#regret flattening everything

[rafeandonlyrafe]

perfect wife

words: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding, mating press, established relationship, marriage, housewife stuff? cooking and cleaning

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog

it’s not that you enjoy cleaning all the time, but you get in certain moods, when your energy level is high and you got enough sleep the night before, that you absolutely love to clean, especially satisfying deep cleans.

today happens to be one of those days, and ever since you woke up, smiling at the note that rafe left you on his pillow, wishing you a good morning and saying he regretted not being there with you upon waking up, but also couldn’t bear rousing you from your sleep when he had to leave for work. it makes your heart flutter to see it signed not by his name but rather ‘from, your husband.’

you’ve been married to rafe for two whole months now, and it feels like a fairytale, somehow even better than being his girlfriend. you feel like a truly good wife as you already scrubbed all the bathrooms spotless before 10 am, and are now working on the common areas before hopefully cleaning the bedroom before rafe gets home from work.

you hum along to the music you have playing throughout the house wide sound system as you wipe down dusty surfaces, taking care to clean all the little crevices that normally get missed. 

time flies and before you realize, your stomach starts to grumble as noon rolls by. you take a pause from your work, having just finished the living room, and move into the kitchen, deciding to make yourself some food before getting to cleaning.

you love to bake, but cooking is not your favorite thing, so you make yourself something simple before you get a spark of creativity, making a stew to simmer so it would be ready by the time rafe got home around dinner. you finish your meal, having disregarded it halfway through to make the stew. 

you clean the kitchen while stirring occasionally before it gets to the point that you can lower the temperature and walk away, now off to clean the bedroom. you grab rafes hamper, filled with clean clothes that he didn’t have time to put away last night, too busy kissing and cuddling with you in bed.

you dump them onto the freshly washed bedsheets, taking the time and care to crisply fold everything or hang up what went on hangers. you even spend some time organizing rafes closet. he kept it pretty clean already, but you wanted to make everything perfect.

you run downstairs to check your stew before continuing onto your closet, it being a much bigger mess than rafes. you have a terrible habit of trying on clothes, deciding its not want you want to wear for the day, and tossing it onto the floor instead of putting it properly away.

“baby!” you hear rafe shout just as you finish up. you quickly flatten your hands over the comforter on the bed, smoothing out any creases to make the room truly flawless before you rush down the stairs, greeting your husband with a kiss as your arms loop around his shoulders.

“something smells good.” rafe says, taking a sniff of the entryway, the smell of the stew having radiated throughout the whole house.

“i made you food.” you tell him, smoothing your hands over his shoulders, keeping your body close to his having missed him all day. “it should be ready in about 30 minutes, just enough time for you to shower.” you know rafes routine well enough, he liked to shower right when he got home from work, to wash the day away.

“you’re the most perfect wife ever.” rafe bends his head to press kisses to your neck, making you giggle when he focuses on your ticklish spot.

“go shower!” you shoo him away, wanting him to have the soup when it is nice and hot.

“love you, honey.” rafe kisses your cheek before heading up the stairs. you echo the words back to him before heading towards the kitchen to check on the stew, but pause when you hear rafe calling your name from your bedroom.

you rush up the stairs, worried that you maybe accidentally threw something out that was important or moved something and he didn’t know where it was.

“what is it rafey?” you question, eyes wide as you see him looking around the room.

“you cleaned all this while i was at work? and put away my laundry?” rafe questions, seeing that even the baseboards have been cleaned of the bit of dust that always collects on them.

you give a shrug. “i like cleaning for you.” “you know you don’t have to do all this baby.” rafe moves to wrap his arms around your waist. “i mean i appreciate it, but don’t feel like you’re required to now that we are married.” “i know.” you smile, cupping his jaw in your hands. “i seriously just wanted to.” “okay.” rafe nods, satisfied with your answer. he knows you get little bursts of cleaning, but doesn’t want you to get the wrong impression about your role, even if you do stay home while he is at work.

“go shower.” you press a kiss to rafes lips before leaving him in the bedroom, smirking to yourself knowing that he’s about to see that you cleaned the bathroom as well.

you return to the stovetop, stirring everything together before preparing the final touches, even setting out the perfect silverware for the occasion, choosing the dining room for such a meal rather than the island where you and rafe usually eat.

you jump when rafe enters the kitchen. he always moves so quietly through the house that it catches you off guard.

“god, if we weren’t already married i would propose to you all over again right now.” rafe wraps his arms around your waist as you work on ladling the stew into individual bowls, deciding to keep the rest in the pot on the stove for easy splitting up into tupperware later.

“i like making food for you.” you hum. “don’t expect it all the time though, i also love getting take out.”

rafe laughs and nods his head in agreement, you have a habit of ordering food at least two times a week, making it a tradition on fridays to watch an episode of tv while you eat in the living room.

“let me carry them in.” rafe stops you before you can carry the bowls yourself, picking them up and following you into the dining room.

you blow on your spoon to cool the stew as rafe begins to eat, commentating over and over how delicious it is, even going so far as to moan and roll his eyes back into his head, but when you take a bite you can’t help but admit that it’s very good.

“when we finish eating-” rafe says after a few minutes of silence, too engrossed in your meal. “i’m going to take you upstairs and fuck you.” “rafe!” you giggle at the sudden lewdness.

“i’m serious, baby. i need to after you did all this cleaning, put away my laundry and made me food? i need to put a baby in you immediately.” 

“well��� hurry up and get back to eating.” you gesture to rafe. you talked about having kids after marriage, but this was the first time since your wedding that rafe brought up actually bringing them into the world.

you both rush through the rest of your meals, leaving the dishes on the table to be taken care of tomorrow as rafe sweeps you into his arms, carrying you up the stairs with ease. he sets you down on the bed, his lips connecting with yours as he works on taking off his pants, throwing them in the general direction of his hamper before pulling away to pull your shirt off over your head.

“i can’t fucking wait to see you all filled up with my kid.” rafe says, massaging your breasts through your bra, unable to keep his hands off of them, even to take off the fabric covering them.

“need that so bad, rafey.” you whimper. you’ve always wanted to be a mom, and it feels like the perfect time to make that dream a reality.

“gotta fuck you now, princess.” rafe says, quickly taking his shirt off, his cock already completely hard as he pulls his underwear down, clearly excited to put a baby into you.

you reach behind your back to take your bra off before sliding your leggings and underwear down in one go, needing rafe just as desperately as he needs you. you move up the bed, resting your head on the pillow as rafe moves to hover over you. 

“i would eat you out or finger you but i need this right now.” rafe says, reaching down to rub at your clit as his tip presses against your entrance.

“i need you right now too.” you tell him, letting out a moan as he pushes in, moving slowly to let you adjust. you wrap your arms around his shoulders, rafes chest heaving with deep breaths, trying to control himself.

“you can move.” you tell rafe after a minute. he doesn’t give even a second for your comment to sit before he is thrusting in and out, making your joint moans echo throughout the room.

rafe presses sloppy kisses against yours, lips vibrating together when you’re both unable to hold back your noises of pleasure. “feels so good.” you whimper, his thumb still rubbing against your clit, never stopping making you feel good.

“i know it does, princess.” rafe says. “you’re doing so good for me. gonna fill you up real good.” “you’re gonna be the best daddy.” you tell rafe, and its true, you know just from the way he treats you, how he straightened out and takes care of you, that he’s going to be an amazing dad.

