miss you!” You whispered with a lump in your throat. “Please.”

He kissed your red and wet cheeks, down to the salty traces that led into your hairline, “I miss you too.”

Shivers ran down your body as his words emerged a knot of feelings from inside your chest. You were never able to face it, to deal with it, to forgive him or yourself, but his words. The way he was with you, holding you close just like he used to when he loved you. His body was fully connected to yours, maybe even his soul.

You sank your nails onto his back and focused on his weight on you, his soft skin, his scent, and the burning tension in your lower stomach. You knew you would explode soon but you needed to let it out.

“I wanted to see you.”

He kissed your head, “I’m here.”

“I needed to see you,” you tried, but the pleasure sparking inside you was about to steal that chance. So you hugged him closer — a moan was pushed out of you and you could feel your orgasm starting, but you still chirped, “I love—”

You couldn’t finish as you started shaking uncontrollably from the waves of pleasure tensing and relaxing every muscle in your body. You clung on to him, squeezing him so tightly you were surprised he didn’t didn’t break apart. But maybe he didn’t for the same reason as you — he was holding you together.

He waited for you to be done before pulling out and coming over your belly. He didn’t bother separating your bodies and just groaned near your ear as you hugged him close. You could feel the warm substance trickling down the sides of your stomach but you didn’t care. You were never one to be bothered, you were not disgusted by him in the slightest.

He kissed your head and you smiled, waiting and longing for his kiss to travel to your cheeks, then further to your mouth. You tried to control your happiness and kiss him back placatingly, still letting that joy reach corners of you that were dim otherwise.

When he pulled away, you had no idea what would happen, but you were at ease. Because you opened up to him and he missed you back, and even though you weren’t able to tell him properly that you still loved him, you’d surely have another opportunity soon.

That was what you thought and the reason your lips were curved, even when he got away from you to grab wipes so he could clean you. Yet as he did, you noticed he wasn’t looking at you. His jaw was hardening and he didn’t look nearly half as relaxed as you did.

Shit.

He wasn’t done yet when you tried to reach for his hand, but he dodged you and threw the wipe away before putting his legs out of the bed to sit with his back to you. You started shaking.

“Not to ruin your post-nut clarity, but I’d like to talk.”

You chuckled nervously and fumbled with the sheet — everything you said felt risky, and every step you took felt like the ice under you would crack. You feared speaking too soon but couldn’t risk doing it too late. You let those fears drown you once, but not again. At least this time your mistake would be insisting, not letting it slide.

“Nothing to talk about.”

You knew from his tone that he was about to push you away and it made you react. “That’s not true. I said I miss you, and you said it back.”

He didn’t answer; all you could see were his wide shoulders as he leaned forward, supported on his knees, and kept quiet.

You gave him the chance to speak his mind because maybe he needed time and who knew, maybe you did too. But you couldn’t think as you waited, you had no idea what to say. Nothing felt enough, but you wanted to say everything.

He heaved a deep breath and moved a millimeter to get up, and you immediately pushed. “Answer me. Talk to me. Why can’t we have a conversation?”

He scoffed, “That’s rich coming from you.”

You sat up as he got up and searched for clothes in a nearby closet. “It goes both ways.” 

You bit your tongue and cursed yourself for reacting instead of thinking first — you didn’t want to fight, you wanted to talk. 

You took a deep breath and spoke while he put a pair of boxers on, “Do you miss me?”

He scoffed and left the room and you jumped off the bed after him. You could only grab the nearest tee shirt you saw, black as everything else he owned, and scurried after him.

“Answer me,” you insisted, seeing him in the living room putting pants on. Where did those even come from? “Fucking hell, Jungkook, just answer me!”

“What?!” He exploded, anger brazen on his features, but you didn’t step back.

“Do you really miss me?”

“No.”

You raised your chin and tried to not give away how your heart was cracking further. You couldn’t think or you’d start crying. “Well, fuck you too.” Your voice still wavered, “Don’t fucking lie next time.”

You turned to reach the bathroom and get your clothes so you could leave. Your heart was pulsating with sharp pain and you knew you were seconds away from crying. You needed to get out. Now.

“You’re assuming I—”

“Yeah yeah, no seconds,” you spat bitterly, unsure if he heard you. He shut up, so he did. You grabbed your clothes, “You don’t have to worry about that.”

A sudden noise from behind you startled you so before you could strip, you turned around — he had kicked the bathroom door with so much strength you thought it might have popped off.

“What the fuck do you want from me?!”

“How many times do I have to say it? A fucking conversation!”

“I have nothing to say to you!”

“Fine! You’ll lie anyway!”

You turned your back to him, letting the poisonous anger burn your guts while you got a hang of your dress so you could put it on.

When a loud noise came from the door again, you weren’t even surprised. This time, he punched it and something metal hopped over the floor and rolled away.

“As if you didn’t say those things in the spur of the moment!”

“I didn’t.” Tears ran down your face and you cleaned them quickly, refusing to let the cry take over you. “I meant every word I said.”

“Bullshit,” his voice had so much contempt you almost broke down.

“I don’t care what you believe,” was all you said, then took the tee off. “Just because you lied doesn’t mean I did.”

He saw how your back bent and tensed while you put your strapless bra on. He was shaking in anger but he heard you sniffle and you didn’t sound like you were mocking him. He couldn’t handle it if it was true.

“Don’t joke around—”

“I’m not fucking joking.” You sounded angry now and you grabbed your dress to put it on. He clenched his fists. “But it doesn’t matter, it’s done.”

You put your strapless dress back on, adjusting it so it would cover you as much as possible. You had no way of seeing how angry he was getting at the sight of you wearing that again instead of his clothes, but it was something he would never admit.

“You want me to believe you wanted to see me?”

His voice was derisive and you turned to him. “I did.”

“That you needed to see me?”

He scoffed and you grabbed your heels on the floor. “I did.”

You turned back to him, thinking that maybe now you could actually talk, but he was shaking his head. You saw tears in his eyes before he started laughing and rubbing his face.

“It’s funny, is it?” You asked, filled with contempt yourself. “Why, you didn’t even hit the punchline yet.”

He uncovered his face and his whole expression was a warning.

“What?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. “If you’re going to mock me then at least do it well.”

His jawline was tensing again but you couldn’t care anymore.

“Come on, where’s the final question? You heard me. You would be running your mouth if you didn’t.” You scoffed, “Though I couldn’t really say it properly, but—”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

For a second you thought he was scared, but you only smirked, “I don’t? You know what? You’re right. Congratulations, you’re right about something and all you had to do was be an asshole.” You stepped towards him to get out but he didn’t move out of the way. “Let me go.”

He shook his head and you ignored all kinds of emotions on his face.

You pushed him, but he didn’t move. “Let me go.”

“No.”

You pushed his shoulders again, but he didn’t budge. You clenched your jaw, upset, and saw that it didn’t bother him in the slightest. In fact, maybe he liked it. You pushed him once more and he tried grabbing your arms, and you struggled.

He won — he grabbed your forearms, “What did you say?” You scoffed and he pulled you closer. “Tell me what was I supposed to have heard?”

“I said I—” 

You were ready to spit it in his face but your throat blocked as you looked into his eyes. You were both angry and hurt, and you thought you were above it, but you weren’t. If you said it again, it would hurt infinitely more. But then it hit you — he just used you. He was attracted to you and wanted an easy fuck, and that was what that night was. You were hung up on him like a moron.

Your eyes teared up but you made a decision — it would be easier if he just crushed your heart right now.

“I said I love you.”

He released his hold on you instantly as if you burned and you scoffed. You guessed you did — this Jungkook in front of you clearly couldn’t handle something like that. He was a fuckboy now.

You pushed him again and he didn’t resist, falling to the side and letting you pass. You started looking around — you couldn’t recall where you had thrown your purse.

“I said don’t joke around.”

His voice was barely above a whisper and you didn’t stop. You were throwing sofa pillows around, “And I said I’m not joking. And I don’t lie either, contrary to you.”

“You have no idea what you’re saying.”

You pulled your hair back with a sigh; it wasn’t on the couch. “You’re starting to sound like a broken record.” You continued looking around, maybe in the kitchen? “What does it matter anyway? I get it — why you lied. I was being emotional and you wanted an easy fuck.” You huffed; not there either. “You got it, so you want me to leave now, right? Don’t worry, I want to, I just can’t find—”

He roared and punched something that made the coat hanger fall to the floor. “You talk and talk and talk but you still don’t know what you’re fucking saying!”

You got over your shock quickly and threw your shoes on the floor, “It would help if you fucking talked instead of breaking the place!”

“I can’t fucking talk when you’re driving me insane!”

You scoffed, “Me? Maybe you are just insane.”

He stepped to you with a dangerous look, “Watch your mouth.”

“Why? What will you do?” You rolled your eyes when he only took a deep breath in response. When you looked back at him he was closer and you instantly tensed up, and not in a bad way. He was eying you in that way that had you crazy needy but you stood your ground. “You’re not touching me again.” Your lips pulled in contempt, “Not like you want to. No sloppy seconds, right? So surely no thirds or fourths or—”

He stepped forward, ready to grab you, and you gave him your most disgusted piercing look.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t look at me, don’t even think about using me again.”

You were out of breath, spitting venomous words while your eyes were locked, but in an instant, something wet dripped down your cheeks. You breathed, and instantly you recognized the pain searing your heart. It hurt. It hurt too much.

Your sob had you sucking breaths anxiously and you gave him your back. You didn’t want him to see how much it hurt you.

“I��d never use you.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Because—” He heaved a deep breath. It was complicated and he was so conflicted he wanted to punch something again. But seeing your shoulders move as you contained your sobs, his mind cleared. “Because I wanted to be with you.”

“Right,” you chuckled despite the tears. “Wasn’t fucking in a dark alley enough? Why did you bring me here?”

“To be with you.”

“Say it properly. To fuck.” He didn’t answer and you sucked in a deep breath, “Or maybe… maybe something worse. Not just to use me, did you want to hurt me? Is this some sort of… vengeance or—?”

“No!” He raised his arms to your shoulders but he didn’t touch you. You didn’t want him to.

You grinned but it was painful, “Lying again? Fuck, I never knew you like this.”

“I’m not lying.” 

“Bullshit,” you almost laughed despite your crying and sniffling.

“It’s the truth.”

“Why should I believe you?”

He gritted his teeth behind you and gripped his hair in frustration. He was never the best at saying things, he always showed you better. He wished he could turn you around and get that stupid dress off you so he could cover you in his tee shirt again. He wished he could kiss your tears and hold you again like there wasn’t a mountain between you. He wished he could have you lying on his bed again saying those sweet things that shook him to his very core. He wished he could see your smile again as you drank your honey oat milk latte just the way you liked it because he made it for you. Fuck, he wanted that and so much more, but none of it would happen. He still hated you.

“Give me one good reason why you even talked to me back at the club,” you asked, more poised now that you had calmed your sobs and cleaned your cheeks. You turned to face him and he looked almost like he was in pain, but you only blinked your wet lashes. Your nose, eyes, and cheeks were still red but he knew you were crying, there was no point in hiding it.

“You looked beautiful.”

You scoffed, “Right… Beautiful enough to fuck easy, ri—?”

“Stop saying that!” Your assumptions were driving him crazy, but you were persistent.

“Why? Cause you can’t handle the truth?”

“Cause it’s fucking bullshit!” He smacked his fist on his palm, then opened both as if he could shake you to your senses, “You think fucking you is easy? You think wanting you and bringing you here was fucking easy? I gave in! I saw you, you said those things, and I had to have you!”

“You didn’t have to bring me here.”

“No, I didn’t!” He agreed with you and it made him swallow and take a breath from his shouting. “I did it for my own selfish reasons.”

“And what were those? If not to use me, not to hurt me or exact some sort of vengeance,” you enumerated with your fingers perhaps a bit pettily, but you wanted to understand. However, he didn’t seem interested in sharing — he had turned his back on you and stepped away to have space. “Then what for?”

He grunted and rubbed his face harshly before turning to face you, “Why do you complicate everything? I answered you already — to be with you. That’s all.”

You frowned and puffed; for some reason that answer just left you even more unsettled. “That doesn’t make any sense.” He threw his hands in the air and you insisted, “You wanted to be with me? Then why not let me finish blowing you?”

He scoffed and shook his head, “Thought you would have figured it out by now.”

Your frown deepened in anger, but it hit you. “Because… you didn’t want to use me?” His only response was a twitch of his eyebrows. “Then why not let me cum? When you ate me?”

He puffed a breath as his nostrils flared, but he still answered you, “Cause I was pissed.”

“Why?”

“Why?!” Your question made it worse. “Cause you spoke to me like I was nobody!”

Your chin dropped, “What?”

“You spoke like it could have been anyone else eating you and making you crazy and it made me want to tear you apart!”

You were shocked, just looking at him, and it infuriated him even more. He tried his best to keep his cool as he paced the living room — why were you making him feel inadequate? Like he was blowing something out of proportion when it meant so much to him?

“That's— I don't get it,” you tried, confused. “I wanted you to know how good you felt—”

“You called me baby!”

He was shouting again and you blinked, “So?”

“So?!” He kicked the back of his couch. “The most fucking generic term I’ve ever heard! Do you know how many people have called me that? Made me despise them every time!”

“But I've called you that before,” you pointed out, still confused. It was one of your nicknames for each other.

“You called me something else.”

His tone was suddenly sober and you instantly knew what he meant. “Kook.”

“Yes.”

He wouldn’t tell you how much he was hung up on it. He wouldn’t let anyone else call him that, he kicked out any women who tried, and just hearing it from your mouth now gave him goosebumps. It was who he was to you, who he wished he had been for his whole life.

You were just looking at each other while you recalled calling him ‘baby’ in the heat of your shared moments. You never meant it in a general way, you meant it endearingly. But you had called him ‘Kook’ earlier, and remembering it twisted your guts. You sighed and rubbed your eyes for a second — you had decided to crush your heart then and there. You weren’t leaving his place without bloodshed so there was no point in hiding.

“I was scared of calling you that,” you admitted, facing him again despite your fears. “I was scared of exposing myself like that.”

“Well, I did,” his grin was a sneer, but you couldn’t understand. Why would what you called him hurt him if he didn’t care? “So that was like a punch to my gut. Or maybe… maybe you didn't even notice that I—”

“Of course, I fucking noticed,” you blurted out, something akin to desperation on your features. “I noticed and it made me completely lose my mind!”

He leaned forward, gripping the couch’s back, “Not enough to expose yourself to me.”

“I was scared! You still hate me, I was—” Your own words hit you in realization, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “I was scared.”

He scoffed, “Scared of what?”

“You know what,” you answered, uneasy.

“I do. See why you have no idea what you’re saying? You just blab and assume shit,” he gripped the leather couch and you thought for a moment he could have thrown it around if he wanted to. “The difference between you and me is that I knew who I was choosing.” His features hardened and you fought the urge to look small. “You said you wanted to do this and I took you.”

Your eyebrows twitched, “You’re trying to say I didn’t? Please,” you rolled your eyes. “Because I didn’t call you Kook sooner? You know better than that. I walked up to you, spoke to you, told you I wanted to be with you, came here with you, told you no one is like you, that I missed you, that no one makes me—” You huffed and bit your lip; you weren’t sure about saying any more than you already had.

His eyes were glistening but his grin was almost cruel. “You don’t look so scared now.”

You frowned for a moment before you raised your chin, “No, I guess I’m not. I was until you embraced me this morning and I thought—” Your lips twitched. “But that was fake,” his eyes snapped to yours and you stood still, “right? You lied. You never missed me, so what does it matter if you called me bubbles?” You scoffed but your eyes were filling with tears again, “Why call me that if you never meant it?” You shrugged, “I have nothing to fear anymore. It’s all fucked, I don’t think it can hurt more than this.”

His jaw was clenching hard while you spoke and he walked around. You thought he looked like a ticking timebomb with his biceps rhythmically reacting to his fists opening and closing.

“Well, I fucking wish it did,” he said. “It seems like nothing I do can hurt you, can it?”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m fucking serious!”

“Do I not look hurt to you?!”

“I want you to hurt at least a fraction of what it hurts me!” He punched the couch, but your watering eyes only hurt him more. “But all I managed to do was hurt myself even more!”

“You’re hurt?” You couldn’t hide your skepticism.

“What do you think?! Fuck, you’re so fucking selfish you can’t see anything in front of your nose!”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “Happens with liars. It’s hard to distinguish—”

“Shut up!” He turned to you and you squeezed your arms for comfort. “What does it matter if I missed you? If every fucking word out of my mouth was the truth and I called you bubbles because of what you fucking mean to me? Look at you!” You were shaking now with welled-up eyes. “Acting like a fucking abandoned puppy! You left!”

“What?”

“You left! You were the one who left!”

Your heart shook and you became pale, “That was— You mean—?”

“Yes!”

“But— You—” You were so confused. “You knew I’d leave!”

“What the fuck does that matter?! You said no and you left!”

Your heart instantly halted, “That’s— That’s something else entirely—”

“Yeah, right!” You shook with the venom in his voice. “I was ready, I made my choice, and you broke my heart!”

You were shaking and gripping your hands to soothe yourself, “I wasn’t ready.”

“You said no!”

His tone was accusatory and your chin trembled as you were swamped with old feelings and memories. 

Only this time, you took a deep breath and answered back, “Listen to yourself! That day I told you I was going to the US to work for a year and you asked me to marry you! Does that make sense?!”

He had paced to his desk and as soon as you finished, he grabbed his gaming chair and threw it to the ground.

“You said no! You could have said something else! You could have said not yet or let’s talk or— I don’t know, just anything else! But you said no!!”

“Well, fuck, what was I supposed to say?! I had that job opportunity and you were going too fast!”

He sneered, “Fast?”

“Yes, fast! We weren't together for even a year yet!”

“I don't care! I fucking knew I wanted to spend my life with you! And you said no!”

“I said I love you!”

He kicked the chair on the floor, “And it wasn't enough!”

“No, it wasn't!” You stepped forward, wanting to punch something yourself. “Clearly! You’re fucking mad I said no, but what about you?! You fucking dropped off the face of the earth! You knew the dates of my contract, I forwarded the flight information to you, and you never spoke to me again! You didn’t even say goodbye!”

“What goodbye?! What bigger goodbye do you need than rejecting me when I’m on my knees for you?!”

“Stop being so fucking self-centered!” He started laughing, but you were not done. “I said I loved you. I wanted to be with you and you threw a tantrum like a child!”

“A tantrum?” He was still laughing and you’d recognise that bitterness anywhere.

“Be honest,” you breathed. “Would you have come with me?”

His laughter died. “What?”

“You heard me. And if you couldn’t, would you have waited for me?”

His eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights and you let the tears fall from your eyes.

“I never got to ask,” you continued in the silence. “You never answered me again. I always thought that your not answering was your answer. That you never wanted to see me again because if I wouldn’t marry you like you wanted, then you wanted nothing to do with me.”

He finally breathed, “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” You smiled and cleaned your cheeks, “Then why is that the only thing you say? That I said no? I never meant no forever, I never meant that I wouldn’t in the future. But I needed that opportunity to build my career, I needed that sacrifice from you and you turned your back on me.”

“No, I—” His mouth was opening and closing, he couldn’t find the right words. “Because— Because I thought you wanted to just— To just leave me behind.”

“Behind? As if I wasn’t leaving my heart with you? Tell me, did you ever think about asking me? About talking to me?” His lips twitched in hesitation and your lips curved painfully, “Right.”

“I wanted to,” he admitted, but you shook your head in disbelief. “I wanted to but I felt broken. You left me and rejected a future with me, you didn’t want me. What point was there in reaching out to you?”

“I wish you had. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked, but a part of me likes to believe we would have made it. One year was a long time but not the end of the world. For you, I would have done it.”

You nodded and looked at his feet for a moment. None of you would ever know now, but you believed it. You were at peace with at least having voiced that to him.

You looked up at him and saw as clear as day how lost he was. He was gripping his hair with pain across his features, maybe something else. He was still shirtless in front of you, a Greek God in all his glory, yet your eyes couldn’t abandon the soft curls of his hair. Now that everything was out there, you were sort of melancholic. You’d miss him.

“Fuck,” he dragged in a grunt. “Is this what you wanted? To find me again and break me?”

You chuckled, “What the hell are you saying? I never thought I’d see you again. And if I did, I expected to find you married to the woman of your dreams.”

He groaned and rubbed his face before facing you, “You— You’re the woman of my dreams!”

Your lips trembled but you stayed quiet; you had no idea where any of that left you.

“I can’t believe this,” he let out, then scoffed. “No, I’m in too deep now. You could have reached out too. You could have told me all this and asked me before, but instead, you just turned and left. Because you didn’t want me.”

“I called you!”

“For like two days! How long do you think it took to heal my wounded heart?”

“I don’t know! From what I’ve heard, your heart has been more than comforted, you probably healed very fast!”

“Oh fuck off,” he spat with harsh eyes. You regretted letting those feelings surface, but it was too late. “You left me after rejecting me, I was free to do whatever I wanted and screw whoever I pleased.”

“You’re right, forget I said that.”

He laughed, “Nah, that’s just you. Worried about whether I’ve been well-fed or not. Why? Thought that would make it easier?”

“What?”

“I don’t know, to get me crazy again.”

You couldn’t help your lips pulling, “I did drive you crazy.” His eyebrow twitched over a dark gaze and you quickly sobered up. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“You’re fucking incredible, you know that?” He could be spitting those words for all intents and purposes.

“No, I meant that after I called you, I took your silence as—”

“No, no, fuck that. Excuses, all of it. You saw me on my knees and butchered my heart, then left days later for another country. If you cared, you would have done more.”

“You act as if you don’t have arms and legs yourself.”

“And you act like a damsel in distress when you’re anything but,” he had neared you now and you sobered up. “I still hate you, you know.”

Your lips trembled and you looked down with a sour smile. You did realize it, but it didn’t make it any easier. “I know.”

You were focused on mapping your conversation and seeing if there was anything you could tell him that could clarify things when he scoffed.

“No, scratch that.” You looked up and saw him running his hand through his hair. “I fucking hate you and the way you just tried to bring me down to my knees again.”

“I didn’t—!”

“I hate that I brought you here 'cause I wanted to see you here, in my home, as if that could bring back what we once were. I hate that I gave you what you wanted even if it hurt. I hate that I called you bubbles as if you’re still that person. I hate— I fucking hate you, I can’t—”

His voice broke down but you had already heard too much. You couldn’t face him anymore, you were hiding under your hand as your spirit drained in the form of tears.

“I understand.” Your sight was blurry but you knew the way out. You stepped around him, “I’ll leave—”

You weren’t expecting him to grab you and crash his mouth into yours, but you didn’t fight him. You let him kiss you desperately and did the same all while the tears kept streaming down your face.

“Don’t fucking leave,” he whispered to your lips, pressing his forehead to yours. “I can’t stand the thought of you walking out. Not again.”

Your cry was uncontrollable, “But you hate me.”

His hands were firm around your head, not letting you move away, and the only sound you both could hear was you trying to control your sobs. It broke him to see you cry, it always did. He didn’t know what to do. No matter how hard he tried, there was this poison inside him that gushed out every time. It was all breaking apart again, and he wanted everything to go to hell, but looking at you, he knew that wasn’t true.

You sniffled, “If you hate me and I love you then we're not on the same page.”

His heart shook like his world could crumble at any moment. “Don't leave.”

“I have to,” you grabbed his arms and accepted it. “So you can find the woman of your dreams.”

“You’re the woman of my dreams.”

You chuckled sadly, “You hate me, Kook. You’ll find someone better, trust me.”

“No, I don’t want anyone else.”

You brushed his cheek, committing that sweet touch to memory. “You’ll be happy. It’s okay.”

“No,” he gripped you firmly, wrapping his arms around your waist instead. “Don’t leave.”

“Why would I stay?”

“Because I don’t hate you. I can’t,” his voice trembled with tears that didn’t flow down his cheeks, but down yours. “I hate myself for not being able to, for pretending, for even trying when I’m so—”

His voice blocked and you reached for him. “Say it… Please say it, don’t hold back,” your plea shook in your voice and you gripped his shoulders tighter. “If you don’t say it, then I won't know what to believe anymore—”

“Fuck,” he closed his eyes, fighting to the last moment all those conflicting emotions within him. But then you nuzzled his nose, holding him closer. Waiting. You weren’t leaving this time until everything was said and done, and he almost burst it out. “I can’t. I can’t hate you, I love you. I could never forget you but you left me behind and I fucking hated everything. Because I love you, because I lost you, because I was lost and I still am. What the fuck do I do?”

“I’m here.”

“No, you’re not.” He moved away and forced himself to take a deep breath. He turned to you, “You’ll walk out again. I fucked up. We fucked up, but I fucked up. Right? I spent a year trying to hate you, loathing myself for not being good enough. For being so sure you were the one while you discarded me so easily like I was worthless, but I never bothered to hear your side. I never bothered to ask you. You broke my heart… but I broke yours too.”

Your chin was trembling, but you didn’t near him. He seemed to need the space.

“I’m sorry.” He hid his face at your words and your tears treaded down again. “I’m so sorry if I hurt you, I was stupid and immature, and you’re right. I knew my heart was staying here with you, I should have tried to reach out and make it clearer. I knew I hurt you, and after I left, I knew you'd hate me. I should have gotten over myself and told you how I felt anyway. Then maybe I wouldn’t have tried to look for you in everyone else or stayed hung up on thoughts of you and—” He chuckled but it was laced with pain and you shook your hands, “No, I’m not blaming you!”

“I know,” he revealed his face, with red swollen eyes, and wet cheeks. “I’m blaming myself. I spent so long trying to hate you, blaming you for everything under the sun in stupid attempts to make it hurt less. I’m an idiot. And an asshole. Look at how I treated you. I can’t face you without hating my fucking stupidity—”

“Ours,” you stepped forward, hesitant to touch him but with your hands raised nonetheless. “If you want to hate something, then—”

He grabbed your hand and pulled you in, “I won’t pretend to hate you anymore.”

“Then don’t hate yourself either,” you asked as he took your hand to his lips.

“I’ll try… since it’s you asking.”

Your lips trembled into a smile at the way he was gently brushing his lips to your hand. “I’m happy we talked about it. I’m happy to hear that you still have feelings for me though I wouldn’t want to assume—”

“Assume.”

You stayed quiet, hesitantly looking into his brown eyes as he sprinkled kisses on your knuckles.

“Jungkook—”

“Assume, bubbles.” You pressed your trembling lips and he brushed your cheek with the back of his fingers, “Assume that I love you and don’t want you to leave.”

Your heart was shaking; you were hoping, but— “Are you sure?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, “I’m sure. I just don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t want to hurt you, but there’s so much we need to talk about.”

His eyes were pleading and you squeezed his hand, “If you could forgive me, that would be a great start.”

He sighed, “I don’t think that’s the problem.”

“Yourself?”

“Slightly more complicated.”

You smiled, “Same.” You stayed quiet just looking at each other when you decided to tell him, “I wish we could… forgive our mistakes and restart. We could get to know each other again. See if… If it would work.”

“You don’t think it would?”

You supported his hand on your cheek, “I think we still love each other.” He held your gaze and you felt your cheeks burning under his touch, “But maybe that also means it will be difficult to heal our wounds.”

He nodded calmly, observing your face. “Do you… hate me? For what I did? For never replying to you or fighting for you.”

“No,” you instantly reassured him. “I thought you made a decision and that you wanted to move on from me. That’s a rejection, but that's life. You didn’t cheat or lie or anything like that.”

He sighed, “That’s true… maybe that’s why I could never truly hate you either.”

You couldn’t help a smile, “We… We’re both idiots.”

He wrapped his arm around your waist closer, “A mistake. It was all a mistake.” He pursed his lips for a moment, then brushed your hair gently behind your ear, “Your ‘no’... you never meant forever?”

You grinned, “No. Though I don't need a ring around my finger to know who I belong to. Do you?”

“Who do you belong to?”

You smirked playfully, “I think you know him.”

He sighed and let you brush your fingers around his neck in an attempt to tickle him before lacing your arms around his neck.

“I would have waited,” he finally said, seeing closely how your smile wavered and your eyes filled with tears. “I couldn’t drop everything to go with you, but I would have definitely made it work and visited you whenever I could.”

Your lips trembled and you tried to contain your cry, but your tears won. He pulled you to hide in the crook of his neck and you squeezed him inside your arms.

“Are you… going back?” He realized he didn’t know. “Or are you staying? In Seoul?”

“I got a position here, I’m starting next month.”

He sighed in relief. “I want to try,” his voice was close as he supported your head and leaned over your ear. “Us. I want to try.”

Shivers ran down your spine as you pressed him to you. “Me too.”

[ddejavvu]

Just thinking about dbf! James walking in on r masturbating and she’s all like “James pls…” and he’s like “you called me?” And he’s all smug and teasing and r is a bit of a crybaby and apologizing but James is just like “what a naughty girl with her dirty little mind” LIKE ABSOLUTELY FERAL

this post is 18+, minors dni.

obvious cw for dbf/age gap, don't read if it'll make you uncomfortable.

The sound of the door opening is the absolute last thing you want to hear while two fingers are securely tucked into your cunt, but it swings open before you have time to withdraw them. You're laying beneath a blanket, but you doubt you look casual.

"Hey-!" You babble, voice strained as you try conjuring up some disgruntled remark. The man standing in the doorway knocks the breath out of your lungs, though, and you gape, "James?"

"That's my name," He muses, traipsing into your room like he's asking you what you want for dinner. You're frozen, shamefully so, and though your muscles tense as he walks forwards, you can't move any of your limbs. Shock has completely overtaken you, and you can't fight or flee.

"You were calling it just a minute ago," He continues, his steps slow and deliberately casual as he reaches the end of your bed, "Any reason?"

"No," You lie, but he's reaching for the corner of your bedcovers before you can stop him, and when he pulls them towards himself, they slide off of your obscene form.

"Ah," He nods in understanding, eyes fixed on your fingers frozen between the puffy lips of your glistening cunt, "That's why, isn't it, darling?"

"James," You whimper, and you're not sure whether you're pleading for him to leave you, to forget about this, or if you're pleading him to stay and watch.

"You wanted me to come help you, sweetheart?" He asks, lowering himself to perch on the end of your bed. The worst part of it all is your body's still stubborn insistence on staying right where it is, despite the mortification that seeps through your veins the longer you lay there frozen, laid out before him.

"Come here, let's see," He hums, reaching for your hand. His fingers ghost dangerously along the soft skin of your inner thighs, and he gently pulls your fingers out of your cunt.

You're close to tears.

You're almost paralyzed, you don't know why you can't move, why you can't leap from the bed and make a mad dash for the bathroom and beg him not to tell another living soul what he'd seen. But you remain frustratingly lax as he drags your hand up to his face, inspecting your slick-soaked digits.

"That won't do," He hums, frowning at the circumference of your fingers, "You need something bigger, don't you darling? Something better?"

"James-" Your mind seems to be stalling just the same as your limbs, his name the only thing you can repeat.

He holds your wrist, glancing away from your fingers to your face, "Can I help you, darling? Do you want my help?"

There's knots of nerves in your chest, their ends fraying until eventually they come apart and fill your body with a static haze. You want nothing more than his help, but that's a fantasy, that's something you can't have.

He kisses the skin of your wrist, letting your slick-soaked fingers brush a line against his cheek, leaving a glimmering trail behind them. Your lips part and you sigh, but it's not the answer he's looking for.

"Yes or no, darling? Can I help you?"

Your heart wins out over your head, or maybe it's your pussy doing the talking, but the word 'yes' escapes your mouth before you can consider the ramifications it might bring. He grins, so bright and soft that it feels like the sun's gentle rays, and you feel its heat when he parts his lips to suck your fingers into his mouth. His spit is warm and slick as he sucks your fingers clean, and you watch them glisten with his saliva in the low light of your bedroom when he draws them out to murmur, "That's a good girl. Just let me help you, you won't ever have to use your fingers again, sweetheart."

[mae-gi-writes]

rile you up | lee Minho (xo kitty)

You’re Minho’s latest form of entertainment and he cannot just get enough of riling you up.

Genre: romcom, slice of life, school!au, minho is a little dick

———

“Fuck you, Minho.”

“What a ray of sunshine you are on this fine day.”

You grit your teeth together, almost grind them to nothing, and repeat the words with even more conviction, “I said fuck you.”

”Watch that tongue sunshine, might fall out if you’re not careful,” Minho’s grin just widens at the way your eyes have narrowed into slights. If looks could kill, he would’ve been shot int he head twice, revived, and shot once again. But thankfully for him, your narrow-eyed stare is nothing scarier than a cute kitten ready to take her claws out.

It’s a boring, rainy and muddy Wednesday afternoon and you really don’t want to be here, in English Lit, listening to professor Lau drone on and on about love and friendship in the verses of Lord Byron’s poems and how, if you read in-between the lines and analyze the intonations, the words, the onomatopieas, you’ll find a much deeper definition of Lord Byron’s feelings.

And Minho sitting right beside you is not making it much easier.

“You’ve got a pimple growing on your left cheek,” Minho squints at your face as you turn away, cupping your face with your hands as your eyes find the lock tick, tick, ticking at the far end of the classroom. Thirty more minutes of this torture.

“Can you just stop hyper-analyzing me like I’m some kind of lab rat?I’m really not in the mood for this right now.” You snap back.

“Woah,” Minho sighs before he shakes his head, “you really did wake up on the wrong side of the bed today.”

“And you, my friend, need to mind your own business.”

“Minho and Y/N.”

Professor Lau’s voice causes both of them to wince, physically, before looking up to see the said old man with bespectacled glasses, the book of poems in his hand and his eyebrows raised as though he expected better.

If you’re being honest, you really do enjoy Professor Lau’s classes, normally. Normally.

But not today. Today, you’re having a completely off day. You woke up late, you couldn’t sleep at all last night, and all the coffee had run out by the time you’d made it to campus. Your grades are suffering and you’re currently trying to ploughing through all the assignments without drowning.

And the worst of it all, you miss home.

You miss your mom. You miss your family, your brother with whom you would fight with at every occasion and play Mario kart with. You missed your grandma, your aunts, the food they cooked, the shared laughter, the smiles…

You’re in so deep in your thought process that you haven’t even registered that Professor Lau is telling you off until he calls for your name that brings you back to attention.

“—yes?” Your eyes flit up to Professor Lau’s and a wave of emotion suddenly takes its toll on you. You try hard to blink back the sudden burn of tears at the corner of your eyes, crawling up your throat.

“I was expecting better of your behaviour, miss Y/N,” he says, pointedly looking between you and Minho with pursed lips, “in my office after class. You’re up for cleaning duty.”

Great. That’s exactly what you need. After everything.

Fucking. Great.

———

“These pretty hands cannot clean,” these are Minho’s first words as the rest of the class files out to leave you two alone on cleaning duty and as you had predicted, there are papers all over the place, test papers and pens and pencils, “I’ve taken care of my hands all these years. I am not ruining it just to clean a classroom.”

“You are so freaking dramatic,” you roll your eyes, standing up to find the cleaning supplies that are stacked at the back of the class, in the storage closet, “let’s just get this over with and we can both move on with our lives and I won’t have to see you again for the rest of this week.”

“What’s up your arse, dude?” Minho follows you, one hand leaning on the doorframe as you start pulling out the duster, the cleaning rags and the shiny new broom that Professor Lau is currently obsessed with, “you’ve been acting really weird.”

“What?” You scoff, proceeding to hand him the broom because you know he’s never going to be the one on his hands and knees cleaning the floors, “I’m not. I’m just tired.”