“fuck-” rafe curses, somehow able to move faster, slamming in and out of you, annihilating your cunt with the ferocity he is thrusting into you at. rafe is grunting with the effort he is giving as you grip his shoulders tightly, sure to leave red marks from your nails come morning.

“gonna go fucking crazy, your pussy is so good.” rafe says, as if he hasn’t already gone crazy with the way he’s fucking into you.

“keep rubbing rafe, i’m close.” you moan, back arching off the bed as his thumb rubs over your clit easily due to your slick.

“cum for me princess.” rafe begs you, needing to feel your cunt squeeze around him. you’d never deny your husband as he rubs you to orgasm, entire body shaking as your high hits you, moaning wildly as rafes cock maintains its blistering pace.

as soon as your clit pulses underneath his finger and your back settles back against the bed, rafe moves, pulling out briefly to reposition you, slotting his hands underneath your knees and pushing your legs up and open, spreading your cunt wide for him before his cock reenters you.

he begins to thrust immediately, keeping up the aggressive, feral pace. you’re so sensitive from your orgasm but you can’t complain when you know he’s working to get his cum inside of you, to fill you up, to grow your family.

“gonna cum.” rafe warns briefly, his words slurred out, his eyes half lidded from the ecstasy of your cunt as he pushes in for a final time, shooting his cum as deep as he can, leaning forward and pressing you into the mattress, not even caring as your thighs burn from the stretch.

rafe grinds himself into you until there is nothing more to release, moving your legs back to a more comfortable position but keeping his dick buried deep inside of you.

rafe looks at you with a smile, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. “gotta make sure it takes.”

[jungwondazed]

dark content 18+ only. / pervy step brother jungwon

warnings: step siblings kink

you sneakily walk past his room but his eyes catch yours as he sits at the edge of his bed.

"hey, ____." you hear as you're right past his door, mentally face-palming yourself for not being able to keep your eyes forward. maybe if you weren't so nosy.

clearing your throat, you take a few steps back and turn your body towards his room, and he motions you to come in.

"can i help you with anything?" he asks with both his brows slightly raised in mockery.

a red warmth creeps onto your cheeks and you try everything in you to look at everything but his face.

"n-no" your voice is a bit squeakier than usual, and later when you look back on this moment you regret not fleeing for the nearest exit.

he softly laughs at your weak response and motions you to come closer to him. standing in between his legs with his eye level to your midriff was entirely inappropriate, and you pray to the heavens no one walks in on this moment, because you would be at a loss for what to explain.

jungwon softly tugs at the bottom of your oversized knit sweater, pulling at a loose string that should've been cut ages ago. it was a dorky sweater and frankly, it was hitting you how ridiculously dressed you were. far from appealing and way too modest for a spring day in april.

he runs his eyes up and down your choice of clothing, frowning a bit as if he was a designer adjusting his mannequin.

"does this not fit you right?" initially tugging at the bottom he then pulls your sweater so that you're now just inches away from his face.

he brings his hands to grope the sides of your waist, then flattens his palm to feel your stomach through the chunky knit material and you gasp at his sudden handsiness.

"i just don't think this was good top to wear today, ____, here let me take a look at it some more," his eyes are darting everywhere on your upper body and it makes your face heat in extreme embarrassment. and you remember that you ditched a bra today because 'no one would be able to tell if you were wearing one anyways' through a thick ugly sweater, but the way his eyes stare right at where you're self-conscious about, you're certain you were wrong.

he's fondling you now, massaging your breasts through the fabric and you weakly moan at his rough hands. please please let no one walk in right now please.

jungwon lifts the bottom of the sweater up, slowly bringing his face in to press against your stomach, closing his eyes as he inhales on your skin, like a sick and perverted fucker. he nearly groans at your scent before pressing his lips against your skin. peppering sloppy pecks at the middle, to your lower abdomen, and back up towards your waist.

"way better off without this sweater," he breathes out the words in between his kisses, flattening his tongue against your skin and licking you all over your stomach now. it was vulgar, and he was disgusting with his licks, wet smacking sounds filling the room as he made out against it.

he sticks out his tongue to trace you with just his tip, bringing it out towards the side of your waist and up towards-

"oh, ____, you did this just for me didn't you?" his hands are holding the fabric right at your breasts, exposing just the underside of it, bringing the tip of his tongue to lick at whatever skin was revealed.

you throw your head back in sensitivity, fists clenched at your sides as you barely handle what he's giving you.

footsteps are heard down the hall and he immediately lowers your sweater, swiping his mouth with the back of his palm and gently pushing you back.

"ah there you guys are!" your father just makes it in the door frame as you stumble back on your steps.

jungwon gives a polite wave to your dad, and your eyes are glued to the floor, mind reeling and breathing labored from whatever the hell just happened.

[moonstruckme]

hey if you don’t mind, I’ve been struggling with a lot of anxiety and it makes my chest hurt a bunch so maybe you could rwrite something like that with anyone you’d like, ofc if you’d rather not that’s totally.

have a wonderful day dearie

Thanks for requesting baby, I'm really sorry you're dealing with that! I hope maybe you're feeling a bit better by now.

cw: anxiety, chest pain

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Remus knows you mainly watch this show because he likes it, and yet he’s dozing off. After a long shift at the hospital, the clashing of swords sounds about as lulling as a thunderstorm outside the bedroom window to his tired ears, and his head slowly slumps backwards against the couch cushion. When snuggle closer to his side, head needling its way almost into his armpit, he thinks you’re trying to get him to wake up. 

“Sorry.” His voice comes out raspy, drowsiness clinging to his vocal chords like a paste. 

You pull away, looking up at him. “Oh no,” you murmur, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

The guilt in your voice has him responding instinctively, “It’s okay.” Remus drapes an arm across your shoulders, encouraging you back to where you were. “I was only resting my eyes.” It’s a flimsy excuse and you both know it, so he moves on quickly. “What’s up, hm?” 

“I was wondering if I could have a hug,” you say quietly, tentatively, your eyes not quite on his, “if that’s okay.” 

Remus checks himself before he can look too surprised. “Of course it’s okay,” he says, tightening his grip on you. 

Granted permission, you go all out. You turn your body into his, both arms wrapping tight around his midsection and face burrowing in the soft material of his sweater. Remus adjusts his hold to get a better grip on you. He brings his other hand to your head, cupping the back firmly. 

Asking for affection like this, so explicitly, is unexpected from you. It makes Remus feel like he’s just had a cup of tea, spreading warmth through his insides and leaving a pleasant aftertaste on his tongue. You hate to need him, but he loves to let you. He’ll take any chance to take care of you. He likes to think a secretive little part of you likes to be cared for, too. 

The exhaustion in his bones melts into something heavy and fond as he pets the back of your head. “Everything alright, sweetheart?” 

You hum into his armpit. “Just felt like I needed this, for some reason.” 

“Any reason’s good enough for me,” Remus half-jokes, dropping a kiss onto the crown of your head. “Did you have a long day, too?” 

“Not really.” Your voice dips into a lower register, disgruntled and bemused. You turn your face up so you can see him but don’t pull away, scooting closer to tighten your hold. “Nothing’s happened, I just feel a bit off, I guess. My chest hasn’t stopped hurting all afternoon.” 