“No, you’ve been acting off all week. You’re all snappy, your dark circles are so prominent you look like a walking zombie and you keep asking me to go fuck myself,” Minho rolls his eyes, “also, how do you use this?”

“Jesus chri—“ you make a move towards him, grabbing the hand holding the broom while struggling to circle his back and grabbing the other, “you keep that thing steady, then you brush the dirt from this one—“ you grip his hand and shuffle it over the floor in a sweeping motion, “until it goes into the pan. Got it?”

It's only then you realize the warmth emanating from Minho's back. If you move a little closer, you could press your cheek against him. He smells like something citrus and fresh mint and man.

Somehow, it makes goosebumps explode all over your skin. You step back abruptly, noting the heat searing through your palms where you had touched him just as he turns to face you, "you seem to be a natural at this. Why don't you do it?"

"I'm gonna take care of the floors," you're glad for the distraction that comes in the form of the rag, for there's a knot of heat in the middle of your chest and you're not quite sure how to deal with it, "let's just get this over with."

There's a long moment of silence as both of you focus on your tasks, which helps to calm down your nerves. Somehow, the sound of Minho's brush is conforting to hear.

Until he speaks up, "so you're gonna tell me what's wrong?"

"Why should I tell you, of all people?"

"Because there's nobody else around and seeing you all mopey makes me actually feel bad for you."

You wipe off the dusty corner by the teacher's desk, "Do you have any ounce of decency in you somewhere?"

"Not when you're involved," Minho snickers.

You whip around, throw the balled-up rag at him and smirk in satiafaction when it hits him square in the head, "ow--what the fuck, Y/N?!"

Glad that you managed to piss him off, you turn and continue, "oops sorry. My hand slipped."

It's not ultimately Minho's fault that you're more anxious, more easily irritated than usual. So you can't really take it out on him. But he doesn't make it any easier either.

Thankfully, the rest of the cleanup goes smoothly as butter and he parts ways with the excuse that he needs to go find his aupposed lunch date, to which you merely rolles your eyes and headed for the dining hall alone.

It doesn't normally bother you to be alone. On the contrary, you relish in those silent moments of freedom without having to hear an earful from Kitty and Q, or having Yuri complain about yet another one of her life's family miseries.

But as you find a vacant seat by the door, you can't help but suddenly feel a little small in a room full of people who seem to be right where they should be. And something in your heart constricts and clenches so hard it causes a soft sob to die at the back of your throat.

You grip your spoon a little tighter and bite down so hard on your lip that you feel the tangy taste of blood.

It feels lonely.

------

You're kind of sick.

Not physically sick.

Just sick of hearing christmas carols ringing all over campus. Sick of smelling hot chocolate in the air, sick of seeing luggages being dragged on vacation.

Sick of being here.

For an international student, returning home for Christmas was never an option. The airplane ticket is too expensive for your familt to afford, and you wouldn't ever impose that on them. But if you had to admit to that selfish part of you; you wished you were privileged enough to get to fly out at every chance you got.

Alas, that is not the kind of life that you live.

So when the doorbell rings at seven-thirty in the morning on Christmas Eve, you're more than surprised to find none other than Minho standing by your door with his hands in his pockets.

"Wh--Yeah? What do you want?" You frown upon noticing the lack of luggage behind him. Knowing Minho, he packed like a diva.

He hums and peeks inside your flat, causing you to shuffle into his peripheral vision, "what do you want Minho?"

"You're not packed."

"Wise observation, smartass."

He brushes past you and strides inside, taking his shoes off casually by the door, "why not?"

"None of your business."

He throws you an exasperated look, "you gonna keep being like this?"

"I don't know, are you gonna keep annoying the hell out of me?"

He can't help the grin that spreads over his face at that, "you're fun to mess around with."

"Well for your information, it's not fun. Not for me," you don't hesitate to walk over before grabbing onto his arm and tugging over to the door, "really. I'm fine. Now leave."

"I'm surprised you're not going home for Christmas," he continues as you're pushing him out of the door.

It stings, "why?"

"International kids usually do," he folds his arms, proceeds to lean into the open doorway and you got another whiff of his scent, "what? Daddy didn't want to pay for you this time?"

"My dad died. Two years ago."

There's surprise first, that flashes through his eyes. Then realization slowly dawns.

There’s some kind of weight in your chest. Like your heart has just broke.

"What?" You laugh but it's dry and twisted, "cat got your tongue? Too shocked to speak? Poor little Y/N, who doesn't have a father to pay off her credit card bills, right?"

"I didn't know--"

"Of course you didn't. You never asked."

"I'm--" he swallows, looks away, "—sorry."

You scoff, "don't. It's okay. I've been over it for the past two years."

It's not what he says but rather the way he looks at you that makes your insides shrivel up with dread and fear and the idea that he'll never look at you the same way ever again.

Because the thing is, no matter how much Mjnjo teases you, bullies you into oblivion, you do enjoy the attention, the banter. It's almost as if it's better than just being ignored altogether.

And amidst all his teasing and his annoying personaity, there are bite and smidges of Minho's kindness smattered in-between, flecks of tenderness that makes your heart soar, your brrath

To have such a man look down at you, pity you, makes you want to be sick.

"Y/N--" you cut him off before he can even try to make it up to you, "it's fine, Minho. Just drop it--"

"Wha--I said I was sorry, don't give me that look--"

"I said drop it!" You swerve around on him, anger bubbling from deep within your chest as blood pulses through, rushes through you, "for one goddamn second, can you just leave me alone?! I don’t need this—this constant bullying of your part! It’s tiring and it’s just so goddamn frustrating and humiliating so will you just stop?!”

The shocked silence that follows your sudden outburst is heavy. If the tension had been thick before, it’s now so hard you can barely cut it with a knife. You try to regulate your staccato breaths, try not to let your body take over your mind as you focus on breathing in, breathing out, breathing in. Breathing out. Just like that.

Calm. Like water. Like you’re a river that never stops.

“Just go, Minho,” your words are bitter. You can barely look his way, an overwhelming surge of irritation, guilt and hurt swimming through you.

Thankfully, the young man seems just as surprised as you are and leaves without even a backward glance. That’s when you finally cave in and allow your legs to crumble to your floor. Pressing your head against the door, your body instantly gives into the sadness that crumbles through you like used up tissue, soaking in all the tears that are suddenly cascading down your cheeks without restraint.

You cry yourself to sleep that night.

———

“Minho, I’m really sorry about my behaviour.”

You stare.

Your reflection stares back.

Shit. This doesn’t feel right. You close your eyes, exhale a soft breath, and open them once more only to find a set of familiar brown eyes gazing back at you.

It’s just the day after Christmas and though the majority of your friends were still off campus, you’re well aware that a certain Korean young man has decidedly stayed back because of his mother’s offshoot shooting commercial.

However, you still hadn’t gotten the guts to go back and ask him for a formal apology yet. Did you even need one when he’d been the one prodding you with a stick like he would with a nest of aggressive bees?

Oh well. You decided you’d be the bigger person and make the first move. As always.

So you look back to your reflection with renewed determination, take a deep breath before forcing the words out, “I am really sorry for my shitty behaviour, Minho, I should’ve—no,” you shake your head, start again and clasp your hands together for good measure, “I’m really sorry if I offended you in any way, I was hurt—no. God. I sound so pathetic.” You can’t help but curse at the mirror.

Inhale. Exhale. Deep breath. And you try once more, this time adding a small smile.

“I’m really sorry for everything that I said. I was being a bit insensitive and wasn’t in the right headspace—“ you break off with a frustrated snarl, “god! Why is it so hard to apologize to the dude?!”

“The dude’s standing right here.”

Shocked, you swivel around only to find none other than the said question in person leaning against your doorway, eyebrows raised and a semblance of a smirk lining his lips.

“M—Minho,” you feel like slapping yourself for sounding like a stuttering goldfish. Quickly, your hands smooth down your sweater, hiding them in the big bell sleeves as your eyes find everything — anything, to get off his face, “what—what are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you, actually.”

“Why?”

You’re still not looking, deciding that the faint crack in your dorm room is much more interesting.

Minho’s footsteps approach as he strides close, close enough that you get a whiff of his expensive cologne and restrain yourself from sighing out loud.

The bastard smells too good, you feel like crying.

“Why?” He scoffs, “isn’t it obvious?”

“Not really.”

“Alright. Fine,” you’re still not looking at him, which is why you almost jump out of your skin the moment you feel the gentlest graze of his fingertips at your jaw.

“Wha—“ you stutter, eyes flashing up to his on instinct.

Dark brown meets swirls of maroon. You almost lose your breath.

In the mid-morning light with sunshine falling over half of his face, Minho looks like he’d just walked out of some fashion magazine.

“What are you…doing?” You manage to murmur out. Barely.

It’s hard to concentrate when he’s right there, in your personal space, looking a little too dashing for his own good.

“You’re right. I was being a selfish dick to you two days ago,” his grip on your chin is firm, his dark eyes even firmer, “so I’m sorry if you took it the wrong way.”

You laugh, “wait—is Minho actually apologizing? To me?”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“But this is a legendary moment,” you fake a mocking gasp at him, “I should record this right now.”

“Don’t make me regret it, Y/N.”

Chuckling, your eyes crinkle up as you allow yourself to roam over his features, “okay okay, I’ll stop.”

Minho fidgets and doesn’t say anything back. Weird, considering that he has a comeback for everything. You feel his hand drop from your chin as he takes a step back, lips pressed together and face looking like he’s uncomfortable being here.

Do you make him uncomfortable? It’s not a sight you’re used to seeing. Something tugs at your heartstrings but you try and ignore it.

“What is it?” You ask instead.

“There is…” his eyes dart away, “something I need to tell you.”

“About?”

His hand drops. Instantly, cold swoops in.

“About me. And you.”

You squint, “Minho I swear, if this is one of your stupid jokes again—“

“I like you.”

You blink.

He gazes back. His eyes. They’re gazing straight at you. Focused. Intense. Hot.

So hot it causes a flame to burst in your chest.

Wait…your mind backtracks, what?

“You—“ your mouth opens. Closes. Opens once more, "I'm sorry--what?"

His eyes answer in his stead. Dark orbs swirling with a depth that makes your skin explode in goosebumps. You realize, all too soon, how close you are, how -- if you want -- you can diminish the space between just with one single step forward.

"I like you," he says it honestly. Somehow, you relish in the way he says it. Clear and transparent. No inside games, no beating around the bush, "maybe more than a little."

You sense a but. "And?"

He rolls his eyes, "and maybe I just don't know how to show it."

"You mean, acting like a five year old boy who bullies his crush for fun because he likes her?"

"Something like that."

"Okay," you drag out the word in hopes that it will hide the way your heart suddenly skips a beat, the way your legs feel weaker at the knees, "so what--what now?"

"Well, that's the part where you tell me you like me back--" Minho catches himself upon seeing you raise a brow at him, "--or not. Your choice, your rules, doll."

Doll? You can feel the flame bursting through your chest and squeezing your heart. It aches so much it hurts, though it seems that your smile can't help tugging at the corners of your lips as you watch him and despite his seeming nonchalance about the whole matter, there's the slightest sheen of pink that gives him away.

Cute. Your brain chants.

"Well," you tilt your chin up in what you hope is a confident manner, "you normally take a girl out to dinner first."

"Is that a yes?" Minho smirks.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, yes I heard alright. Fine," he sighs and crosses his arms over his chest, "tomorrow night. Dinner. Be ready by six. I'll pick you up."

"Tomorrow? But wait I--"

"You better be there, doll."

And with that, he swivels on his feet and walk away while whistling a soft tune, leaving your heart flooded with a tide of mixed emotions that erupt through your chest and butterflies running along your skin.

---

Minho: I'll come pick you up by six. Be ready then. Wear something cute but casual. Nothing fancy.

Y/N: i like how you're telling me how to dress up when you're the one who's supposes to be wooing me.

Minho: oh you don't have to worry about that.

The way he replies so smoothly has goosebumps running along the back of your neck and you squeeze your hands into fists. You're still sitting on your bed, trying to digest all this new information as another flurry of messages burst through your phone, probably fron Kitty's latest reaction your news.

Kitty: what?! Minho?! And you?! He asked you out?!!! Omg how did I not see this coming!!!

Y/N: i thought you were a matchmaker.

Kitty: well YEAH before he went and ruined it!!! Anyway, what are you WEARING?!

Y/N: i have absolutely no idea. He said something cute but casual, so I'm guessing there's not gonna be any fancy dinners or anything.

Kitty: omg!! Minho and casual doesn't sound right. Maybe he really is trying to woo you!!

Y/N: should I wear shorts? Pants? A skirt?

Kitty: definitely no pants. Maybe that cute skater skirt you wore to Yuri's party last semester?

So you do. The skirt's baby blue colour contrasts well with the simple white tshirt you decided to wear with it, and throwing on a beige cardigan and some white sneakers complete the look. You add a small blue bow into your hair to match, and take one last look at yourself in hopes that you're looking exactly how Minho wants you to--

No. That's the wrong way to go about it. Minho likes you. Yes. You. Not the girls he's always so uses to seeing. You don't have to impress him.

That’s how you meet him right outside your door, with your newly-found resolve as you catch the simple white tee and ripped jeans, hair styled just the way he likes it, just enough to make every woman’s heart swoon.

His eyes do a once-over, “not bad, Y/N. You clean up nice.”

“Not bad?” You scoff, “I’m sure there are much better adjectives to use.”

He grins, “we’ll see.”

Minho brings you over to the Han river by electric scooter, with you standing in front and holding on to the handlebars as he guides you across the street even though it’s technically illegal for people to do such a thing. But with the wind in your hair and Minho’s warmth at your back, you don’t find yourself complaining.

“Han river?” You raise a brow at him as he parks and pays for his e-scooter ride, “really? So cliche.”

“The Han River is a classic,” he looks at you pointedly, “and I’ll have you know, I’ve never brought anyone here before.”

“Ooh, does that mean anything?” You wriggle your brows and he scoffs, looks away, “shut up.”

You weren’t expecting him, of all people, to be a fan of romantic gestures such as this. But when he parks his scooter in favor of walking alongside you by the trail — even with his multiple complaints about the dirt being too dirty and people needing to revisit their wardrobe fashion — you can’t help but wonder how much effort he’s putting into just being with you. Because knowing Minho, walking on crushed grass and having his shoes in dirt is quite a big deal.

“Look, do you want to be swooned or not?” He replies when you ask him the question, even looks offended that you’d dared ask such a thing, “I thought girls loved it when boys brought them here.”

“Yes I know that,” your grin is so wide that you’re surprised it hasn’t broken your face in two yet, “and don’t get me wrong. I love it, but I never thought you—of all people — would bring me here, of all places. It’s just not…”

“Not what?” He scowls.

“Just not you,” you confess, and then, seeing that his frown seems to take a permanent fixture on his face, you quickly add, “so the fact that you’re doing it…thanks. It means…something. You know?”

Heat springs through your cheeks at the sudden confession and you quickly look away, anywhere, but not before glancing at Minho to see that he has a faint smile dancing across his lips.

As the evening wears on, you get to talk about everything and anything; from worries about your future and the rigorous routine of adult life, about which game box is better and which restaurant serves the best korean noodles, which Minho argues does not exist, considering that every single noodle joint in Seoul is a pro in making them.

"We're the city of noodles and gimbap, obviously there's more than one good noodle stop."

"You speak like someone who hasn't tasted Uncle Cha's food yet. You know, the snack from across the road to campus."

Minho's nose wrinkles, "nah I'm good--"

"Oh no you don't," you grab onto his arm before he has a chance to run away, "nu-uh. Let's go get them right now, actually."

Surprisingly awed by Cha's cuisine, Minho has no other choice than to grumble out a faint agreement. It's no secret that it makes your day.

"But the environment--" Minho shudders, "I think I saw a cockcroach scuttling about in there."

“Oh yeah,” you let your eyes follow the wall and trail back up to him, pointing at his face, “there’s one.”

Shoving you playfully, he pulls out his tongue in such a childish manner you can’t help but burst out laughing.

You decide to take the walk back along the Han River even if it makes a detour, stopping by a coffee shop to grab some hot chocolate. The city lights now illuminate the city like stars scraping the earth’s surface and you can’t help but feel amazed by how beautiful the scenery is, with the wind trickling through your hair and soft music from busking sessions in the background.

“I’ve never actually walked along the Han River before,” you confess to him as you gaze down at the black waters sloshing against the river edge, “thanks, Minho.”

He has the look of a satisfied five year old child who got a gold star for his best behaviour, “you’re welcome.”

“Who knew you’d be the one to bring me here?” You jostle his shoulder playfully before taking a sip of your hot chocolate.

“What’s that you’re implying?” He frowns.

“That you’ve surprised me and my expectations.”

“And that’s supposed to be a compliment?” He looks horrified and dramatic, “you’re harsh, Y/N. I’ll have you know, I haven’t—“ he stops himself just in time for you to swoop in and push, “yeah? You haven’t what?”

“Nevermind,” he sips his own drink and you notice the way his ears have turned red.

You giggle, “tell me, have you gone on dates before?”

“Wha—of course I have! What kind of question is that?!” You keep on laughing and laughing at his face, shaking your head as you try and muffle your chuckles the best you can, “oh god—oh my god, you never have. It’s written all over your face—“

“You talk too much,” he mutters into his drink and turns away from you, ears as red as a fire engine.

You nudge him, smiling, loving that side of him that he’s never really shown anyone before. Because you all know the cool, confident Minho. But this, this side of Minho is uncharted territory.

And you’re all here for it.

“Why not, though?”

His eyes narrow as he looks back at you, “what?”

“Why haven’t you brought anyone out before?’ You fidget with your cup, glad that it’s warming your hands so you can busy yourself with something, “because I’ve seen you, with different types of girls. All the time—“

“Yeah that didn’t mean anything.”

“But you still went out with them.”

“Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?”

“What?” Heat flushes through you, “no, I just—“

That’s when you feel it. His hand, fluttering up to yours. He pries your hold from your cup gently before bringing it down between you, fingers entangling with yours like they’re meant to be there in the first place.