He can see the regret in your expression when his eyebrows go up, and Remus laughs. 

“Oi, what’s that look about?” 

“I’m not trying to put you on the clock.” 

“No,” he says, smiling as he kisses your hairline, “You’re not, honey.” But he does reach for the remote, pausing the TV and silencing your background noise. 

Your eyes narrow. “You’ve got that serious look, though.” 

“That’s just my face, I can’t really help it.” Admittedly, chest pain worries him. Remus is prone to worrying about anything that ails you; it's where his job and his boyfriend duties collide. Still, he doubts you’ve been having a heart attack for the entire afternoon, so he’s not going to frighten you by telling you about the vast number of things chest pain can point to. “Where does it hurt? Can you show me?” 

You sigh and lean back, putting space between your chest and Remus’ side. “Sort of here,” you say, flattening your palm over your sternum. 

“Is it a concentrated pain,” he asks, “or more of an ache?” 

“More like an ache,” you admit. “It’s sort of, like, burning? But that sounds more dramatic than it really is.” 

He ignores the last part of your statement, setting his hand on your chest and pushing down gently. “Does that make it worse?” 

You shake your head, and Remus hums. You haven’t been coughing; he would have noticed. He works two fingers under your jaw. 

“What else feels weird, sweetheart?” 

“I’m not sure,” you tell him, starting to sound a bit raw. “I just feel…not right, you know? Is that bad?” 

“No, I don’t think so,” he says, letting his fingers drop from your pulse point. ”I think you’re mostly okay.” He uses both hands to pull you into his lap. “C’mere, baby dove.” 

You seem far from unhappy at being moved, pushing your face into Remus’ neck and letting him rest his chin atop your head. “What?” you ask. 

“Did you have coffee this afternoon?” 

“Yeah.” You sound cautious. “Why?” 

“And did you eat before?” 

“Remus.” Your warning tone is undercut by unease. 

He kisses your head in apology. “I think your chest hurts because you’re anxious, honey,” he says. “The caffeine probably made it worse.” 

You go quiet for a minute. Remus rubs your back, sorry for the invisibility of your hurt but relieved that its cause isn’t something more sinister. When you pull away, you’re frowning. 

“I don’t think it’s that,” you say. “It’s never felt like this before.” 

Remus feels his mouth slant in sympathy. “I think coffee without eating is already a bad idea, but then if you got anxious and we started watching a stressful show,” he tries to convey some apology in his expression, “it might have made your nerves feel worse than you’re used to.” 

“I think I’m only nervous because my chest hurts.” You blow out a breath. “It’s kind of a chicken and egg thing, yeah?” 

Remus hums, running his hand up the length of your spine. He can feel your heart beating beneath his palm. “Humor me for a minute?” 

You sigh again. It looks strenuous. “Sure.” 

“Breathe with me,” he instructs, folding you back towards his front. You go willingly, though you seem tenser now than before, your hands nearly rigid on his back. “In for eight.” 

He listens to be sure you’re doing it with him, feeling your chest expand against his own. He lets his palm lie still beneath your shoulder blades, sneaking a gauge of your heart rate. 

“Hold for eight.” 

Remus feels your nose press into his collar. He turns his lips into your forehead, holding his lungs at their full capacity and knowing that if it’s difficult for him, it has to be considerably worse for you. 

By the time you’re finished breathing out it's a relief for you both, and you turn your face up to his with a bit less skepticism. 

“That was hard,” you admit. 

Remus bites back an I-told-you-so, but he knows his smile must say enough of it when you roll your eyes good-naturedly. 

“Why don’t I change it to something a bit lighter,” he says, nodding towards the TV. “We can do more breathing during the commercial breaks, yeah?” 

You appear to consider this. “And we can keep cuddling?” 

Remus’ chuckle lures a smile out of you. He’s exceedingly gratified to see it. “That was never up for debate.” 

[reiderwriter]

◇ Now That I Found You, Stay ◇

Chapter 11 of That's What You Get

Summary: A long, overdue conversation is finally had.

Warnings: smut, minors dni 18+, fingering, vaginal penetration, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, degradation, dirty talk, pet names, creampie, breeding kink, marking etc. Spoilers for Season 7 of Criminal Minds, episodes "Hit" and "Run."

A/N: And next week is the end of our journey! If anyone is interested, I can answer any questions you have about this series and its ending/ what I'm planning for after this, etc. in my inbox this weekend! I'm really thankful for everyone's support so far! 11 down, 1 to go!

As always, you can find my masterlist here, and my requests are currently open!! <3

You weren't expecting him to be so very prompt, but after hearing the panic in his voice on the phone call, you really shouldn't have expected any less. 

Taking in his appearance, you were almost sorry that you'd caused such an upset. His eyes were darker than usual, a look of no sleep crossing his features, but he still stood hypervigilant in the doorway. Almost as if he were scanning you for injuries or harm, he drank you in. 

"You're wearing it?" The words fell from his mouth before either of you could say hello. The second his eyes locked onto the ring on your hand, it was suddenly the only thing he could think of. 

You could see him biting back further questions as he waited for you to invite him in. 

"I'm wearing it. That's okay, isn't it?" You asked, glancing up into his panicked face as he tried to make sense of the situation. 

"Yeah, it's… it's okay, yeah. Why… why are you wearing it?" He asked hesitantly, blinking a lot as he waited for your answer. You pulled the door further open and waved him in with your arm. He stepped into the immediate space but didn't move in further, as if he were scared to go in too far for fear he'd be led straight back out again. 

"Listen, Y/N, I know I should've told you, and I'm so sorry, and-"

"I know." 

"No, you don't. You didn't remember anything when we woke up, and I was so scared that I'd forced you into it, that you were going to regret everything, and-"

"Spencer," you grabbed his attention, flattening your hand on his chest as you forced him to focus on your words. "I know." His rambling ceased as he tried to sus out your meaning, obviously coming up blank of the furrow in his brow was anything to go by. 

"Penelope was here. Thank you for that, by the way. Penelope was here, and she showed me this video she took." Your hand lazily stroked over his chest, settling into place over his heart, where you could feel the organ desperately thumping, trying to make its way to you. 

"I heard that being presented with photographic evidence of an event can spark memories of it. I guess that worked for me." You sighed and took a step towards him. 

"I know how much you love me because you told me." 

Since watching Spencer's Chapel confession, glimpses of the night had been falling into place, puzzling out the entire story. 

You remembered being in the casino with him. He'd taught you some special tricks for the card games, and you'd laughed in delight as you'd raked in the cash. You hadn't done as well as him, but you knew you never would. 

You remembered how you'd left hand in hand, him pulling you out of the casino, away from an angry security guard, who obviously had questions about his sudden luck. He'd pulled you into am alleyway, and you'd stood there, laughing, chests heaving as you grew closer, finally wrapping around each other in joy, your lips meeting as if it were something they always were meant to do. 

He had flushed beautifully as he'd pulled away, so concerned that he was taking advantage of you. He whispered his love to you into the small space between your skin, under the influence of alcohol or cupid or something that made him brave for that second.

You remembered the way he'd tried to take the words back, and you remembered just as vividly how you'd refused to let him, smile growing to the point where your cheeks had felt tired. 

He'd kept talking, though, and you remembered every word he said to you. 

"You know I have this recurring dream," he had started. "I used to have bad nightmares, but now it's a dream. I wake up in bed, and you're there. We eat together, we get ready together. We go to work together. We are together. Is it weird I have dreams about being married to you?" His eyes had flashed with panic for a second before you'd pulled him down for a kiss. 

"Okay." Your voice barely a whisper, your nose pressed against his.

"Okay, what?"

"Okay, I'll marry you. It seems like a lovely dream." And you had, and it was. 

You focused on him in the present again, looking up into his eyes as you connected your other hand with his. 

"Spencer, it was a lovely dream." His eyes soften as he breathes a sigh of relief. 

You pull back for a second, leading him out of the doorway, before turning on him. Plucking the ring from your finger, you drop it into his palm, closing his hand around it. 

"Oh. I understand, I… I get it, if you don't want this-" 

"Spencer, what I want is a question." You sink to the floor, pulling him down with you until both of you are on your knees. 

"Now that we're both sober, I want the question. I distinctly remember you not exactly asking last time." It took him a few seconds to understand, and you squirmed as you waited for him to finally give you what you needed.

"Oh." You laughed at his dumb-struck expression, still acting obviously for him to ask you to marry him. 

"Oh, right, okay. I'm sorry, I thought I'd be better at this." He fumbled the ring in his hand for a second before offering it out to you, clutched awkwardly in both of his hands. 

"Y/N, will you marry me?" The anticipation bubbling up in you spilt over as you threw your arms around him, tackling him to the floor as you shouted yes as many times as your breathless lungs would allow you. 

The ring is forgotten underneath the two of you somewhere as his lips attach themselves to yours, stealing even more of your oxygen while giving you life. His hands pulled you in by your waist until you were a mess of limbs on the floor, wrapped around one another. 

He pushed your hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear when you finally broke apart, drinking in as much air as you could. 

"Great, because I don't think I could go back to the nightmares." 

"And I don't think the title divorcée suits me very well, Spencer. This is mutually beneficial." He laughs as his lips draw yours in again, using his body weight to flip your positions, quickly but carefully lowering you to the ground, kissing every inch of your face as you curiously roll your hips up into his. 

When you try to come up for air again  he doesn't let you, pushing your shoulders down as he sucks love bites into your collarbone. 

"Spencer, how…How should we tell everyone? It's going to be a shock, right?" You tried to keep your voice steady  but even you couldn't control the reactions you were having to this man's touch.

"I have some ideas," You feel him smile into your skin as his head slopes lower and lower. The top of your dress was low enough that his head could graze the tops of your breasts without having to disturb much, and you weren't sure if you wanted an answer to your question or his undivided attention more. 

"Care to enlighten me?" You asked as he planted a final kiss to your chest before pulling up and off you slightly. 

Picking up your hand, he delicately brought the inside of your wrist to his mouth, kissing it tenderly. 

"You could walk into work with this on your hand," he said, pushing the ring back onto your finger. The cool metal and his warm touch sent shivers down your spine as you dedicatedly watched him make his way across your body. 

Back at your neck, he spoke again, softly. "I could mark you up, nice and good, until everyone knows what an obedient little wife you are." His tongue flicks over a particularly sensitive spot, and you moan as you squeal into the touch. He spends some time there, making companions for his earlier love bites. 

Letting his hands trace lower, he finally ghosts a finger across your clothed pussy. With just a few mere touches, you're putty in his hand, whimpering his name helplessly, your arms wrapped about his neck. 

"We could do it that way, too. Those motel room walls are always pretty thin. I'm sure one scream of my name and the entire team would know." Your hips buck up violently into his own  and you're surprised at your sudden lack of self-control. 

You moaned for him, waiting for him to give up his teasing and give you what you really wanted. 

His hands remained ghostly, though, and you almost cursed in frustration. Pulling your dress up, he was swift and agile, hands falling to your bare hips once he'd made sure you were displayed to him. You moaned as you tried to buck your hips up into his hands again, but he caught you before you could. 

Instead of meeting you where you wanted, be pushed your dress even higher, head moving lower to begin pressing kisses over your stomach and lower. 

"Or I could knock you up  and we can for you to introduce the baby with my last name. Really let everyone know just what a horn little slut you are for me." you contemplate grabbing a fistful of his fair, but his lips are back on yours in a flash, and you gasp as you feel him finally push your panties to the side and let his fingers dive inside of you. 

"Or I could give you a real wedding. Claim you right there in front of everyone. 

"I could take thee, to be my wedded wife," his hands slipped deeper into you still as you moaned underneath him. 

"To have and to hold," his other hand dropped to rub your clit as he kept his eyes locked with your own, mouth wide with arousal, trying desperately to prologue this pleasure and not come undone so instantly on his hands. 

"From this day forward, for better or worse," your mind goes blank, filling with his voice and only his voice. 

"For richer, for poorer," he pulls his fingers away for a second, and you moan in protest. 

"In sickness and in health," he sits you up in his lap, ridding you of your remaining clothing as he drinks in the view of your entire body. 

"To love and to cherish," he kisses you again, so soft and passionate that you are almost surprised when his dick slips into you from under you. 

"Till death do us part." He rises to his knees, holding you up in his arms as he begins thrusting into you, hard and fast. 

With his attention so wholly on you and your pleasure, you come undone in a matter of moments, Spencer still finding his rhythm as you stutter around him. 

"Good girl, you're doing so good for me, milking my cock like that." He doesn't slow down as you give yourself over to him, just stroking your hair as you readjust to all the touches you're receiving. You claw your hands into his back as you start getting over stimulated, trying desperately to retain hold of your sanity. 

He's pounding into you too desperately to sustain your position, quickly pressing your back into the floor once again, spreading you once more, and continuing his ministrations. 

Your legs wrap tightly around his waist, desperately holding on for fear that letting go would mean losing him again. You feel your nails break the skin of his back as you scratch, claw, grip.

"How about we do all of that?" He grunts in your ear. "I'll give you whatever wedding you want  I'll give you the world. If you let me breed you like a nice little whore." You moan his name in response, your entire body growing rigid again as his words build another climax inside your stomach. 

"Let me mark you and show off who you belong to." You remember the feeling of his cum shooting into you, and suddenly you find it is everything you've ever wanted.

"Fuck, Spencer I'll do anything, please just don't stop." 

His mouth finds yours again as his hand finds its way to your clit again, and suddenly your hips are jerking up and down his cock as you cum. 

He isn't far behind you, not bothering to pause his movements at all as he spills his seed inside of you, pushing it in and letting it leak out of you, your collective fluids pooling under your ass as he gently calms his movements.

Holding himself like that on top of you, your breaths sync, and even as you're both gasping for air, looking into each others eyes is enough to spark more laughter. You're all tenderness and love, and and filled with him. 

He doesn't bother to pull out, simply making sure your legs are tight around his waist and your arms are tight around his neck as he hauls himself to his feet, warming his cock inside you as he hauls you to the bedroom. 

Finally pulling away, he lays you gently on the bed, taking notice of where the carpet has bitten into your back. He slips his cock out of you and retreats to the bathroom, no doubt seeking out cleaning materials. 

When he rejoins you on the bed, he rubs your cunt lazily until you're cleaned up, but you grab his hand and urge him to keep going, before pulling him back over you. 

The remainder of the night is restless as you make vows back and forth with every clash of your bodies, mouths hot with the need to prove your love for one another. 