And when your eyes flutter to lock onto his, there’s liquid warmth in those pools of brown, a tenderness you’ve seldom seen before.

“This is new too,” he murmurs then, “all of this.”

Your heart skips a beat. There are no words to be said.

You swallow thickly, look away, and don’t miss the soft chuckle that falls from his lips as he keeps swinging your hands back and forth between you, his smile a permanent fixture on his face. One that your lips mirror faintly as you keep walking back towards your dorms in comforting silence.

———

“Was that romantic enough for you?”

Minho’s question is met with a chuckle from your part as you finally reach your dormitory. A few stray students are still studying deep into the night, some already asleep on the deep blue couches in the common room as you make your way through, hands still entertained from earlier.

Your heart has been skipping and rollerblading into ecstasy ever since.

“Hmm,” you hum, even tilting your head in thought, “guess so. Though if I had any complaints—“

“You wouldn’t tell me, because there aren’t any,” Minho finishes for you, “right?”

“Oh i have plenty, but I’ll keep it for another time,” you flash him a mischievous smile. You’ve reached your corridor by that time, your words causing Minho to shoot you a suggestive look.

“another time?” He repeats with a cock of his brow.

You bite your lip and look away to avoid the fact that there’s a faint, yet growing smile on your face, “yeah. Maybe.”

The said young man’s lips pulls into a small smile, “I can work with that.” He murmurs, and something warm pools in the middle of your chest.

It’s hard to control yourself around Minho especially when he’s not being a little shit. Because the fact is; he’s very enticingly charming and likable.

“Well, that’s me,” you’ve reached your door then, glad that for once your dorm room is free of activity since both your roommates have gone home for the Christmas season, and turn towards Minho.

“Thanks you, for tonight,” your cheeks are warm with heat but you can’t resist grinning up at him, “I had more fun than expected.”

Minho sucks in a dramatic breath, “wow. I think i finally got a compliment out of your mouth.”

“Trust me, that’s me being nice.”

“I know,” he flashes a grin at you and before you know it, his arm has gone up to press against the doorway, caging you in and suddenly making you feel smaller than you are already. His body heat rolls into you in waves, the scent of his boyish cologne making you dizzy as your body leans into him unconsciously.

“So,” he breathes. He’s so close, so close that if you move just a little, your noses would brush, “since I’ve taken you out on a date, do I get to kiss you now?”

Air stills in your lungs. Your teeth find your lower lip.

“It depends,” your whisper is so soft he barely catches it, too enthralled by the way your mouth curves and moves with the words, “will you take me out again?”

“If her highness wishes,” Minho chuckles, tilting his head so that your noses brush. Electricity zaps through your body, goosebumps raising at the back of your neck, “I’ll take you wherever you want.”

Your eyes lock. There’s warmth, want. Desire swimming through his own pools of brown.

“Sounds like a promise,” you breathe, “so when will that—“

“Y/N.”

The way he says your name has a knot tightening in your stomach. Your body tenses in anticipation.

He’s gazing at you as if he’s only just seeing you. His lips are so close, you can feel his breaths on your lips. Hot against cold. He smells divine.

You’re so lost in your own daydream that you respond a few seconds late, “y-yeah?”

“Do me a favor?”

One hand cradles your cheek. You freeze.

“Hm?”

“Stop talking.”

And before you can do anything else, his mouth presses against yours.

Fireworks explode. Behind your eyelids. Through your body. Blood races and your brain goes fuzzy with want and desire as Minho’s other hand wraps around your waist to tug you in, his other hand clasping your jaw firmly as he kisses you. Once. Twice. He’s a good kisser, yet so gentle and tentative.

You’re taken by surprise for a few seconds, before you finally melt into him and kiss him back. A sigh escapes you as your hands go up to wrap around his neck, and the groan of satisfaction he lets out makes your entire nerves buzz with delight.

Tilting his head to the side to kiss you deeper, longer, you let out a gasp against his mouth as he pulls you even closer still, as if he can’t get enough of you. You haven’t realized you’re pressed to the door until your back meets the hard wood underneath and you yelp softly at the way his tongue swipes over your bottom lip to ask for entrance.

He kisses you softly, yet so firmly as if you’re the only thing keeping him alive, satiated. His hand at your hip moves up, tracing the back of your spine, the side of your rib cage before brushing against the corner of your bra and making you squirm while your hands curl into his hair. You tug, causing a grumble to echo out of Minho’s chest. His tongue darts in and you part for him like melted butter so that he can kiss you and ravage you without restraint.

Everything falls away, with only Minho being your anchor. You smell him, feel him against you, and want nothing else other than the dizzying rush that makes your stomach erupt with fireflies.

Your mouths part with a pop and he takes this chance to nip at your jaw, littering kisses down your neck before suckling on a soft patch of skin. Your body reacts instantly, curving into him as your lips part in a soft, minuscule moan. That’s enough to snap him back to attention.

He gazes up at you, chest heaving and all heavy breaths. His lips are swollen and red and just so beautiful. Hair tousled like he’s just tumbled out of bed and you quickly decide that’s the look you love best on him.

The curfew bell sounds and he curses.

“Minho,” you murmur when he leans in, noses brushing to capture your lips into his once more. You sigh, eyes falling shut as he takes your next set of words away.

It’s almost as if he’s drunk on you, as if he just can’t get enough.

The thought makes you shiver. Your heart swells with emotion.

“Minho,” you murmur once more against his lips. He groans, pulls away onto to bury his face into your neck and humming, “yeah?”

“Curfew’s in two minutes.”

“I know,” he’s pressing open-mouthed kisses over your collarbone and you can’t help but whimper and cradling his head closer to you despite trying to make sense of your thoughts.

“Y—You should go,” you stutter out but it’s almost like you’re talking to yourself. He’s clearly in his own world, suckling onto your skin and leaving purple marks to claim you as his. He pulls away, groaning appreciatively at the sight you make.

“Do I really have to go?” His dark eyes — darker than you’ve ever seen them — flickers over your features. There’s a kind of hunger to them that makes you shiver.

“Yes,” you stammer out, heart almost bursting out of your chest when the boy merely tugs you close before he rests his head atop yours. He holds you, breaths you in, and your eyes close on their own accord, taking in the moment like it’s the last.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” his whisper grazes the shell of your ear and you shiver. He pulls back and there’s the kind of crooked smile that makes your heart tighten, “goodnight, Y/N.”

“Good night, Minho,” you murmur and dropping a last kiss atop your temple, you watch him walk away, raising a salute with his hand as he does so.

———

A/N: GAHHH IDK WHAT I WROTE AND I GAVE UP AT THE END I HOPE IT’S ALRIGHT BUT ANYWAY I’VE BEEN OBSSESSED WITH MINHO THESE DAYS.

[dxtreza]

⋆｡°✩ nxx-ray; artem, marius, vyn, luke (tot)

⋆ summary: what've they got going on down there? ⋆ xtra: afab mc, nsfw under the cut! first upload, so excited. reqs open in ask box; fandoms are in bio ⋆ wc: 1.7k (includes drabble under artem's hc)

i. artem wing

tbh i think he'd be pretty insecure because mc his canonically his first true experience with romance, concerned about his size even though he knows it's irrational; from hearing what marius gossips about artem probably thinks he's below average. he'll learn through your reassurance that this is not the case. he's literally the goldilocks zone. he's not insanely big, but still above average. i'd say about 5.6 inches and tilts slightly upward (6.0 measuring with the curve), ranges from about 5 to 5.5 inch girth (2.5 inch diameter). tip has a complete ridge, his skin is of a slightly darker shade than the rest of his body. he's pretty too, smooth moisturized skin with a thick vein on the bottom. really really sensitive head and balls- won't admit it but he loves it when you smooth your palm on them. it's reactive, too- his cock jumps and twitches at the slightest bit of arousal. as for hygeine: kempt, but not obsessively so. i don't think he'd have that much body hair, but he likes to keep a bit of a happy trail and a small tuft of hair at the base of his cock.

"artem... what's got you so serious?" you ask quietly, paying attention to the way that his sighs have stopped. his lips have pulled themselves in a tight line, brows furrowed as he nearly scowls off into the distance. at your words he clears his throat, rubbing the small of your back with his thumbs and shaking his head slightly. he seems to have lost his enthusiasm now that you guided him out of the pitch darkness of his study and into the lamplight of his room, awkwardly sliding under the covers. his response comes slowly as he thinks.

"it's fine, just nervous." he says curtly, reaching for the lamp to turn it off. you swat his hand away, grabbing it and making a move with your free hand to cup the bulge in his black briefs. he shudders when he feels your breath on his neck, free hand wrapping around your waist to pull you closer as you whisper. "you're absolutely sure? nothing to do with the fact that i can see you now?"

he gulps at this, turning his head away and nodding once. "i... it's just different than your hand in the car, or under the desk in my study. in the regard that i can see that you see me, i mean." there's a shaky undertone to his voice, and the end of his sentence lilts as if there were a question on his tongue. "i'm not sure who you've had before, but i might not be able to compare in some respects."

it's confusing at first- he's big, why would he be thinking this sort of thing? you've held him in both your mouth and hand before, felt the weight of him and the way he can reach the back of your throat. he's not joking by the looks of it, a blush high on his cheeks with his admittance. "can you let me disprove that, baby?" you ask, and he's already reaching for lube from the bedside table. he hesitates for a condom, but remembers you're both clean. artem warms the lube on his hand before rubbing it along your entrance, seething to himself when you pull his cock free from his boxers.

you're already prepped from when he had you on his thigh in the study, but looking at him in the light, you would need to be stretched a bit. he's shaking now as you assess him, mouth pulled taught at the corners and gaze wavering. artem eases a bit when you guide his middle and ring finger to push into you, though he seems puzzled. you sigh when he curls his hand, leaning into his neck to answer his confused gaze. "you're not gonna fit unless we do this."

bit by bit, he's relaxing, and you tap his wrist for him to pull his fingers out of you. he blushes when he brings them up to his mouth, cautiously tasting you and looking towards your eyes for approval. you meet him with a kiss, giving him a few quick pumps before easing his head in. he moans into your mouth at this, eyelashes fluttering as his hands come to rest against your hips.

the more you take him, the more noises spill from him. its intoxicating, breaking him bit by bit as his nails dig into the soft flesh of your sides and trace circles against your spine. you grab his chin, directing his face to look down where you two join. you're nearly seated fully against him, with still half an inch to take. his hips go slightly rigid when you whimper, and then it clicks in his brain that you need help with the rest. any doubt he had quickly falls away when you whine against his cheek, grasping at the sheets under him as he slowly shifts his hips up.

artem can't help but to cry out pathetically when he's fully inside, sheathed snugly just in front of your cervix. the noise spills from his plush lips, breaking at the end when you squeeze slightly. "feel how tight that is baby? you're a perfect fit..." you coo to him, interlacing one of your hands with his and brushing the hair out of his face as you sit up. he shifts with you, sliding against the headboard so he could still press your chest to his while you rode him.

"not gonna... last." he bites out the moment you start to move, enveloping your mouth in a heated kiss. it's unlike the chaste ones you usually receive, this time fueled by some deep desire artem had never previously expressed. he meets your hips with a thrust, causing you to choke on your air and whine into his skin. he's stuttering now, unable to make any coherent phrases other than please and oh my god. it's cute in a way, until he's got you right there with him and you're unable to control the way your head buzzes and your eyelids twitch when he's stimulating you so desperately.

"artem-!" it comes out in a shriek, and in your last moments of coherence you shove your tongue into his mouth and bear down with a tight squeeze around his cock. he groans as his hips stall and buck up one final time, trying to thrust through his orgasm with weak sighs and whimpers. it's not long before he's detaching from you, checking your body for bruises and whining when he has to pull you off of him. it seems he had a lot to give; his cum drips down the inside of your thigh and he grimaces at the sight, feeling guilty for the mess.

you heave, rubbing your head as you come down from the high he gave you so easily. "i've never... you know, that fast." you mumble, and he's already scooping you up to carry you to the bathroom with a worried expression. He looks down when you cup his cheek in your hand, lips parted slightly. "seriously, you're just right, that was the best i've ever had."

it's nearly uncomfortable to say, but worth it when his face turns beet red and he sputters for what to say, sitting you down on the counter and wrapping his arms around you as he breathes a wish to you, one that you're more than happy to grant. "please tell me you'll be the only i ever have."

ii. marius von hagen

knows he's got a good dick. constantly showing you his hands and making it a point that his ring finger is longer than his pointer finger; weird mentality about it, the aforementioned reason artem thinks anything below 6.5 inches is below average- marius seems to think so. almost too big, so much so that it's unrealistic. he's 7.5 inches long and doesn't curve, and a solid 6 inch girth (3 inch diameter). his tip has more of a shallow ridge, and his skin is a few shades darker than the rest of his body. not particularly sensitive unless you press down on his frenulum or very lightly drag your nail where his cock meets his v-line. he's not very veiny, has two prominent ones that branch off. i think marius would also be fairly hygienic, but he has more body hair than artem. he keeps a happy trail as well, and grooms but doesn't really shave that much except to maintain a uniform shape/direction of the hair. he knows it can be a turn off for some people, so just ask and he'll wax everything off.

iii. vyn richter

he's not too privy to what marius loves to spout about himself. doesn't really care for comparison that much; why should he when you're the only one who will see? he can comfortably make you feel good- he doesn't have to split you open to do it. if anything, he's elegant. definitely the most aesthetically pleasing out of all the boys lol. I'd say about 5.4 inches, with a 4.5 inch girth (2.2 inch diameter). extremely veiny, also the most sensitive because of it. they're not very pronounced, just slightly raised off the skin. as for the color, it's the same as his body, with a dusty pink tip; full ridge. i also think he's uncut. also very hygienic. always smells of balm and herbal oil, and routinely shaves clean. he's not too fond of any body hair really, and likely won't grow it out if you ask him. he doesn't care if you have any, though.

iv. luke pearce

another one that doesn't care too much about marius' words, mainly because he thinks that he's joking. slightly below average, but knows how to use it. he's not small by any means, still sizing in at around 4.6 inches. luke has above average girth, though, peaking just below his tip at 5.4 inches. he's curved to the left a little bit, but not enough to notice. a few small veins, but he doesn't have much reaction to you touching them- he's most sensitive when you're giving attention to his slit; just a few seconds is enough to make him practically scream. slightly darker than his body, with a pink tip. hygienic... ish. don't get me wrong, he'll never smell bad or be unclean. he just doesn't pay that much attention to his hair, it's more fun if he gets to watch you do his grooming for him.

[yiiyiiwrites]

🗡️ | Relics and Ruins | 3 |

Part Three [series masterlist]

summary: you're a mender in the dawn court, tasked with fixing cursed and broken relics. Azriel x dawn court reader

2318words, not edited and wrote on my phone so might be some errors

The in-between moments of winnowing was always something you never got used to. You could never stick the landing doing it yourself, a tangled mess of limbs as you bring Eris down with you. He rose, straightening his long velvet overcoat, smoothing the creases from his trousers.

Golden rays of light bathed the marbled floors, veiled drapes fluttering between columns opening up to the dawn courts balcony. A summoning platform, the only place that allowed Eris to enter without an invitation.

Your court suited the autumn general, long red hair glimmering in the sun as if it too were made of fire. His skin a tad pale, you wondered what a month in the dawn court would do to his complexion.

There was never much space between the two of you, two opposites attracting like a magnet. You found it difficult to retreat from his energy.

Eris traced the side of your face with the back of his hand, you couldn't help but melt into his touch. Like a moth to a flame, you chased the dancing flickers of his movements. You didn't know if it was the power of the bond or if it was his natural charm.

“I like what you’ve done to your hair,” Eris whispered breath on your lips, his hand twisted in your hair and tilted your head back, neck aching as you gazed up at him.

You closed your eyes, humming at the heat rolling off of him.

“But I suppose, in this court you are not mine,” he said, releasing his hold on your hair and pushing you away. “Only under the mountain.”

Eris Vanserra was every bit like the autumn court, hot one minute and cold the next. You'd been burnt more than you'd like to admit though, forever searching for the warmth to escape under the mountain. To escape them.

You reminded yourself that you were safe, no longer under the mountain. No longer in need of someone to seek help in. You could look after yourself.

"I should get cleaned up," you said, wincing at the dirt clinging to your trousers and caking your boots. Bowing your head in goodbye, you're yanked back by your elbow and Eris's arms wrapped around you.

He traced your arms, the thick layers of your jacket and trousers flickered, flames licking the fabric and replacing it with shining silks, skirt pooling down to the floor. A bronzed bodice hugged the top of your body, wide neck line accentuating your collar bone, but not revealing too much.

Burgundy and gold sheer panels fell from your broad shoulders like a cape, a merge of autumn and dawn colours. The dress light and flowing, moved as if it had a life of its own in the early morning breeze.

The tattoo snaking up your right arm on full display for everyone to see. Roots stretching around your wrist, tree with spindly branches wrapping around your forearm. Lighter patches of puckered skin marred your flesh, part of the ink lost to getting too close to the flames.

"How did you know I was under the mountain?" It's all you could think about since he'd appeared and helped you summon the spirit back into its box. You swayed in his embrace, back of your head pressed to his firm chest.

"I charmed the box to tell me if you ever touched it," he paused, his thumb dragging along the burns on your arm. "so that if you ever did open it, I could be there for you." He pecked your cheek, part of you longing for more.

"You did?" The spark reigniting in your chest, the weight of his words making you relax in his hold. He was always so good when it came to talking, smooth but direct with you.

"Mmmm, never thought you'd use it though," he hummed, his nose nudging your neck. You leant to the side, allowing him more skin to touch.

You hadn’t seen him since Amarantha’s reign, some nights you felt the ache of his absence. It seemed you were both caught up with the memories, not yet wanting to let each other go.