You finally get to wake up in his arms the next morning. He hasn't left, and you certainly didn't kick him out. You watch him peacefully for as long as you can before he stirs, and the two of you have to ready yourself for a day's work.

"We should tell everyone as soon as possible, right?" You say as you both climb out of the shower. Sharing it saves time, he'd said, but it hadn't been quite as efficient as he'd made it out to be. 

Towelling off his hair, he replied. "Honestly, most of them already know." 

"Wait… the witnesses!" You gasp as you remember what it is that you still didn't quite remember. "I know Penelope is one of them. Who was the other?" You demanded, whirling around on him as you brushed your teeth. 

If you take everyone you'd talked to so far at face value, that left only three options. 

"We're going to work soon, right? Maybe you could figure it out. Profile your second witness, perhaps." You scowled at him and threw a towel half heartedly, resisting the urge to stomp childishly when his phone begins to ring. 

"Hotch," he answers, growing serious once more. "Yeah, we're awake, I…. Where? Okay, be there soon." He hangs up quickly and turns back to you. 

"Will's partner was just killed as they responded to a call about a bank robbery. They want us to consult apparently, it's still in prog-" His hurried words are cut off by the even more hurried shrill of your phone. 

"Hotch, yeah, I know, I'm… I'm with Spencer." 

Hotch's voice is silent on the other end of the line for a second before his familiar stern tone sounds into your ear. 

"We'll talk about that after we get everything settled for now, just get yourselves into the office." 

You, too, hang up, and, with your husband, you make your way to the crime scene. 

--X--

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[vivwritesfics]

No Need To Ask

Chapter Twenty-Four - Taken

The Norris' were a notorious crime family in the UK. One of many. With Norris, the head of the family, running operations with his son, Lando, they work to keep Y/N Norris, Norris' daughter protected. Life in a crime family wasn't something they wanted for her.

But with tension with one of the Spanish crime families rise, Norris and his now deceased wife come up with only one plan, offer their daughter to the Sainz's or risk an all out war.

1.7K words

Series Masterlist

Lando Norris did exactly what he said he was going to do. Now that there were no threats held over them, he flew to the Netherlands. Only two of his men were with him as he used his private jet to pick up his sister.

His knee bounced as the jet landed in the Verstappen hangar. Lando had called ahead, told Verstappen what was going on. Verstappen was more than happy to oblige. (Verstappen was a very cold and calculating man. He didn't much care that Y/N was in his house and left Max to deal with her. She was more a bother than anything else to him and he was more than happy to get rid of her).

Max wasn't happy with Y/N leaving the Verstappen stronghold. In her he'd developed a friendship, and she had been something of a perfect (platonic) companion. Happy to spend time with him while he did his thing and she did her own thing.

They watched movies together, just happy to spend time around each other. It made the time that Carlos was away pass quickly and distracted her from missing him terribly.

But she did still miss him terribly.

Max stood beside Y/N, several of his fathers men surrounding them as Lando's jet touched down in front of them. "I'm gonna try and get into contact with Carlos, tell him where you've gone," He called over the sound of Lando's jet.

"Just don't make him worried!" Y/N called, Lando walking off of the jet. "I don't want him panicking while he's busy!"

Max nodded his head as Lando strode over, round sunglasses covering his eyes. "Let's go," he said the moment he reached his sister, grasping a hold of her arm. Behind his sunglasses his eyes glanced down, looking towards the bump that wasn't there yet.

But she didn't let him pull her away. Y/N stepped away from her brother and launched herself at Max, wrapping her arms around him. "Thank you," she whispered and kissed his cheek.

Lando gave Max a nod and grabbed a hold of his sister once again. He gently pulled her away, pulling her back towards the jet. This time she went with him, walking up the steps and climbing into the jet.

Before she knew it, they were in the air, leaving the Netherlands and getting further away from the country she now called home.

***

For twelve weeks Carlos was stuck in Spain, missing his pretty little wife. He had no pictures of her, nothing to remind him of her. In those twelve weeks, Carlos had never felt so lonely.

Was this how she felt during the start of their marriage? Regret filled him when he thought about it.

He wanted her home. Now.

But he couldn't. Carlos couldn't have her home until he knew the house was completely safe.

The first thing finished was the door, the one that needed a retina scan to get in. It was incredibly expensive, but Carlos would spend all of the money in the world to keep Y/N safe.

New cameras, new gates and new alarm systems had been installed. Carlos got rid of his at home golf course, filling in the holes and flattening out the banks.

Instead of the golf course, he had a play area installed. A little slide, a sand box, swings, and more. Carlos was also having a small slide installed in the pool. He was going to give their little one everything.

As the walls were built around the house, Carlos emptied out his room opposite his own. Well, it wasn't his room anymore. It was theirs, his and Y/N's. Anyway, he emptied out the room opposite, which was once a guest bedroom, and painted the walls.

Pink or blue were the colours he spent way too long debating over. But he didn't go with either colour, instead painting the walls a nice, olive green.

It was just the base. What Carlos wanted more than anything for their baby's bedroom was a mural of animals. A collection of jungle animals in trees, painted on the walls, or badgers and foxes prancing around in sweaters (but Carlos was leaning more towards the jungle animals).

His laptop was full of open tabs of baby things. A crib, a mobile to hang above the bed, a wardrobe (one pink and princess themed, one cream, ready for the couple to decorate it). He'd picked out giraffe rug to go with the potential jungle mural, and a collection of books, some in English and some in Spanish.

Carlos hated that he was doing it without Y/N, but it made him miss her just a little bit less, getting the room ready for baby Valentina or baby Oscar.

He ordered the crib, but everything else he'd do with Y/N. As Carlos sat on the floor of the baby's room, he smiled to himself. He couldn't wait to have the two of them home.

***

Oscar stepped out of the car, looking at the familiar house. It was fortified now, with high walls and two gates before you got to the main house. But it wasn't quite finished yet, the Spanish mansion looking like a construction site.

On Carlos's command, Oscar had been allowed through. Carlos opened the door, allowing him in, and Oscar ran up to the office.

But Carlos wasn't in the office. He was opposite and over one, in the room that was for the baby.

Oscar gently knocked on the door before allowing himself in. The door had been painted cream, a different colour to the rest of the doors in the house, with a space left for a name.

"Hey," said Oscar as he looked down at Carlos, constructing the crib. "Where did you send her?"

Carlos placed the piece of crib he was constructing to one side and let out a sigh. "I sent her to the Verstappens," he said and leaned back on his palms. "I sent her somewhere she would be safe, and Norris decided he wanted to bring her back to England."

Oscar glared at the floor. "Well, at least she's with family now," he said, trying to justify it as he leaned against the wall.

"Just one more week and I will bring her home," Carlos said and looked up at Oscar.

Oscar pulled off his suit jacket and got to work. He helped Carlos set up the crib and hung the mobile above it. The two of them worked together to put together the book case. "I was going to wait for Y/N to do all of this," said Carlos as they screwed the bookshelf into the wall, preventing it from ever toppling over.

"Sorry," Oscar said somewhat sheepishly as he pulled his suit jacket back over his shoulders. "But this was fun. Have you guys thought of names?"

Carlos only smirked.

***

The Norris house wasn't well fortified. It wasn't fortified at all. But Lando didn't have anybody he loved and wanted to protect, so he didn't do anything to make the house more secure.