A guard appeared from the archway, he paused a few feet away before requesting both of your presence in the throne room. You followed him in, Eris slipping his hand in yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

The doors opened, camellia's hung from the glass domed ceiling and cascaded down the columns, orange and pink petals that rivalled the sun rising in the morning. Dewy raindrops trickled from the plants, landing into the fountain bed below them.

To your surprise Rhys and Cassian were waiting in the throne room. Thesan talking to them in hushed tones, Azriel nowhere to be seen. His absence leaving an ache in your chest, you had no idea why it bothered you so much. Then you remembered the way he looked at you under the mountain.

“Ah there you are,” Thesan said turning around, lips pursed as he eyed your held hands. “Vanserra.” He nodded his head, not bowing to Eris.

“High lords,”You were quick to bow to Thesan and Rhys. “General,” you said, facing Cassian, but before you could bow Eris tugged your hand to him, stopping you in your greeting.

Cassian’s gaze was still locked onto your joined hands, no, he was staring at the marks binding you to Eris. Now you knew why the autumn general still held onto you, he wanted them to know his claim. The promise or bargain tying you to him. That you are not your own.

It’s times like this that you felt the burn, the calculated touch he used, to give himself the upper hand. Always plotting something, three steps ahead of you and oh so predictable he’d told you many times before.

You slipped out of his grasp, hating the way you wanted to return to him for a little security.

“Why were your men attacking us?” Cassian demanded, his booming voice kept you from moving from your place. You glanced out of the corner of your eye at Eris, his attention on the dirt underneath his nails and his amber eyes slid to Rhys as if it were him who spoke.

"They were my father's guards."

"Why were you under the mountain?" Rhys asked, he was the only one sitting at the table, elbow leant against the edge. Cassian's stance wide and clenched fists by his side, as if he was trying to stop himself launching into Eris. Thick brows furrowed, nose scrunched in pure hatred for the redhead.

Thesan remained at the bottom of the tiled steps of his throne, watching the scene play out. Letting them shred light on the situation, keeping back to draw up his own conclusion of whatever was going on.

You felt the weight clamp down on your shoulder, fingers digging into your flesh. Another anchor to shackle you, Eris playing the part and orchestrating the meeting to go in his own favour.

"I was there for my little mender," Eris said, framing your face with his hands. Your lips parted, breath faltering as he inched closer. Nose brushing against yours, you almost forgot where you were in the heat of his hold. Earthy scent invading your senses, smokey wood of a crackling fire and warm vanilla overpowered by cinnamon.

"Enough, Vanserra. We get your point," Thesan said, clicking at you to shake you out of whatever trance you'd slipped into. His face softened as you focused on him, blurred vision dropping like Eris had veiled you to only see him.

Shame knotted in your stomach, the way you fell into him and laid everything down for him. A sudden wave of anger washed over you, the feeling foreign to you, but it stung the back of your throat, all the unsaid words coating your tongue like poison. A tiny black wisp danced around your ear in a frenzy, murmurs of something you couldn't quite make out. You scanned the room, looking for their source only to find nothing, no one. Untucking the hair from your ear, you hide the pesky shadow undecided of what to do with it.

You were too busy trying to decipher what the wisp was mumbling in your ear, that you'd missed the conversation going on around you. Thesan called your name, deep voice filtering through the shadows and beckoning you towards him.

"An alliance has already been drawn up with you and the night court, you'll be working closely with them for some time. It's only natural that you put your alliance with Vanserra to good use," Thesan paused, he picked up more ink with his pen and scribbled on the parchment in front of him. "You will be the Dawn courts first point of contact for Vanserra."

Thesan's words cut into you, put you to good use. You know he didn't mean to harm, but it hurt none the less. A relic to command and discard for another few hundred years.

"Cassian will accompany you on these meetings for extra protection," Rhys offered, his head nodding in his generals direction.

Eris scoffed, "what are you tethered to that dog too."

The table flipped, cassian flinging it out of his path as he stormed towards Eris. Rhys struggled to hold him back, his snarling words were muffled behind you.

You whipped around, shadow escaping the strands of your hair. "Vanserra," you snapped, but he cut you off.

"General." The playful glint lightened his amber eyes, as if daring you to step out of line. Under the mountain and alone with him he was Vanserra, in front of the eyes of others he was his title. Dutiful to his role in the court and putting those in their place that disrespected him. You shivered, hoping never to go to the autumn court.

That damned tug, the deep rooted need to close the distance between you and him. You fought it, "don't be so cruel, general."

"I thought you liked that about me."

"Vanserra, sit down before I change my mind." Thesan interrupted your two heated gazes, his arm linking with yours as he pulled out a chair for you, table back in its rightful place.

The meeting was brief, no mention of the relic you found under the mountain or the night courts shadowy friend. Your mind kept wandering back to him, it had been sometime since another person had occupied your mind and intrigued you. You put it down to familiarising your energy with the truth-teller, an extension of the Illyrian.

Thesan took you aside at the end, "you will be leaving for Velaris now, Alondra has already packed your belongings."

"What, no. I'll get more done here," you argued, but he shushed you before you could list all the reasons for you to stay. You'd get Alondra later, your best friend and roommate packing your bag, the dirty rat.

Hand on your shoulder, another weight to add. "They have more scriptures on certain history than we do, what you are doing needs to be guarded so it's only logical to go with them. You are bright and capable of doing this, even if I do need to give you a little nudge." Thesan's smile lit up his face, golden hair falling into his eyes as he leant down to hug you.

Alondra and Thesan had been trying to get you to resume your visits to the friendly courts again. You used to study wherever you could before under the mountain, but now you stuck to what was known and safe. The same routine and walls, hoards of relics to distract from the thoughts, the memories.

You bid your high lord goodbye, calling upon every scrap of courage as you walked through the corridor of billowing drapes. The red tiled roofs beyond the archways curved like the spine of a dragon, you could follow the lines for ages until the tail end pointed to the balcony.

Three sets of Illyrian wings stretched before you, Cassian playfully shoving azriel and his gaze flitted to you as you stepped out onto the balcony. Heart hammering in your chest as you took tentative steps towards them. The glistening sun breaking through the clouds shone through his shadows, they curled around his shoulders taking refuge behind the shade of his wings.

"You'll be travelling with Azriel," Rhys said, but you didn't get a chance to protest as he grabbed Cassian's arm and winnowed away. You stared at his vacant spot, eyes sweeping the area in search of Eris who had already left. Damn you for that spec of disappointment of no goodbye.

A gloved hand appeared, "Ready?" His low smooth voice drew your attention and you found yourself putting your hand in his. He hooked one arm under your legs and back, hoisting you up against his chest. The cobalt siphons on his clothes flashing, darkness shifted around you and you wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers clutching the back of his hair.

Shadows trailed over your bare arms like a sheet of ice, you shivered trying to get closer to Azriel. You'd never travelled between the planes of darkness, his shadows whirling around you, if you fell you wondered if they would catch you. As if he knew what you were thinking Azriel adjusted his grip on you.

Azriels wings flared, you both dropped suddenly before they stretched and it wasn't till you could feel the dewy mist of clouds, did you realise you were no longer in the shadows. Stars blanketed the sky, you'd never seen so many that your gaze stayed above. Hadn't realised that Azriel had landed till he set you down on your feet. His hand remained on your back, steadying you.

"Welcome to Velaris," Azriel said, smile gracing his lips and you almost felt yourself leaning into him. You couldn't help but mirror his smile.

taglist:@rcarbo1, @st4r-girl-official,@azrielswhore, @cynthiesjmxazrielslover, @shizukestar, @wolfbc97, @thecraziestcrayon

Thanks for all your lovely comments on my previous posts :) There will be more of Azriel in the next parts, hope you enjoy! - Yiiyii

Ps- I love Eris and he’s such a complicated character, so just wait ;)

[actual-changeling]

y'all already know i'm about to present you with angst based on this post so without further ado, here you go. these bitches always end up way longer than i plan. thank you to @createserenity for putting this scene into my head

-

He is about to leave. His palm is pressed against the door, already pushed open enough for the noise of the street to slip into the dusty silence of the bookshop. 'I forgive you' is echoing around his head as if someone had turned it into a bell and hit it with a hammer, every vibration another flash of needle-sharp pain.

Crowley should most definitely leave.

But.

There's always a but with him, with them, and he wouldn't have it any other way. So, with one last sigh and a prayer to no one that he won't regret it, he drops his hand and watches the door drift shut with a tiny, fading tinkle. Behind him, barely contained sobs are escaping Aziraphale despite his best attempts, and if his heart weren't already broken, it would shatter now. They're just as good as hurting each other as they are at loving, but somehow the former is the only reality they are ever allowed to experience.

Crowley turns back around, and, fuck it all, he might as well take his glasses off, too. After this, there is nothing to hide anymore, not really.

In the aggressively cheerful rays of sunlight shining through the windows, the tears gathered along Aziraphale's waterline glint like tiny sapphires and break up the stormy hyacinth of his irises. He blinks once, twice, and they carve a wet path along the lines of his face as he allows his tears to drip from his jaw. Crowley inhales, shaky, nervous, angry, and so, so desperately in love, and barely feels the sting of his own tears as they roll down his cheeks.

The question in Aziraphale's eyes is simple yet impossible to answer.

Still, he knows why he turned around, and even after everything has been said, there is one sentence—three words—that he needs him to hear. Something to erase 'I forgive you' from both their memories before it festers and grows thorns like particularly mean poison ivy, ripping them apart from the inside out.

"Crowley?"

Hope. There is a spark of hope in Aziraphale's voice, and he has to bite back a low whimper of pain - he cannot leave now, can't even look away. Tremors run through his hands, causing his glasses to clink together, and before rational thought can set in, he drops them to the floor. This is a horrible idea; he already screwed them up, left, came back because Aziraphale asked him to, kissed him, left again - and now he came back all on his own.

Because-

"I love you."

All the air leaves his lungs, the confession is carried by a sigh, and the tears begin streaming down his face in earnest, hot enough to burn like acid. Aziraphale freezes, and for a second Crowley is worried he accidentally stopped time, but then his fingers twitch, his mouth opens, and he can hear the breath he sucks in like a drowning man.

"I love you," he says again, because now it is the only thing he can say, and Aziraphale presses his fingertips against his lips with something akin to reverence.

"Do that again," Aziraphale whispers into the unfurling silence, words muffled by his hand, but Crowley understands them nevertheless.

"Do that again, please, right now."

This time, they're both moving, their bodies drawn to each other by the same gravity that has been at their centre while they have been orbiting each other for millennia. Warmth, heat, salt, iron, and touch-touch-touch—their world narrows down to the glide of tear-slick lips and hands grasping for anything they can hold onto.

Crowley cups his face, allowing his palms to slide along his cheeks until he can bury his fingers in his hair, and he kisses him the way he has always wanted to kiss him—breathless and urgent, and with every heartbeat screaming, iloveyou over and over.

Pulling him in as tightly as inhumanly possible, Aziraphale slings one arm around his waist and the other around his neck, cupping the back of his head and scratching his nails over his scalp. His mouth opens for an airless moan, and in the tiny break, their eyes fly open, gold meeting aquamarine as the colours of the world seemingly flow apart. Nothing matters except the twin thrum of their hearts.

"I love you," Aziraphale gasps, choking on his breath and turning it into a sob. "I love you, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Crowley, I love you too."

They fall back into the kiss, their cheeks wet with tears, and there is no telling whether they are tears of joy or regret, anger or forgiveness. Within seconds, though, all of that stops mattering, too.

Unable to resist, Crowley leans back just enough to dart his tongue out to taste them, peppering tiny, fluttering kisses along his jaw, still crying.

"I know," he breathes, pressing their temples together and nudging against him until their foreheads meet. "I know, angel. I love you."

It does not fix them. It doesn't fix anything, but right now, neither of them cares. They need the time, want the time, and Crowley inhales the taste of love from Aziraphale's lips and gives them as long as they need and more; no one, not even God, can break his hold on reality.

Not when it means he gets to kiss Aziraphale againagainagain.

[moonheecore]

D,F,A,X NSFW jay enhypen please

I’ve already done F for Jay!

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Jay likes seeing lip stains on his body. It doesn't matter if it's a tinted lip balm, a scented lip gloss, or a liquid lipstick; he likes how it leaves a messy print on his skin when you shower his body with open kisses. It doesn't matter which part; he enjoys secretly searching for one in the bathroom mirror anyway— on his abs, his shoulder, his neck, his back. His favorite part is when you wear a bold red lipstick and leave a seductive kiss stain right on his v-line because it reminds him of how slutty you fuck your throat using his cock. He also enjoys messing up your lips after you swallow his load, letting his thumb press on the corner of your mouth to collect the excess cum and spreading it until your whole lipstick is smudged to your cheeks. Okay, to end it all, if you tell him that your lipstick is sex-proof, I think he’s gonna prove you fucking wrong 🥴 i think the longer you are with him, you’ll definitely realise this little tick of his

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He'll be so attentive, sometimes putting his own needs over yours, that it's a no-brainer that he'll keep asking if you need anything. Water? Snacks? Shower? Bath? Do you need to pee? You might actually need to convince him to cuddle with you because he's such a mother hen. If you're too tired, he'll make sure to clean you up with a wet towel at least, and then clothe you with his own baggy t-shirt because he doesn't want his baby to wake up dirty and cold. He'll go even infinity and beyond to take a comb and brush your hair for you when it's all tangled and messy. If you're cold, he'll wrap you up with a blanket, and if you're hot, he'll turn on the air conditioning for you. I also feel like Jay is the type to enjoy pillow talk, just lying down side by side while he caresses your naked body, talking and laughing about the most random shit ever.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

I need a big boy, give me a big boy We can all agree that Jay is massive down there, right? He's definitely way thicker and girthier than the average, so he'll stretch your walls and mouth pretty tight and wide. The fact that his dick prints are visible even when he's still soft tells me that once he gets completely hard, his monster cock is raging against his abs like damn. His length and balls are slightly bigger as well and are deliciously darker than the rest of his body. I honestly think if he doesn't wear any briefs or boxers while wearing sweatpants, his schlong will be moving and flying everywhere for you to see. That's just how hefty he is.

send an ask based on the NSFW alphabet template together with one or more members in the hyungline.

[themysteriousashe]

your dirty little mind || cs55 and cl16

notes: this is my first threesome smut, and it is grammarly edited, so wording and/or flow might be weird. i was inspired by all the sweaty videos and pics of the two ferrari boys from the charity game on tuesday. additionally, i listened to charles jeffrey by ray laurel on repeat to write this.

warnings: smut, threesome, p in v sex, oral sex (male and female receiving) anal sex, penetrative sex, minors dni, 18+ only, grammarly edited

word count: 4.2k (just under, but rounded up)

The game was intense. First, Charles ate shit to try to make a goal, and Carlos was injured. The whole football match had you gnawing your bottom lip in nerves but also in anticipation. Watching the two men play and gradually become drenched in sweat did something to you. Maybe that something was remembering the nights the three of you spent together, bodies moving passionately and sweat glistening on various shades of skin. Your hands gripped the fabric of your linen pants, one foot tapping to release the energy building in your system.

The weather wasn’t hot, sitting at a pleasant 72 degrees Fahrenheit, but your body grew worked up during the match from anxiety and being turned on. You would curse mentally whenever you saw the boys wipe their faces with their shirts, revealing the chiseled abdomen hiding underneath. Carlos’s boxers peeking out from his shorts almost ruined you, your mind flickering to a time you took them off of him. They would catch your eye occasionally, shooting a smile your way. Each time, your cheeks heated up, and you shifted in your seat to get more comfortable.

As soon as the match ended, you followed the crowd filtering out of the game. As you patiently waited, your phone buzzed in your bag; the bag was close enough to your body that you felt your phone go off, and you immediately reached in, curious about who could have texted you. The message was from Charles, surprising you at how fast he could return to the locker room.

You smiled to yourself, knowing you were egging Charles on. You tucked your phone away, descending the steps to the line of cars waiting for people. You walked the line of vehicles, avoiding people standing on the sidewalk. Carlos demanded you have a driver since you were in Monaco, the city of luxury and allure. It was a fight you would never win, despite telling him how many times you didn’t need one. Charles hopped in, taking Carlos’s side. His selling point was the two couldn’t be seen with you before the race events; it needed to be after.

You begrudgingly accepted his reasoning, agreeing to the driver on the condition you wanted a ride in Charles’s Ferrari; once it was acceptable, you could be seen together without speculation arising on the internet. The driver was an older gentleman standing outside a black car with tinted windows. You greeted him, giving him Charles’s address. It was an apartment you visited what felt like a million times; it wasn’t foreign to you and was a familiar hook-up spot for the three of you if you all happened to be near. You got into the car, the driver closing the door behind you, and buckled up for the driver.

The ride to the apartment was quiet. To keep yourself occupied and at ease, despite your heart hammering in your chest at what was to come, you scrolled your phone, already seeing photos of Charles and Carlos in the match. You bit your lip, shamelessly rewatching the clips of Charles lifting his shirt and wiping his face with the jersey. When you were about to close Instagram, you were greeted by a post to Charles’s story. You tapped on it, a snort leaving your nose in amusement. You typed a quick message to him, saying, “Me fr,” knowing he’d get a kick out of it. 

You loved how Charles could joke about his mistakes and watch the fans’ reactions. Watching the internet speculate about his personality filled you with pride because the both of you frequently sent each other stupid shit daily. So the internet wasn’t wrong when they claimed Charles was a meme lord.

The car pulled to the apartment, and you thanked the driver, undoing your seatbelt. You assured him he didn’t need to exit the vehicle, stating you could open the door yourself. He smiled at you in the rearview, and you returned the smile as you opened the car door. You stepped out, gazing up at the looming apartment building before you. Your lips quirked up in a smile as you pushed the door closed, stepping forward towards the entrance.

You typed in the code to his apartment as you had done many times before, a buzz and the click of the door unlocking signaling your access. You carefully opened the door, sliding through as thin of a crack as you could. You greeted the security with a nod and a smile, receiving one in return as you headed towards the elevator. You clicked the up arrow, pulled out your phone, and checked your notifications while waiting for it to come down. Once the doors opened, revealing an empty car, you stepped in and pressed the button to Charles’s floor, immediately pressing the button to close the doors quicker.

The elevator ascended, your heart pounding as to what was to come. Your phone was tucked in your bag, your eyes intently watching the numbers tick until a ding announced your arrival. The doors opened, and you stepped out, walking to Charles’s door. You knew it would be unlocked since the boys didn’t want you to mess with a key and prolong the fun. You opened the door, walked in, and closed it behind you. As soon as the door closed, a figure appeared before you and immediately smashed his lips on yours. His hands made their way to your body, gripping your waist while the other grabbed your back.

Immediately, your body reacted to the action, your arm falling and your hand tucking your bag off, letting it fall to the floor. You returned the kiss with the same fervor, hands flying into the dark strands. By feeling alone, you could tell it was Carlos, as he was a little bulkier than Charles. His tongue immediately parted your lips, and you moaned, letting him explore your mouth and teasing him with your tongue. He pressed you against the door, the hand on your back falling to your rear. He gripped your ass, pulling your flesh against his body. You could feel the slight presence of an erection pressing against your thigh through his jeans.

“Starting the fun without me?” Charles asked, leaning in his bedroom doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. You pulled away from Carlos, soft pants leaving both of you. His pupils were blown wide, pushing the beautiful brown to the edges. You looked over at Charles, smirking as you pulled away from Carlos. You began to head towards him, a pat on your bum from Carlos causing a jump in your step.

“Carlos was just saying hello, Leclerc. I do enjoy his greetings,” you teased, gently pushing Charles in the middle of his chest as you entered the bedroom. He chuckled, following Carlos in. You turned in the center of the room, the darkness from the large windows penetrated by the soft lighting of bedside lamps.

“Now you have me here,” you said, sticking your arms and hands out to the side of you before they dropped back down.

“Now you’re here,” Carlos responded, his eyes scanning you up and down. A flirty smirk was on his lips, and you smiled. Charles stepped forward, reaching out and taking one of your hands in his, tugging you into him.

“I think it’s my turn, mon chérie,” Charles purred, leaning down so his nose brushed against yours. You looked up at him through your lashes, lips parted and breath speeding up.

“Now it’s your turn,” you whispered, reaching up to clutch the opened button-up and t-shirt combination that Charles frequently wore. He leaned down and kissed you, not as rough as Carlos’s kiss. That was the difference between them: Carlos loved to devour, and Charles liked to savor. As Charles and you kissed, Carlos stepped forward, stepping behind you. He set a hand on your hip, using the other to move your hair to the other side. He began to leave kisses on your neck, starting below your ear.

You gently moaned into the kiss, tightening and untightening your grip on Charles’s button-up as Carlos kissed your neck and Charles’s licked your bottom lip, asking for entry to your mouth. You happily let him in, his hands slipping between the both of you to begin unbuttoning the linen shirt you wore. His fingers grazed the curves of your breasts as he continued down, causing your breath to hitch in the kiss. Once all the buttons were undone, you pulled your arms back from your shoulders, letting Carlos remove the top and drop it to the ground.

Once Carlos removed your shirt, he had better access to more skin. He kissed down your neck to your shoulder, nipping at the curve of skin between them. You shuddered, goosebumps forming on your skin. You pulled away from Charles’s kiss, panting softly as you looked at him. Your eyes remained locked with his bright green ones, pushing the button-up off his shoulders. He removed it, dropping it to the ground. Your hands went to the hem of his t-shirt, fingers sliding underneath to graze the chiseled skin of his abdomen. You gently scratched his skin with your nails, pushing the shirt up. He helped you remove the shirt, bare on his torso except for the necklace around his neck.

You turned around, Carlos’s lips breaking away from your skin. He smiled at you, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Charles traced your curves with his hands, pressing up behind you. You could feel his arousal behind you, teeth gently biting your lip as you undid the buttons on Carlos’s shirt. You held intense eye contact, your fingers moving in a familiar rhythm. Inch by inch, Carlos’s torso was revealed until there were no more buttons.

You tore your gaze away, ogling at the Spanish beauty before you. You touched his warm skin and danced your fingers along the curves. Charles hooked his fingers in the waistband of your linen pants, leaning forward to pepper kisses on your right shoulder. You reached up under the shoulders of Carlos’s shirt and pushed the fabric away. The shirt flowed off his arms, falling to the floor. He reached forward, cupping your cheek before kissing you, his lips revealing his hunger for you.

Charles’s kisses on your skin flowed down your back, his teeth nipping at your hips through your panties as he slid your pants down. He kneeled behind you once the material pooled at your feet, kissing upward. Instinctively, you stepped out of the clothing despite being occupied with Carlos, who massaged one of your breasts through your bra. Charles stood up to his complete form, kissing your shoulder once more as his hand swept across your skin to your panties.

Your eyes immediately flew open as soon as you felt Charles’s hand slip beneath the material of your panties and graze your clit, going to feel your wetness between your folds. The kiss was broken as a moan left your lips, your back arching into Charles. Carlos chuckled between his pants, swiping his thumb across his bottom lip. He attacked your neck with kisses, nipping and sucking at the skin.

You squirmed between the two men, reaching forward and gripping Carlos’s shoulder to help you stand upright. Charles had you on your toes as his fingers lazily circled your clit as if he was playing the piano. Moans bubbled in your throat, but you let out soft pants, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of hearing how they made you feel. Carlos was occupied with reaching behind you, fingers slowly undoing the hooks of your bra. His lips were focused on the skin of your breasts that peeked out from the fabric.

Carlos slipped your bra from your form, discarding it on the ground. He knelt, hands flying to your waist and fingertips digging into the skin. He kissed the curve of your breast before bringing his mouth around one of your nipples, causing you to moan loudly. Your free hand flew to his hair, gripping the dark strands as he teased you from the front and Charles teased you from behind.

You felt the heat and tension build up in your core, signaling your nearing orgasm. You didn’t want to be the first to come, not yet. However, your mind was too distracted and overstimulated by their ministrations to focus on anything but the pleasure they brought you. You opened your eyes, staring at the ceiling and trying to get your thoughts in order.

“Let’s take this to the bed,” you panted, feeling the two pause at your suggestion. You could feel Charles’s smile against your skin, the hot breath from his mouth causing a chill to run through you.

“I think that is a wonderful decision, wouldn’t you agree, mate?” Charles purred to Carlos, taking a step back from you. Carlos released himself from teasing your breasts with his mouth, sliding his hands to your ass as he stood up. He squeezed the flesh, a grin on his lips. Finally, he nodded at what Charles had to say, pulling away and stepping to the side, signaling with an outstretched arm to the bed.

You scoffed, shaking your head as you walked past Carlos. He nailed a good smack on your ass, causing you to yelp in surprise. Laughter filled the air as the two men chuckled at your reaction before you sat on the edge of the bed, leaning back on your arms. You gazed at the two men, looking them up and down seductively.

“I think you both are wearing a little too much clothing. I can fix that for you,” you purred, bringing your hands down to your panties. You hooked your fingers beneath the waistband, pulling them down and off your legs. You dropped them to the floor, keeping your legs open as the two men stared at you as if you were a meal. Carlos’s tongue darted out, wetting his lips.

“Lei sarà la nostra morte, amico,” Carlos huffed in Italian to Charles. You laughed, understanding what the Spaniard said from the little bit of Italian the boys taught you here and there. Charles laughed, walking past Carlos and squeezing his shoulder in agreement. He stepped before you, reaching out and caressing your cheek before gripping your chin. You gazed up at him, giving him a gaze of submission but also tempted to suck his thumb between your lips.

“Will you do the honors, fille chérie?” Charles asked, bringing his thumb up to your lips. You nodded, gently nipping at the pad of his thumb before reaching forward. His hand fell to his side as you undid his belt, leaning forward to kiss his flesh softly. The strap hung undone, framing the button of his jeans. Your fingers slipped the button free, teeth nipping at his right hip. His breath hitched, chest rising and falling as you slowly pulled the zipper down. You reached in, purposefully grazing the obvious erection in his underwear before tugging the jeans down.

“Putain d'enfer,” Charles breathed, pulling away from you. Your hands brushed his thighs as he stepped away. You grinned at Charles, knowing you got underneath his skin. Carlos had watched with his arms crossed, amused as you spent time with Charles. As soon as Charles was yanking his jeans and underwear off, Carlos quickly undid his belt and jeans, soon bared before you.

“Fuck, I am the luckiest woman in the fucking world,” you breathed, toes curling and eyes almost rolling into the back of your head at the sight of the two naked men before you. You watched as they stepped around, Carlos lying horizontally across the bed. His head was slightly close to the edge. He looked at you, patting his chest.

“Come have a seat,” Carlos suggested, eyes beckoning you. You grinned, crawling over to him before straddling both sides of him with Charles’s assistance. He gave you a hand to position yourself over Carlos’s face, and you thanked him with a squeeze of his hand. Next, Carlos brought his hands to your thighs, caressing the skin. You shuddered, blinking your eyes repetitively a couple of times at the sensation.

Carlos pulled you down with no warning, tongue immediately delving within you. You cried out as his tongue circled your clit before attacking between your folds, lapping at your wetness. You reached forward, gripping Charles’s forearm. He waited for you to adjust, in awe at the sight of you.

“Ch-Charles, let me, please,” you pleaded, reaching forward with your free hand and wrapping it around his cock. The motion widened his eyes, but he stepped closer, cock level with your face. You looked up at him as your hand moved down toward the base, feeling the brush of his hair. Your gaze was innocent despite your lips wrapping around the tip of his cock and flicking your tongue out to run over the slit. He groaned, hands clutching your head at the base of your hair and fingers gently digging into your skull.

You closed your eyes, focusing on pleasing Charles with your mouth as Carlos pleased you with his. You took as much of Charles as possible, removing your hand from his forearm to grip the comforter beneath you. Your other hand stroked what couldn’t fit into your mouth, but you liked to focus more on the tip. You would bring Charles close to the back of your throat before pulling back, sucking and licking on the head.

As you teased Charles, Carlos moved to suck on your clit, slipping away one of his hands from your thigh and pressing a finger between your folds. You moaned on Charles’s cock, the sensation causing Charles to pull a breath through his teeth. Carlos gently brought his finger in and out of you, adding another. Your brows were furrowed in pleasure, Carlos’s actions causing you to stop sucking Charles’s cock. It still sat in your mouth as you moaned, soon pulling away from him. A strand of saliva followed your lips, soon breaking away.

Your eyes were squeezed soft, pants and moans leaving you. You opened your eyes, brows still furrowed as you looked at Charles. He leaned down, capturing your lips in his. He could taste himself on your tongue and lips, deepening the kiss to devour more. One of his hands clutched the base of your neck, fingers still tangled in your hair. You were brought closer and closer to the precipice of an orgasm, and you reached down, gently smacking Carlos’s shoulders as Charles kissed you. You pulled away, out of breath from Charles’s kiss.

“Carlos, please,” you begged, not wanting to cum on his mouth alone. You needed both of them. Now. Carlos slowed down, removing his fingers first before he pulled his mouth away from you. He licked his lips, patting your thighs to signal you could move. Charles helped you once again, gripping both of your hands to guide you off of Carlos and the bed.

Carlos sat up from the bed, soon standing up to move. His cock moved up and down as he walked to the end of the bed, your eyes watching him as Charles grabbed condoms from the nightstand. He pulled two out, ripping the serrations to separate the two. You glanced behind you at the sound, watching Charles walk over to Carlos and hand him one.

“Thanks, mate,” Carlos said quietly, accepting the condom. Both men ripped the packaging and slipped the condoms on.

“Come here, cariño,” Carlos said, shifting back from the end’s edge but still keeping his feet planted on the floor. You went to him, leaning down and kissing him as you planted a knee on each side of his body. He returned the kiss, one hand on your back, the other lining his cock up with your entrance. You reached down as well before sliding down on him. The kiss deepened as you allowed him to fill you to the hilt, his body taking the both of you back on the bed.

Charles watched the both of you, aroused by the scene and watching Carlos fill you with ease. He stepped between Carlos’s parted legs, touching your lower back. He caressed the flesh of your ass, causing you to pull away from Carlos’s kisses and watch Charles. He took himself in his left hand, shifting to level before slowly entering you from behind. Your eyes rolled back, toes curling, and cunt clenching around Carlos as Charles entered you.

Both men gave you a moment to adjust; the sensation wasn’t new, but it was always slightly alarming initially. Charles leaned forward to kiss your shoulder before straightening back, waiting for the cue. You nodded aggressively, eyes squeezed shut as you clutched Carlos’s shoulders. Carlos kissed your temple before both men moved together, Carlos thrusting up into you and Charles’s thrusts pushing you forward. You moaned, ready to come apart right there.

They were slow at first, continuing to let you adjust like the gentlemen they were. Then, when the only noise you made was panting, they changed their pace, their hips snapping against you. You moaned, back arching, which pushed you further into Carlos. Carlos’s hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your flesh that you knew would leave a mark behind. Charles’s grip was a little looser than Carlos’s on your waist but would still leave faint marks behind.

The pace they set quickly brought you closer and closer to an orgasm, the sensations of both pumping in and out of you overwhelming your body. Carlos thrust up, hips lifting off the bed, and a spot inside you that made you see stars. You gasped, clutching his bicep to the point your nails dug in. The sound of panting and your moans echoed throughout the room, all three bodies glistening with a thin layer of sweat.

“Fuck!” you cried out, soon feeling the tension in your core snap. You squeezed around Carlos, the tightening of your walls pulling him with you, causing his lips to stutter and his grip to tighten. Despite fucking you from behind, the tension of your orgasm was enough to bring Charles to his climax. He rode through his orgasm, slowing his pace until he stopped.

You fell on Carlos, not caring if your full weight was on him. Both of you were a panting, sweating mess. He removed a hand from your waist, running his fingers through his hair. He laid his head back, staring at the ceiling as he tried to get his breathing down to normal. Charles leaned over you, panting, but he kissed your spine. You hummed softly, weakly glancing back at Charles. Your eyes met, and he offered you a gentle smile, rubbing your back before he removed himself from you.

Charles walked to the ensuite bathroom, going to quickly clean up before he joined the both of you in bed. Carlos tilted his head up, stroking your back before gently patting your bum. You sighed, sitting up and letting him hold the condom before you removed yourself. Carlos leaned over, moving some hair that stuck to the sweat on your forehead. He gave it a gentle kiss, stroking your hair in the process.

Charles quickly returned, picking you up from the end of the bed. Carlos stood up and went to the bathroom, patting Charles on the shoulder. He carried you bridal style to his side of the bed, kneeling to place you in the middle before laying down next to you. You lay on your back, staring at the ceiling until Charles was beside you. Your head turned to meet his eyes, a soft smile on both faces. He stroked your hair, and you gently caressed his thigh and knee.

Carlos joined you both on the bed, wearing boxers he discarded on the ground. He lay on his side, close to you. You reached out to him as well, squeezing his forearm. He traced circles on your skin.

“Glad we got to fuck after we eye fucked each other during the match,” you said. Both men laughed, shaking their heads in amusement. You chatted idly about the match, making fun of Charles’s faceplant into the ground. After the teasing, Charles urged you to get cleaned up, which you did while throwing a small fit about it. You went into the bathroom, cleaned yourself up, and slipped on the panties you wore before. Charles stood next to his dresser, boxers on and a soft, folded t-shirt in his hands.

The t-shirt was extended to you, which you graciously accepted. You unfolded the material before slipping it on, following Charles to the bed that Carlos was still on. While you had cleaned up, Carlos slipped under the sheets, exhaustion from the day’s activities finally hitting him. You took your spot in the middle, Charles following you after. You snuggled up before fatigue and sleep took all three of you quickly.

[oneshotnewbie]

Hello can you make Maddie and Buck's little sister who is a teenager has an accident or is injured and she calls 911 to find her sister who sends the firefighter and her brother and in a panic with Maddie on the phone who is panicking too

ᕚ---ᕘ

With a choked gasp, you startled and looked around in a halting darkness that human eyes could never adjust to. Cold, rough chunks of concrete that painfully buried you underneath did not let in any light. Not the slightest ray could stray through it.

Orientation in the blackness was almost impossible and the disorientation made you seem even more helpless than you already were. "Hello? Can someone hear me?" Struggling to lend strength to your dusty voice, you tried to straighten your torso, but a searing pain tore through the upper left quadrant of your abdomen prevented you.

The air was damp, musty and cold. Fine particles of the collapsed concrete still trickled onto your tear-streaked face, while your lungs filled with a teaspoon of dust with every breath you took.

You did not know if you were alone when the parking deck collapsed on itself, but the thought that someone else might be trapped in her, or possibly even dead, frightened you. "Please, is someone here?"

The vibrating of your phone pulled you back from your thoughts. Totally forgetting you had it with you and surprised to find it had still a transmission to the outside world, you were grateful.

Silently and cautiously, you pulled out your phone with shaky, wet hands and clung to the piece of plastic, trying to shed some light on your situation. It was only through the brightness of the screen that you had realized, you were in more trouble than you thought you were.

The liquid on your hands was nothing more than dark red blood stretching across your fingers and was trickling down your wrist. Your leg was buried below the knee under a steel beam, which is why you had long lost feeling in it while a small iron rod protruded from your torso and penetrated your lower ribs.

"Crap," you moaned disconcertingly and laid your head back down on the concrete slab that allowed and supported to keep your upper body upright. The chunks of gray stone that had embedded your body, shifted cruelly under your movements, some small pieces trickling down on you from above.

Covering your eyes protectively, you could not feel if new small wounds adorned your skin and you did not dare to move any further to check which put your heart in a more obvious state of panic, but you hardly felt the beating in your chest. It slowed down.

With the last ounce of your strength steadily oozing out with the blood from your wounds, you dialed 911 hoping the network would hold up this conversation. After all, you were buried under debris that could interfere with the signal. "911, what is your emergency?"