There were a few extra cameras and a few alarms on the doors. But that was it.

And then Lando brought Y/N home. He brought his sister back to her house, a place she hadn't been to since their fathers funeral. So much had changed since then. She was carrying a child now, actually in love with the man she had been forced to marry.

Even though the Norris house wasn't well fortified, Y/N couldn't stop herself from feeling safe. This was her childhood home, where she had grown up.

Once again, just as they had at the start of this story, Y/N and Lando sat in the library, playing a game of chess. She was winning, as she always did.

Normality was nice. But, as nice as it was, Y/N missed her husband.

"Your chess game has gone down hill," said Lando as she took his queen. Yes she was winning, but it had taken a lot longer than Lando expected.

Y/N looked at her brother through her lashes. She hadn't played chess for the entire time that they had been in the safehouse. She knew she'd lost her touch, but she was still winning. Her time in this house was going to be spent playing chess.

Lando tried to spend as much time with her as he could. Who knew when Carlos was going to come and get her, to take his sister away from him again?

Y/N had been in the Norris house for four weeks before she started showing. Just a small bump, she didn't need to start wearing stretchy clothing just yet.

"Have you thought of names?" Asked Lando as they ate breakfast together after four weeks of living together again.

Y/N swallowed her breakfast. "Briefly, yeah. We talked about it just before he flew back to Spain," she said, leaning her head against her hand.

"If it's a boy would you name it after dad?"

Y/N looked at her brother. She hadn't even considered naming the child after her father. Guilt settled in her stomach as she realised she considered Oscar as the namesake before she thought about her father. But no, she wanted to name the baby after Oscar and that she was going to do (if it was a boy).

Time worked in a funny way. She had spent ten weeks back in her childhood home, twelve weeks in total away from her husband. Y/N didn't know it, but this was the day he was coming back to her, returning her to the home he had now made safe for them.

But she'd never find that out.

Like I said, the Norris house wasn't well fortified. Lando had only been targeted once and that was it, he didn't think he needed to fortify it more. Maybe it was his age, or his lack of experience as a head of family.

They broke into the house in the early hours of the morning. Those that had been on watch were tired after hours protecting the house.

It was easy for them to climb in through Y/N's bedroom window, knock her out before she knew what had happened, and take her away.

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[sebastianswallows]

The Little Death — 4. The best of all possible worlds

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: smut, wet and messy oral sex (m receiving and regretting it), femdom, sub!Feyd, a bit of cock and ball torture, begging, cumplay, choking, somewhat noncon, BGSM (Bene Gesserit Sado Masochism)

— WORDCOUNT: 2.7k

— TAGLIST: @elf-punk @lowlyloved @pomtherine​ @localravenclaw

Humans are born with a susceptibility to that most persistent and debilitating disease of intellect: self-deception. The best of all possible worlds and the worst get their dramatic colouration from it.

— Bene Gesserit Coda

Feyd was breathless. Kneeling before him, as wild and soft as the dust clouds of Arrakis, was a girl with his blood on her lips. She worked his armour off as swiftly as if she herself had worn it and left him naked on the bed while she tugged his boots and trousers off. Her gaze lingered for a moment on his cock, her attention and the cold air of the room kissing its surface. It twitched, yearning for something, straining up toward her with shyness. Her lips curled deliciously before she looked into his eyes again. Feyd swallowed the knot in his throat and moaned.

Her palm travelled up his arm with, deceitfully gentle, caressing the pain that still travelled through it, while her tongue lapped at the wound on his hand. Her eyes, shadowed by dark lashes, looked up into his own, and his heart stuttered. At that moment, he could ask for nothing more from his witch.

He raised a hand to cup her cheek and for a moment felt the way the muscles in her jaw worked as she licked him — an intoxicating feeling — but then she grabbed his wrist and pushed it away from her. It surprised him, angered him, and delighted him… Unlike the other Bene Gesserit he’d met, she did not use her voice to control him, she just used her body. A warrior in her own right.

“Is this your Gom Jabbar,” he giggled between hisses of pain. “Is this your box? That pretty mouth?”

She smiled around his flesh and lifted herself on her knees, slinking up toward him.

“Would you like it to be?”

Feyd looked into her eyes and saw in them everything he wanted to see. All of her attention was on him. Her every breath was breathed for him. He’d never felt more alive than in that moment.

“Yes.”

She smiled and lowered her lips to his chest. Between his legs, he could feel her hands go to her belt, uncoiling it, then heard the soft thud as her dress pooled at her feet. He started breathing faster, excited at the prospect of seeing all of her, but she just pushed him lower, lower on the bed, and crawled above him. Her lips caressed his skin, her tongue teased it, and when she moved her attention to the divot at the centre of his chest he felt her suckle on the drops of sweat there.

“Dirty witch,” he purred.

“Dirty master.”

Feyd let his head lean back and chuckled. She flattened her tongue on his skin, dragging it up to his neck, and lapped against the beating of his pulse.

“Water is precious on Arrakis,” she whispered. “It is life itself.”

He shivered, hands fisting in the sheets with pleasant memories. Each time he took a life in the arena, he took somebody’s soul, consumed it just as surely as his darlings fed on flesh. And here she was, asking to do the same.

“Will you let me take it?” she purred. “Will you let me take your life, your water?”

He grinned a black-mouthed smile as he looked down at her, and found her gaze there, waiting.

“If you can manage,” he said with a cocked brow.

She smiled at him then, an unusual sight — hardly anyone smiled at a Harkonnen — and dipped down to kiss him. Her lips were dry but sweet, and gentler than anything he’d felt before or could remember. He frowned at being treated with such caring — as if she felt something for him. And then her kiss turned to a bite and her teeth sunk in his lower lip.

“Ow,” Feyd giggled, his arms coming up to hold her.

Her hands went gently to his shoulders. From there, they travelled the smooth path of his arms until she caught his wrists and, with unusually firm pressure, she set them right above his head. He felt her body, slick as a snake, settling down on him, her hot and naked skin rubbing against his in a way that made him wince. Her hair, like a curtain, fell down around his face, and for a moment Feyd was lost in the world she made for him. He looked at the shadows that fell around them both, at her smiling face in the centre, and he could easily imagine they were the only people in the universe.

She slinked in that feline way of hers — of all Bene Gesserits perhaps — and brushed her lips against his own on her way down. He reached up for another kiss but was too slow to catch it. Her mouth settled on his clavicle and bit down hard, then she bit and kissed and licked her way down until she reached his heart. It pounded against his ribs, trying to reach toward her. She trembled, her breath tickling his chest, and with a choked little moan, she caught his nipple in her mouth.

Feyd arched his back, groaning, and tried to lift his arms, but she had locked her grip on them in such a way that he found moving impossible. Her teeth closed around his small excited bud. The open kiss of her mouth surrounded the assault, and her tongue was there to lap at the tip of it while her teeth held it still.

“Harder,” he moaned — and she obeyed him. “Ah! Hahaha!” His cheeks hurt from how widely he was smiling. He couldn’t have even answered why. “Harder, witch. My darlings can do better than that.”

She released his arms but he didn’t even have a chance to move them before she slapped his face again. Feyd gasped, his head whipped to the left as pain sang up and down his cheek. She had hit him so hard that his teeth dug into his lip.