"Maddie," you groaned wearily, instantly recognizing your eldest sibling through the cracking line. Her voice was dulled and partially interrupted, yet you felt a deep sense of relief to hear it. You were not alone anymore. "I-I need help"

The brunettes breath caught in her throat as your faint and barely audible voice entered her ears. It had come as quite a shock to Maddie, when she unsuspectingly had you on the helpline and found a chilling story about your well-being. "Y/n, where are you? Are you okay? What happened?"

"T-the parking garage at Cherokee Avenue collapsed," like a second hand, sweat formed on your forehead, although the warmth had long left. Dizziness caught up with you, but with a lot of luck and willpower, you managed to escape it and searched for a spot to focus on in the slightly lit environment. "I am buried under the rubble"

"Oh my god, a-are you hurt?"

"My leg is crushed. A metal rod is sticking out of my stomach, it hurts terribly. I am losing an awful lot of blood," Maddie had to listen helplessly to the spectacle that was taking place in disbelief and bewilderment. Absentmindedly, she fiddled with the keyboard and at the same time played with her private phone to call and inform your brother.

Meanwhile, the air was becoming increasingly scarce. Under no circumstances should you breathe in too deeply, using the precious oxygen sparingly. "I can not breathe," it came hoarsely from your lips as tears streamed unabashedly down your face.

A fit of coughing shook you and an iron taste kindled in your mouth. You could hardly breathe, the oxygen supply was running out and your lungs were heavier by the minutes. Just as quickly, the fear of endless, terrifying darkness and the cold that towered over you.

"I do not want to die, Maddie," you sobbed into the phone, the optimism of getting out of her alive dwindling. Walled under concrete and buried under dust, you knew no way out and fear filled you more with every passing minute. "You will not, sweetheart. Buck is on the way, you just have to hold on. Hold on and listen to me while we wait together for your brother, okay?"

The familiarity of Maddie´s voice allowed you to remain calm, at least on the surface, while your soul rampaged around the stable like a panicked horse. And so you had begun to wait for the approaching help with the fear of death and the agony that awaited you.

ᕚ---ᕘ

The sun was already beginning to set and the clouds hung gray in the sky as the team around Bobby Nash drove up to the scene. Upon arrival, the remains of various building material and destroyed vehicles were scattered on the crumbling ground.

Cold, dusty air blew in the faces of the team and the feeling that was churning in them as they saw the collapsed building, knowing you were under there, stretched bitterly through their chest. With heavy strides, Evan Buckley ran up to the top of the rubble, his phone clutched tightly to his ear, frantically calling your name while following his sisters panicked statements.

With his right leg, he swept away the small chunks and bits of metal. "Y/n!" his voice sounded rough and scratchy, he could no longer think clearly when uncertainty and sadness overcame him. "Where are you?"

Huffing and distraught, tears welled up in his eyes as he watched his teammates pull some stones from the pile. Evan rushed and jumped down, desperate to get through to you with all of his accumulated power. "Maddie, I can not hear her, is she still there?" with a jerk, he thoughtfully scratched the back of his head while biting his bottom lip hard and tasting the stale taste of blood.

He felt like complete destruction.

"Call is ongoing, but she is not responding to me anymore!" Maddie answered. Hard, he pounded his fist against the stones until his knuckles were severely sore and bleeding, only to repeat the procedure in frustration. Evan Buckley possessed a mental strength that was admired by everyone. But when it came to his little sister, he lost all of the stability and raged through life like a tornado. "Come on, move. We have to get her out of here"

As they spent hours trying to dig their way out to you, you vacillated between consciousness and unconsciousness. The phone meanwhile had slipped out of your hand and was inaccessible, nevertheless your sister was still panicking on the receiver, calling your name several times unsuccessfully.

You had no strength, empty air escaped your mouth instead of simple words.

From afar, you heard murmuring voices gathering around you. They talked frantically and at once a while some of them screamed and interrupted the conversations. Everyone seemed so far away, that you hardly could understood their words. "Y/n, where are you?"

"I am here, please" you whispered in a low voice that was probably barely audible. A violent chill went through you as the voices slowly approached and called out to you. The ground beneath you vibrated, bits and pieces of thick stone clamped above you, whose pillar was preventing it from coming down and crushing you, rained down dust before moments later a faint, dirty light flooded your place through a small crack.

"We found her!"

[shdo-xplosion]

SLIMEBALL!AIZAWA X READER

Warnings: dubcon, explicit content, aizawa wrestles with his conscience but his dick wins, aloe vera as lube, talk of when reader was his student, almost somnophilia, fingering, p in v, creampie, cum play, fem-bodied reader, reader is white-coded, described as turning pink/red from sunburn

Word Count: 2.1k

Notes: my contribution to the Wet Hot Slimeball Summer collab! thank you to @bastardblvd for letting me join! i’ve been wanting to write aizawa for a little while now and this just possessed me. hope everyone has fun with it, and make sure to check out the masterlist for more slimy content!

He should wake you up, give you a nudge where you lay in your beach towel, but Shouta can’t bring himself to. Not when he has such a perfect view of your body, the arch of your back, the curve of your ass, the way your tits squish out from beneath you, your skimpy top barely doing anything to cover them.

Fuck, he should wake you up. Your skin is already turning pink. You’re going to have painful burn lines that will peel and turn into sexy tan lines, and Shouta has to shake his head to get the image out of his mind.

His sick mind. There must be something wrong with him. You were his student for fuck’s sake, and sure, you haven’t been for a few years now. Now you’re a big shot pro, one of the top 10, but he can still remember you sitting in the back row of his classroom, mouthy, obnoxious, still learning to control your quirk.

He remembers having to tell you to shut your mouth every single day, a mouth that he finds himself staring at more and more, lips parted and pouty, and Shouta wants to slide his fingers between them, feel your tongue on his fingerprints.

But he refrains, just bites the inside of his cheek and looks out at the waves.

The beach houses are nice, other pros having rented a few out for a nice little getaway. There are still heroes in the city to protect civilians, nothing to worry about. All Shouta has to do is relax.

He’s in a house with Hizashi, All Might, Snipe, and you, and his patience is running thin. Between Toshinori’s loud ass voice and Hizashi forgetting to turn on his hearing aids, Shouta is beginning to think that maybe he does deserve a little treat. Maybe he should indulge.

No. No. Ex-student. And the media would have a field day if anything ever got leaked. Not worth it. Definitely not worth it.

But hours later finds everyone back in their respective houses, resting after a long day in the sun. Hizashi and Toshinori are passed out and Snipe has retired to his room, probably also sleeping, leaving Shouta tired but awake, listening to you hiss every time you move.

“Jesus, I haven’t had a sunburn like this since I was a kid,” you whine.

“Should’ve put on more sunscreen,” Shouta replies. Or he could’ve just woken you up. Been an actual good person instead of perving on you in your bikini.

“I meant to! But the sun felt nice, and the waves were so soothing, and I just…”

“Dozed off. Just let all those UV rays cook you.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t need a lecture, Aizawa Sensei,” you scoff, and the way the old title makes Shouta’s dick twitch in his sweatpants. Fuck.

“You’re right, you’re right. How about I go pick up some aloe vera, then?” he offers. He needs to put some space between the two of you.

“What, I’ll stop whining?”

“Maybe,” he smirks.

Once he pulls on a shirt Shouta leaves and makes his way down to the little shop at the end of the street. All it sells is beach stuff, but lucky him, that’s all he needs.

One bottle of overpriced aloe vera and a meaningless chat with the cashier, and Shouta is on his way back to the house. He wonders if you’ll lather it on in front of him. Maybe you’ll even ask him to help.

The lightweight shirt you had put on earlier must be too much for your raw skin because you’ve gotten rid of it, walking around in a t-shirt bra and little shorts. Have you gotten even redder?

“Oh, thank god.”

“Let me throw it in the freezer for a few minutes,” Shouta says, pulling the bottle out of your reach when you practically lunge for it. “It’ll feel better cold.”

“But Aizawaaa,” you pout, sounding a lot like a petulant child, crossing your arms only to whimper and drop them back to your hips.

“It’ll be worth it. I promise.” Without giving it much thought he hooks a finger under your chin, thumb flicking your pushed-out bottom lip. When you don’t recoil from the touch, he fights to keep from pulling you closer.

Unfortunately, you don’t ask him for help when you apply the cold cream to your skin, but Shouta is granted a look at your hardened nipples through the material covering them, the icy aloe making you break out in goosebumps.

“Thank you for getting this,” you say genuinely. “It’s gonna make my nap so much easier.”

Shouta has always been good at hiding his emotions, so you aren’t able to see the disappointment he feels as he watches you retreat to your room, the green bottle in hand.

It’s fine though because an hour later he finds himself creeping in after you, eyes locked on your sleeping form. You’re lying on your stomach, likely to avoid the burn on your back that you weren’t able to reach. No blankets are covering you, the heat from your skin keeping you well warmed.

The bottle of aloe is on the nightstand, and Shouta reaches for it—room temperature now, and squirts some in his hand.

He’s doing you a favor, he reasons with himself. Your back is an ugly (beautiful) red, and he wants to help soothe you.

His hands on you don’t wake you immediately, just make you sigh and snuggle further into your pillow. Shouta gently rubs the remedy over you, as careful as possible. You feel so nice under his palms, so warm and smooth, the dip of your back calling to him. He could make you arch further, make your hips roll and buck. Your shorts ride low, waistband just above the swell of your ass, and Shouta wants nothing more than to rip them off, but he resists. Instead, he rubs up your sides, slowly and purposefully, fingers barely dipping beneath the elastic of your bra so that he grazes the sides of your tits.

That makes you stir, eyes slowly opening as tired little noises make their way out of your throat.

“”zawa?” you ask quietly, and his self-control breaks.

“Shh, just relax,” he tells you in a low voice. “It’s okay, m’just taking care of you.”

He sees your eyebrows furrow, and you try to roll over, but his strong hand presses against the small of your back to keep you from turning.

He unclasps your bra, squirts a generous amount of aloe between your shoulder blades, and begins working again. At first he thinks you believe that his actions truly are innocent. You can’t see or feel how hard he is in his sweats, how precum is already beading at his tip.

That belief is shattered when he moves his hands upward again, this time sliding under you to cup your tits.

“Aizawa!” You push yourself so that you’re sitting up awkwardly, but all it does is make it easier for him to grope you and press his lips to your shoulder.

“You don’t have to pretend you don’t want this,” he drawls, smirking into your skin. “I haven’t forgotten about your little schoolgirl crush.” Because as much as you may have annoyed him in class, you still looked at him with hearts in your eyes. It was easy for him to deduce that all your smartass comments were just to get his attention.

“That doesn’t mean…” You trail off when he pinches both of your nipples, pulling a quiet moan from you.

“Just once, sweetheart. You owe me after teasing me the last few days.”

“I wasn’t…”

“Walking around in your short little dresses, prancing around with these pretty tits falling out of your bikini tops.” He gives you a tight squeeze before letting go of the plump flesh in order to trail his hands down further. “Let me have you just once.”

You only resist a little when he pushes you back down on the bed, face down again. You’ve lost your bra, and Shouta is quick to pull your cotton shorts down your legs, revealing that you’re wearing nothing underneath them.

He groans, groping your ass, bouncing your cheeks before spreading them to show your folds.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he growls, running a finger down your slit as far as he can. You’re already wet for him—such a good girl—but he still wants to get you slicked up and messy.

Shouta grabs the bottle of aloe vera once again, covering his fingers with it then slowly pushing two of them inside of you.

“Ahh, fuck, ‘zawa,” you gasp. With your cheek against the pillows, Shouta can see the way your mouth opens, eyes wide as they flick around to whatever you can see. Your body is tense, but you aren’t fighting him, thighs parting a little more.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he purrs. You don’t respond, just bite your bottom lip. Doesn’t matter. As long as you let him touch you he’ll be a happy man.

Pumping his fingers, Shouta stares at your reddened skin and gets the idea to mark you, presses his fingertips into your flesh then pulls them away, admiring the light circles they leave behind. Mesmerized, he grips your ass with one hand, squeezing to create those same marks just under the curve.

“Fuck, you’re sexy.” He punctuates it with a spank that makes you jolt, but you quickly melt when he curls his fingers a certain way. “You ready for my cock, baby? I’ll be gentle. I know you’re sore.”

A lie. He slicks himself up with more aloe then thrusts into your heat all at once, stretching you on his fat cock and holding you in place when you squirm.

“Y-you said… nnfuck.”

“I know what I said, but your pussy is just too—” he snaps his hips back and forth, eyes rolling in his head. “Too sweet. Can’t help it.”

Shouta tugs you up so that you’re on your knees, back pressed to him, and he knows the friction is hurting you, the coarse hair on his chest chafing your raw skin, but at this angle he can reach in front of you to play with your neglected clit, massaging it with two fingers.

“‘zawa let me… at least let me ride you,” you plead.

It’s a tempting thought, but… “you feel so good like this, though. So warm, taking my cock so well.”

He presses a hand low on your tummy, swears he can feel his dick moving, but he gets distracted when you let your head hang back to rest on his shoulder. Opportunity presents itself with your neck so open, and Shouta wraps his fingers around your throat, just barely squeezing.

He’s so deep inside you, cockhead nudging your cervix. Ohh, he wants to fuck you so full of his cum, wants to see you sprawled on the mattress dripping with him, wants to see you ruined.

Words stick in your throat, but your lips are moving like you want to say something. Shouta pants in your ear, “what is it, baby? What do you want?”

“Wanna—wanna cum,” you whimper, and now Shouta knows that you’ve fully accepted him. You’re not mad at him for fucking you, no. You want this. You want him.

“Cum, then,” he growls, nipping your earlobe. “Cum on my cock, I wanna feel your pussy—”

Your back arches painfully, sensitive skin pulling taut as you cry out and cream all over him. Feeling your cunt contract around him, Shouta fucks into you harder and deeper, using you like a rag doll as he gets lost in your climax, climbing to his own.

He’s not sure he’s ever cum so hard in his life, thick lines shooting from his dick and coating your guts. Shouta bites into your shoulder hard enough for you to yelp and try to slap him away, but all of his muscles are so tight that even his jaw is locked. His hips stutter as strings of white keep shooting into you, your used cunt so full of him that it starts leaking back out of you.

When he pulls out, Shouta scoops some of his cum out of you, dazed as he smears it down the pink of your spine.

“What the hell are you doing?” you ask breathlessly, falling forward onto the mattress and glaring.

Shouta shrugs his shoulders. “Aloe works just as good as lube. Maybe cum’ll work well as aloe.”

“That’s disgusting.”

So is he. But at least he finally learned to relax on his vacation.

2023©️shdo-xplosion. please do not plagiarize or repost my work to any other platforms.

[badkitty3000]

Can you please do a soft physical touch five x vivi story? Not smut, but just sweet stuff, like laying together watching tv, or reading together, or just little handholds in public ykwim

So, this was a fun request! I really enjoyed writing this. I wasn't quite sure how to connect a full story together, though, so I made a few little vignettes of Five and Vivie during their normal day-to-day married life. I hope this is still along the lines of what you were hoping for. Let me know! 😽❤️

Your Touch

Five x OC one shot, 3,318 words

Warnings: Swearing

It was early in the morning and the dark clouds covering the sky were blocking out any of the morning sun that would usually be casting cheery rays across the bed. The sound of the rain just beginning to fall and the wind the storm was bringing in could be heard just overhead on the roof above them. It was cozy and warm under the covers and Vivian blinked a few times into the dimness of the room. When she realized it was early but she didn’t have to get up for work, she nestled deeper into the blankets with a relieved sigh. Then, about two minutes later, her eyes popped open again. Of course, she couldn’t fall back asleep now.

“Figures,” she muttered angrily.

Then she turned to where Five was sleeping peacefully and undisturbed next to her. A bolt of lightning flashed outside the darkened window and a loud clap of thunder quickly followed it, shaking the panes in the frame. Viv jumped but Five never even moved. She looked over at him with a frown.

“Man, that’s annoying,” she said to herself.

Five might have terrible nightmares some nights and would wake up in a blind panic, but the majority of the time he slept like a rock. He told Vivian it was because he had to get used to sleeping in all kinds of conditions, both in the Apocalypse and during assignments with the Commission. When Viv had questioned him as to how a supposed assassin could sleep that soundly, he explained that if there were any real danger, he’d be sure to wake up. She had her doubts.

Seeing as how it looked like she wasn’t going to be able to sleep any longer, Viv decided to get up and make some coffee. She tossed the covers back and sat up. When she put her feet on the floor, she felt an arm slip around her waist. She looked behind her to see Five, partially awake, but with his eyes still closed.

“No, stay,” he murmured as he tugged her back onto the bed. Viv smiled and let him pull her in closer, wrapping both of his arms around her. “You’re so warm,” Five said with a sigh.

“Are you just using me for warmth?” Viv teased, even as she snuggled into him.

“Yes,” he answered with a tiny upturn of the corner of his mouth.

“If that’s the case, I’m getting up,” she said, pretending to pull away from him again.

Five immediately grabbed her tighter. “Nope.” Then he opened one eye and smirked. “It’s dark and there’s a storm. Didn’t you hear that thunder? You’re staying right here.”

“Faker!” she cried with a giggle. “I thought you were sleeping this whole time.”

“I’m very good at playing possum. It’s a defense tactic,” Five said as he adjusted his body so Viv could rest her head on his chest and he closed his eyes again. “Have to catch your enemies off guard.”

“I’ll remember that the next time you’re supposedly napping when I need you to take the garbage out.”

“Damn it, I just blew my cover,” Five chuckled. Then he kissed her on the forehead and sighed happily. “Let’s just stay here all day.”

“I won’t object to that,” Viv answered. Then she looked up at Five with a smile. “You’re so cute, you know that?”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “I am not cute.”

“Yes you are.” Viv poked him in the chest. “You’re adorable.”

Five had no response to that except for a huffy exhale. They laid there in silence for a couple of minutes, just listening to the patter of the rain and the distant rumble of thunder. Five stroked her hair idly and Viv traced patterns with her fingertips across Five’s chest and arm. He rubbed his cheek across the top of her head.

“I think if this were my last day on earth…again…and I got to spend it like this, I’d be ok with that,” he mused.

Viv smiled and snuggled in closer. “While I certainly hope we have many more days ahead of us, I think I’d be pretty ok with it, too.”

❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️

“What are you reading?”

Vivian walked into their living room where Five was intensely studying the book in front of him; a glass of whiskey sitting on the side table next to him. He didn’t look up when she came in.

“A book,” he answered.

Viv rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I got that. What’s the book?”

Five glanced up quickly. “Modern Canonical Quantum General Relativity.” He looked back down at the book again.

“Sounds like a real page turner.”

Five shrugged, not picking up on the sarcasm, but didn’t look up. “Not really. It was published in 2007 so it’s pretty antiquated. And some of it is just laughably incorrect, but every once in a while, I stumble across something interesting.”

Viv snorted, trying to contain her laughter. “It’s a good thing you’re hot, because wow, are you a giant nerd.”

He gave one more quick glance up at her, his eyebrows knitted together. “Is there something I can help you with, or are you just here to bust my balls and interrupt my quiet time?”

She shrugged and plopped down onto the cushion next to him. “Pretty much just to bust your balls. But I was going to put a movie on unless that’s going to annoy you too much?”

Five gestured vaguely in front of him. “Knock yourself out.”

Viv looked over at her husband, who was deep in concentration while reading a book no other human alive would ever want to read, and she smiled to herself. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead and flipped the page. She loved these little candid moments when she could just watch him and all of his little quirks that made him undeniably Five. And she loved that he never felt the need to hide them from her.

She turned the TV on and chose an old movie that she’d seen a thousand times before. Settling in, she swung her legs up and propped her feet onto Five’s lap. He moved his book out of the way to make room, giving her the side eye, and sighed dramatically.

“Must you put your stinky feet on me?” he grumbled, although he made no move to push them off.

“They’re not stinky!” She wiggled her toes to show off her purple cat socks. “They’re cute.”

Five made no comment, just gave an exaggerated eye roll and returned to his book. His free hand came to rest on the top of her foot, which she noticed with a small grin but didn’t say anything.

After a few minutes, he started to rub her foot with one hand, while holding his book in the other. Viv didn’t turn away from the TV screen, but she let out a soft little sigh as he massaged her sole and applied pressure with his thumb. After another few moments, Five finally set his book down on the table and turned his attention to the TV.

“So, what dumb movie is this?” he asked, as he started using both of his hands to knead her feet in earnest.

“Talladega Nights. Haven’t you ever seen this before, it’s a classic!”

Five just gave her a withering look and when Viv saw, she winced and smiled sheepishly. “Right. Apocalypse. Well, I keep saying you need to catch up on pop culture, so watch it with me. It’s hilarious.”

“It looks moronic.”

Viv sighed. “Yeah, that’s kind of the point. Now shut up and keep rubbing my feet, old man.”

“Pain in my ass,” Five grumbled under his breath, but continued his foot massage and shut up like instructed.

Halfway through the movie, they had moved so that they were both sprawled out on the couch, with Five spooning Vivian from behind. An old, soft blanket was thrown over the top of them. He rested his hand on her hip and would occasionally run his fingers up and down her arm or give her a quick peck on the shoulder.

Even though he mentioned several times how dumb of a movie it was, Viv caught him laughing during a few parts, which made her laugh even harder. She loved when he could finally relax and admit that even stupid shit like this was funny.

“Ricky Bobby reminds me of you a little,” Viv said with a giggle, referring to the idiot main character of the movie.

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“When he says ‘I wake up in the morning and I piss excellence’. Sounds just like you.”

As she snorted at her own joke and cracked herself up, Five huffed and pretended to push her off the couch before catching her at the last second when she shrieked. He pulled her in tightly against him, his arm around her waist, giving her a squeeze.

“You know, you’re not nearly as hilarious as you think you are,” Five told her as he poked a finger into her side, making her squeal. “I do piss excellence, though, that’s not a lie.”

“Oh boy…” she answered with a loud exhale. Then she took his hand in hers, drawing his arm even tighter around her. Five nuzzled his face into her hair.

“So, what bad movie are you going to make me watch, next?” he asked her with a soft kiss on top of her head.

“You want to watch another one?”

He nodded, closing his eyes with a smile. “I’ll watch whatever inane thing you want me to if you stay cuddled up with me like this.”

Viv turned her head toward him, putting a hand on his cheek and kissing him. “My sweet, snuggly, teddy bear of a stone-cold killer,” she said with a soft laugh, before turning back again and getting comfortable.

Five chuckled. “Don’t you dare tell anyone.”

Viv squeezed his hand and brought it up to give it a quick kiss. “Your secret is safe with me. Now, let’s watch Anchorman. You’ll love it.”

He sighed that sigh that meant he couldn’t believe how this woman had turned him into such a soft pushover. “Ok, darling. Whatever you say.”

❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️

“Do we have to go to this thing?” Five asked with a slight whine to his voice. He was standing in front of the full-length mirror in their bedroom, putting on his tie. “You know I hate this shit.”

“Yes, we have to go,” Viv told him for the tenth time as she fixed her earring. “We can’t be the asshole neighbors that ignore everyone else and don’t socialize at least a little bit.”

“Why not? I have absolutely no problem being that type of neighbor.”

Viv walked up to him, turning him to face her with hands on his shoulders. She started to straighten his tie and fix his shirt collar. “May I remind you that you are the one that wanted to move to the suburbs? This isn’t like the city where you can just blend into a crowd and not talk to anyone. We are expected to be cordial here.”

Five scrunched his eyebrows together. “Well, no one told me that. That may have factored into my decision, had I known.”

Viv smiled and shook her head as she patted his chest. “You’ll be fine. It’s just for a couple of hours.”

“And what kind of adult throws themselves a birthday party for turning 50? It’s absurd.” There was a pause and Viv braced herself for what she knew was coming next. “Do you know what I was doing for my 50th birthday?”

“Christ, here we go…” she whispered under her breath as she turned away.

“Digging a fucking hole in a dried-up riverbed with a worn-down stub of a shovel and my own two hands! Just to get some water to drink. Not throwing myself a stupid party.”

“Well, maybe you should have. Dolores probably could have used a break from your bitching,” Viv muttered before turning around and seeing his face. She broke out in a grin when she saw him standing there with his arms crossed, his head cocked to the side, and his lips pressed into a thin line. “Sorry. But I really think you’re over-reacting. It’s just a party.”

Five stalked over to the bed and grabbed his suit jacket, shoving his arms through and shrugging it on. “Fine. But when I want to leave, we’re leaving,” he barked with a finger pointed in her direction for emphasis.

Viv approached him and took his hands in hers, looking up at his stressed-out face. “I promise we won’t be there too long, ok?”

Five’s muscles relaxed a little. “Ok, but don’t leave me alone for too long. I get…twitchy.”

She nodded and rubbed her thumbs over the backs of his hands, feeling the raised map of tendons and veins that traversed over them. “I know you do. But I won’t leave you. And if I see you’re getting too anxious we can leave.”

He gave a terse nod. “Alright. Now let’s go to this stupid fucking thing before I change my mind.”

The party was at a house down the street, so they walked over. As soon as they entered the crowded house, Viv heard Five groan next to her. Everything was decorated in streamers and colorful balloons, like a kid’s party, and many of the adult guests were wearing paper party hats. She grabbed his arm and gave it a squeeze as a warning. The host of the party had started making their way over to them, wearing a giant sash that said “Birthday Girl” on it, at just the precise moment that Viv felt the staticky sensation of Five’s powers prickling against her skin.

She leaned in a little closer to Five and whispered through clenched teeth. “Don’t even think about it.”

He grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, but then the brief electrical pulse faded away and he plastered on a fake smile.

“Happy birthday!” Viv told the newly 50 year-old as she gave them a hug.

“Yes, happy birthday,” Five echoed dryly. “What a great idea to have a party like this. Like a toddler.”

Viv shot daggers at him, but their neighbor apparently wasn’t picking up on Five’s sarcasm.

“I know! I figured any excuse to act like a kid again and pretend I’m not old as dirt is a good one. There’s even a pinata in the back!” they laughed while clapping excitedly.

“Fucking hell,” Five exhaled quietly, with only his wife picking up on it.

Viv quickly intervened. “Thank you so much for inviting us, we’ve really been looking forward to it.”

“Of course! Now, help yourself to anything. There’s plenty of food and drinks. The bar is over there,” they pointed to an area towards the other side of the room that appeared to be staffed with a professional bartender.

“Thank you,” Viv answered.

“First bit of good news tonight,” Five said out loud, forgetting to be quiet.

Luckily, the host had already turned away and was on their way to greet someone else, so they missed the snarky remark. Viv looked up at Five with a scowl.

“Would you cut it out? You’re being rude.”

He sighed. “You’re right, I’m sorry. But can we go get a drink?”

She nodded. “Yeah, let’s go. I could use one, too. I hate to admit it, but this party is a little weird.”

About an hour and two Manhattans later, Five was being cornered by another neighbor from across the street. The man was trying to sell Five on the importance of having a legal will drawn up, in the event of an untimely death.

“You don’t want to burden your loved ones with all of that responsibility when the time comes. And you never know when that will be, either, that’s the kicker. You could be walking down the street one day, and BAM!” He clapped his hands loudly for effect. “You get hit by a bus.”

Five took a sip of his drink with glazed over eyes. “Or you could watch yourself die right in front of you while the world collapses in on itself and you have an existential crisis.”

The man paused and tilted his head. “I don’t get it. Is that like a metaphor or something?”

Five swallowed and looked around the room for Vivian. “Something like that,” he answered blandly.

He finally caught Viv’s eye across the room. She was in the middle of a conversation with someone, but as soon as she saw Five’s situation, she excused herself and walked over to him. He had been standing with one hand in his pants pocket, and when she approached, she looped her arm around his. She immediately felt the tension in his body release. Five smiled down at her while the other man seized the opportunity to unleash his sales pitch onto another victim.

As Viv stood there, politely smiling and nodding along, she crept her fingers up under the cuff of Five’s jacket and slid them onto the inside of his wrist. Finding the area she knew was tattooed with the faded black Umbrella Academy symbol, she traced light circles over it. Five let out a quiet breath of air as some of his anxieties started to wane. After a few minutes of listening to the man’s ramblings, Viv cut in.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I just remembered we have to go let the dog out.”

The man frowned. “I didn’t know you guys had a dog. I’ve never seen it.”

Five jumped in, more than happy to play along with his wife’s lie if it meant he could get out of there. “Oh yeah, had it for years. Big giant thing, barks its head off all day.” He turned to Viv. “Well, dear, should we get going? Don’t want to keep Mr. Pennycrumb waiting.”

Viv blinked up at him with a smile and bit her lip to stop from laughing. “No, we don’t.” Then she turned back toward the very confused looking neighbor. “It’s been really great talking to you. Very informative.”

After a few hasty goodbyes, with Viv still attached to Five’s arm, they finally made it back out into fresh air and on their way home. Five slid his clenched-up fist out of his pocket and unfurled it to intertwine his fingers with hers. Viv briefly leaned in and rested her head on his shoulder as they walked along.

“You survived. Just like I knew you would,” she told him.

“Barely,” Five answered.

They were silent for a minute, their dress shoes clipping along the pavement while they walked hand in hand.

“Thank you, Vivie,” Five said quietly as he looked over at her. “I don’t know how you do it, but thank you.”

Viv stopped, standing in front of Five. She reached up and brushed a piece of hair out of his eyes. “You’re welcome.”

Five took her hand and held it to his cheek before kissing her palm with a smile. “You know I’m a mess without you.”

She shook her head. “No you’re not. Sometimes you just need a little reminder that you’re not alone anymore, that’s all.”

Five drew her in for a hug and she wrapped her arms around his waist. “No, it’s more than that,” he said. “More than you’ll ever know.”

He leaned down to kiss her before they started back on their walk home.

“Just so we’re clear, though. If we’re ever invited to another one of those things, it’s been nice knowing you, because I’ll have jumped as far into the future as I can manage.”

Viv grinned up at him and took his hand again. “Well, take me with you next time, because that really was a horrible party.”

❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️❤️☂️

Thanks for reading! I'm open for requests or just to shoot the shit about Five. Please reblog if you like it! 😽

Here's a link to my Masterlist

[yuri-is-online]

Jade would be VERY pleased about finally having another club member. I would be happy to listen to him info dump while we look at mushrooms and neat nature stuff.

I let this sit in my ask box for too long but I've had this idea kicking around in my head for a while and then harveston had to go and drop that one line validating my delusions and you've given me an excuse to post it ha

notes: they/them used for Yuu, violence against animals (a bear), swearing at animals (the same bear), Yuu is unnaturally strong (enough to fight a bear), Yuu is implied to have grown up in a forest/woodsy environment, Jade typical blackmail. Other more serious fic can be found on my masterlist here.

Once upon a time, back when you first arrived in this world, you had been unsure how to feel about NRC. Castles existed back home, sure, but ones like this belonged firmly in illustrations or video games; it felt a but nauseating to walk through your wildest dreams brought to life, even if it was exciting sometimes. It was little wonder to you then that the idea of a Mountain Lover's Club was so appealing.

"Did you hike a lot back home?" Trey has that strange smile on his face that suggests you have made him tense somehow.

"Yes. I practically grew up in the woods." The flow of wind through the branches, the smell of fresh rain on the decomposing earth below, all of it wrapped you in a familiar sense of serenity even if the tree line was completely foreign to you. What are men to rocks and mountains after all? You could make yourself right at home here-

"I still don't think you should join." Trey says with all the air of a man who is certainly not telling you something, but the surprising harsh nod of agreement Riddle gives before injecting himself into the conversation convinces you more than whatever Trey had in mind likely could.

"I'm not entirely certain what they do," Riddle has never forbid you from participating in things since you and his dorm-mates brought him back to his senses," but if you want to hike it might be safer if you did it by yourself, assuming you let one of us know when you are going and when you expect to be back. It wouldn't do to have something that brings you so much joy used against you prefect, none of us want that." But he has always expressed concern when he thinks things to be unsafe, and in this case his argument was something you found yourself agreeing with. Hiking is best done at your own pace anyway, why get a club full of self-centered assholes involved in your me time? Though you did wish now they had been a bit more... specific with their concerns. Maybe outlined some of the club's scheduling, but then they would have needed to ask him and in so doing betrayed your interest.

Which would have been much less embarrassing than how Jade actually found out. Because of course he did, was there ever any doubt he would? ~~~~ There is a creek not far up the mountain path behind your dorm you like to rest at when coming back from your adventures. It's a good place to check over the photos on your camera and enjoy the last few rays of sunlight before returning to whatever mess Grim had made in Ramshackle searching for where you had moved all the tuna cans. Sometimes he joined you, and the two of you would have a little picnic up the path a bit further, but that day had not been one of those days. Nor had the day you met this particular nemesis who is staring you down from just across the creek with such a judgmental glance you would think this was a Sunday brunch and not an afternoon meander through the forest.

"The fuck do you want bitch?" You snarl and the bear indignantly sniffs as if to imply she's better than you. "Oh I'm sorry I didn't realize it was my fault your face is so fucking crooked, thought you were just born that way." She huffs again, making a big show of turning her back on you as you rush to get your equipment off and tucked safely out of reach before the skankiest grizzly you've ever met whips around and charges you shrieking something about "how dare you steal her man!!!!" and blah blah blah "I'll show you, you good for nothing hussy!!!!" as if you could actually understand her and this wasn't a three act play you insisted on writing yourself. You weren't even sure this bear was a girl if you stopped to think about it in between punches, not that you really cared. She huffs and makes a valiant attempt to pin you as you snarl and flash your teeth and beat her right back into the creek laughing at what sounds like pathetic winging about "kids these days!!!" and how rude you are for-

A startled noise pauses your match, as you both turn, harsh glares towards a break in the thicket where a very out of place, very surprised looking man stands, hand infuriatingly poised casually at his chin. His infuriating smirk doesn't unfurl until you growl, deep and low reverberating through your opponent just enough that she decides to leave for the day while you are preoccupied.

"Oya, this is a surprise." Jade doesn't move and you stay firm in the creek, body shaking with unspent adrenaline as he decides to move just a bit closer. "If you were that desperate for a sparring partner, I'm sure Floyd would have obliged, animal abuse is not exactly legal you know?"

"What the fuck are you doing here." You spit before you exit the creek, a flash of something darting through Jade's eyes as his gaze darts between you and your pack on the ground.

"Me? I should be asking that of you. The Mountain Lover's Club had to go through quite an ordeal to get permission to leave the school grounds unsupervised..." His teeth begin to show as you crash down from your high, you hadn't actually thought of whether or not you would need to talk to someone other than a friend about where you were going... surely Riddle would have mentioned something if you did? Or did he not think to ask since he wasn't the adventurous sort? "I can't imagine how the Headmage would react to know his ward had been sneaking out to terrorize the local wildlife."

"Hey Brenda started it!" You snap and Jade looks briefly towards the treeline where a very indignant bear is pursing her lips and inspecting her claws, the very picture of innocence if he does say so himself. "She stole my sandwich while I was taking pictures of the sunset!"

"Maybe you should have had someone there to hold it for you." He laughs, finally moving from his spot towards you and your pack, eyes gleaming with familiarity as he looks over your things. "Perhaps, someone who would be willing to... forget about what he just saw if they accompanied him next time?" It's a threat using what gives you joy against you certainly, and you huff indignantly at it but don't deny his request. Jade is an eel of his word, and his joy at doubling the Mountain Lover's Club membership cannot be contained as he ushers you the rest of the way down the mountain, eager to plan your first expedition together.

Not that he intends to ever delete the pictures he took. Your angry face is just too cute.