“You don’t talk of other women when you are with me,” she said, staring down at him as she straddled his waist. Her hair fell around her figure, veiling not much at all. Above his hardening cock, he could sense the barest hint of her, warm and dripping. “Do you understand?”

“No. Best teach me again,” he grinned. “Ah!”

She slapped him on the other side and let her weight down on him. Feyd didn’t even have a chance to get angry with her because now those soft feminine parts were caressing his cock while his whole face ached. He felt himself getting harder, manhood poking at the soft cleft of her ass. But she straddled him as if he were an object, a pillow she used for her pleasure.

“You’re insufferable,” she hissed, gripping his neck and leaning in. With a rolling of her hips that made him groan, she whispered, “A violent little whore, with a sensitive little cock.”

“Who are you calling little, woman?” he growled.

She chuckled. “We’ll see about that.”

Her nails scraped down his skin, leaving painful little welts behind, as she slinked down to her knees. Before Feyd could raise himself on his elbows, she dug her nails into his thigh and, with cloying slowness, her other hand curled around his cock.

Feyd looked down at her between his parted legs, excited to see her face so close to it, her mouth teasingly opened. She licked her lips and looked up into his eyes as her grip tightened, and for a moment she seemed afraid.

Her cheek rested on his other thigh, close to where it met his hip, and she moved her fist higher up his shaft.

“Softer,” Feyd rasped. “Don’t hold it so tight, you —”

“You need a firm grip,” she purred, “my lord na-Baron.”

With lidded eyes, she took in his expanse of body. His strong and hairless thighs, the sweat that gathered at the crux of them, the hint of his round cheeks beneath, and in her grip, her prize.

“You’re blushing,” she chuckled with an innocent smile. “You are so pale, but the tip is turning rosy. So beautiful. So cute...”

He wanted to growl. Nobody referred to him that way, even if it was true, but he couldn’t bring himself to care with her hands all over him. Hot breath tickled at his skin, making him all the more aware of where her attention was focused. She licked her lips as her hand roughly tugged upward. When she reached his head she pressed her thumb against his hole.

Feyd whimpered when he felt his cock weep a little drop for her, and from the way she looked, he almost expected her to kiss it. Her eyes travelled his length while her other hand uncurled its claws from him, leaving little half-moon shapes in pink and red. She brought it below, to where his heavy sac was hanging.

“You’d better not —” he started, but cut himself off with a trembling gasp when she brushed her tongue across his tip.

She looked into his eyes as he held himself up shakily, his arms braced on the bed behind him, but then her lids fell down in something almost serene as she let her lips cover his crown. Her fist held him firmly, too firmly, so hard that the blood couldn’t flow, but he could still feel her. Her mouth was warm and wetter than anything else on that planet, and the curtain of her hair covered almost all of her. Strands stuck to his sweaty thighs. Beneath, her fingers brushed against his sac in a light petting, feeling just the surface of his softest skin. It made his legs tremble. Feyd tried to raise his hips, to push himself into her, but she braced her arms above his thighs and held him down. He groaned, upset, incensed, and petulant.

Her grip went lower, all the way down to his root, pulling his pale skin out of the way. Her lips followed, taking more of him into her mouth. Her soft tongue lapped at the exposed and tender tip, and then she kissed it. One caress of her lips bled into the other as if she couldn’t get enough, and then she started nursing herself on it, suckling the wetness from his cock in a way that felt both careless and needy.

“Is that the water you want?” he rasped with a breathless chuckle. “Hm? That’s what you need?”

She only sucked harder, and her fingers cupped his balls. Feyd dragged in a sharp breath through his teeth as he started feeling himself throbbing. He whined, trying to thrust his hips upward. Whenever he tried, she pressed down against his hips and swallowed more of him, squeezing his length, pressing it against the roof of her mouth in a way that made him surrender. Suddenly, he felt the barest hint of teeth and panicked, but then her fingers caressed his churning sac in such a way that made him want to cry.

It was a remarkable contrast, one worthy of the sunset skies of Giedi Prime. Her mouth suckled harshly on his cock, teeth scraping against his skin while her lips kissed around it and her fist held him tight. Below, her fingers played with his heavily hanging balls, caressing them as if she held in her hand an animal she wanted to tame, and all the while his legs were spread by her body, trapping him in some way, rendering him more exposed than he had felt since… since…

“S-stop,” he muttered.

She didn’t. Her lips pulled away, exposing more of her teeth to the delicate skin of his cock, and with each drag upwards it scraped against him. Feyd cried out in a weak wavering voice that didn’t sound like him at all and his head fell back against his shoulders. He was throbbing so hard his cock was kicking in her mouth, but she moved as if she didn’t notice it. As if she didn’t care. She sucked the taste off him and squeezed the head so roughly he thought she just might rip it off.

“Oh fuck!” Feyd moaned, all the Harkonnen coarseness gone out of his voice to be replaced by a sound of smooth and deeply boyish silk. “Fuck, stop, stop, please…”

She swallowed more of him, drool dripping all around him, and between his legs, her claws started to close dangerously around his balls. The air was filled with sticky sounds and moaning, and the harsh breaths Feyd struggled with.

“I can’t,” he gasped. “I can’t keep going if you —”

With a purr at his sweet pleading, she sunk a little lower until her lips encircled halfway down his cock, and there she held him, still and quiet in her mouth. She scraped her nails against his tender sac, holding the swollen globes in her palm and, with a peaceful sigh, she pulled away from his stomach, holding his member firmly in her mouth as she rested her cheek against his thigh. She looked into his eyes with something of a challenge while she tugged on him with long, hard suckles. Feyd couldn’t help but look back at her lovely face and shudder.

His legs spread wider to accommodate her and across his chest, he felt her fingers trailing up toward his neck until she grasped it. Feyd bit his lip and moaned as she started squeezing harder — around his manhood, around his sac, around his neck to cut his breath off — and he couldn’t hold it anymore.

“That feels… Oh! Y-you’re going to m-make me cum,” he whimpered, his voice sounding low and sad.

His hips thrust upward, his whole body yearning for her, wanting nothing more than to be in her, but she stayed steadily on him as if they were one. Her face rested peacefully against his thigh, lips nursing on his leaking, throbbing cock, and with one more encouraging brush of her nails against his tensing balls she got him to spill into her mouth.

“Aaah! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck —”

Feyd’s whole body trembled, his arms no longer worked, and through the haze of pleasure he felt her hand squeeze even tighter around his throat. He fell back on the bed, head thrashing back and forth, while his balls pushed his seed up the pulsing column of his manhood and straight into her mouth. With a moan at every jet of cum, she pulled it out of him until he was too sensitive and raw and licks of flame replaced the pleasure.

“Stop,” he moaned, “please stop…”

She let go of his throat at first, then she released his sac but kept her fingers there to brush against it, tickling its underside in a way that made his hips jump. Finally, she dragged her mouth off of his cock, all in one long parting suck that ended with a kiss.

With heavy breaths that filled the air around them, Feyd looked down at her — a living storm, a mess. Her cheeks were blushing, her lashes matted with tears, her hair was a damp mess that stuck to her, and her lips… her lips were stained just slightly black. With an imperious stare that suited her, and a little smile, she raised herself on steady arms until she hovered at his stomach, and shamelessly she let his cum spill from her mouth.

“W-what are you —”

She hadn’t swallowed a drop of it. His seed pooled across his stomach, warm from being held so long inside his balls and then inside her mouth, but quickly chilling, stinging where it hit the open scratches. He looked up at her with a hint of anger first, then sadness. Was he not good enough for her?

Silkily, she brushed her hand through the mess she’d just made, painting his own stomach with his cum, and had the nerve to look quite pleased with the result.

“I t-thought… I thought you wanted my w-water,” he stuttered, cocking a brow weakly at her.

She smiled, resting her soft tired head against her shoulder, and played in the mess of cum and sweat upon his tensing stomach.

“I think it looks better on you,” she said, “my lord na-Baron.”

[norrisleclercf1]

Who Runs the World? You Do

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x Mafia!Reader

Rating: R

Words: 2.0K

Warnings: Oral (f reciving) blood, violence, etc. Angst, fluff, Reader is the dom in this relationship and spoils Pierre

Requested: Yes/No

Request: What about kingpin mafia!reader x sugarbaby!Pierre? She’s just running an entire crime syndicate while spoiling her trophy husband Pierre. I think it be fun if he was still a f1 driver and all his fans think that she’s just a very introverted mysterious stay at home wife because they don’t know she’s actually a criminal. His fans think that Pierre is paying for all their expensive clothes houses cars etc because they think she’s unemployed but really she’s this terrifying international criminal that loves buying her husband pretty things. I’m to excited about this to come up with any proper plot points right now so I’ll leave you with this concept in case you have any cool ideas for it

Synopsis: Married to an F1 Driver isn't easy, but neither is running the largest crime organization.

French terms to know: Yeux bleus (blue eyes), Péché (Sin)

A/N: Merry Christmas Eve/Merry Christmas/ Happy Holidays/ and Yule to those who celebrate! This is a yule gift to @chrysanthemonza now they can't bother me for it anymore! Love you bby!!!!!

Water cascades down your back, working to release the muscle tension. Groaning, you let the water burn your skin, trying to wash away the day's activities. Since you needed to be with your husband. 

It was easy to sneak past him as he laid out in bed, the cold French air licking your skin. He's gorgeous when he's asleep. The way his cross necklace sits on his chest, hating how you love the chest hairs curling around it. Dirty blonde hair, the color of wet sand, plastered to his forehead. His skin, kissed by the sun, is rippled with muscle due to his job. 

You knew he was asleep naked, the way the cover was showing off the happy trail and not stopping, his bare hip displayed. Everything in you screamed to just forget the shower and join him in bed. But, he wouldn't appreciate you ruining the expensive and handpicked Egyptian cotton sheets. Everything in your villa was handpicked and designed by him. He took pride in the home the two of you had built, hating when you dragged work through it. 

So, the shower had won to save from your husband's gripping and pouting. A pressure at your back has you whipping around, placing an antique shaving razor on the person's carotid. "Move, and you're fucking dead." You hiss. "Péché." A groggy French accent has you moving the weapon quickly. "Oh, oh my Yeux bleus. I'm so sorry." Terror and regret clenching your chest. 

You'd just raised a weapon to the person you swore never to hurt, and his eyes softened. "Hey....it's okay. You didn't hurt me." Placing a delicate kiss on your forehead. "I heard the water running and figured it was you." Your husband whispers, reaching behind you and turning the water off. "Where'd you fly off to this time?" Pressing the shower door open, he grabs your towel, taking his time to dry you off. Placing whispers of kisses on your skin here and there. 

"Shanghai. Had work and to acquire something for my Yeux bleus." You smile when he kisses the inside of your thigh, nipping at it. "You need to stop buying me stuff." Lashes fluttering, his nose bumping you. Fuck, his lips were so close to his goal that it was hard to concentrate on your words. 

"So? I wanna spoil my baby. Pierre, you've earned it." Smirking as you watch his eyes dart back and forth from your pussy to your eyes. "I have?" You are no longer talking about the gift you've bought him. "Of course, you've been so good for me. Besides, I figured you could use a nice treat to help you throughout the race." Pierre chuckles, his tongue sticking out, flattens it. 

Legs twitch when his tongue splits your lips apart, hand digging into those strands of hair. Moving his tongue from front to back, you whine, his teeth grazing your clit. Pulling away, lips already glistening from your juices, his tongue cleans them off, smirking. 

"Come here." You gasp when Pierre scoops you up like nothing, pulling the towel off and heading to the bedroom. "What are you doing?" Laying you on your back, his eyes clear as day. How blue they were, you could drown in them. "If I'm going to eat my wife out, I will do it properly." 

Sliding down, lips leaving burns on your skin from how feverish you burned. "And that means," He lifts both your legs, hooking them over his shoulders. "I'm going to have you shaking and leave you swollen and achy." Biting your lip, you hate the way he can take control from you.

"Okay." Pierre smiles, his head dips down, and a moan is torn from your throat, back arching. The sounds of his lips and tongue devouring you, your gasps and cries fill the still night. Pierre's hands hold your hips, feeling how you twist and arch, trying to escape. "Pierre....oh, right there." His teeth bite your clit gently, not enough to hurt but to send a wave of pleasure through you.  

Pierre chuckles as he works his tongue carefully and is drawn out. Arching your back up, you whimper, pulling at his hair. "Fuck, mmm." You whimper as you feel that bundle of nerves crawl up your stomach and to your throat. "Come for me, my gorgeous girl." With one last nip, your muscles tighten as you come undone by his mouth, feeling your heart shudder to a stop. 

Pierre slows down his tongue, pulling you down from your high slowly but delicately, almost like he'd hurt you if he went any faster. "Fuck, I think you deserve a treat." You tease; Pierre chuckles and moves up, devouring your mouth in a passionate kiss that has your toes curling. "A treat, you say," He whispers, pecking your lips as he lies down next to you, arms pulling you into his chest. 

"Yes? I want to spoil you some more. How about you pick out a gorgeous mountain house during Christmas break? I'll buy it. Say, an anniversary gift?" Pierre mulls it over and blushes at the thought. "I'd like that." Lips curling up, you move so his head can rest on your chest. "Perfect, start looking so I can buy it and have the cash on hand." 

-----------------------------------------

"She's scary," Yuki whispers as he watches you fix your deep wine-red lipstick. It was rare for you to be at a GP, and when you were, the others barely saw you. But Pierre had begged you, and with 2 orgasms later, here you were, sitting under the Italian sun. 

"She's not scary, Yuki," Charles grumbles, but he doesn't even know his best friend's wife well. It was odd not knowing who Pierre was married to. Not knowing where they lived, Charles knew Pierre lavished you with rare gifts. "She is. I said hello, and she looked me up and down like she wanted to step or eat me." He whispered and hid behind Charles's back when your sunglass-covered eyes landed on them. 

"Charles," Your accent drawls out his name, and the Ferrari driver stiffens as those lips curl into a cat-like smirk. "Mrs. Gasly." He curses himself for not remembering your name, but you seem content with his reply. "Good luck today," Is all you say as you stand, towering over him almost in your heels as you walk off. Not before two men stroll past and join you at your hip. 

"Yeux bleus?" You call out sweetly, looking for your husband. You find him with some reporters and stop short. Cursing, you throw on your sunglasses, hoping they don't catch any pictures of you. The last thing you needed was for the Italian Mafia to see you here. Stepping back, you notice that Pierre smiles at you gently and moves to cover your form. 

"We just heard you purchased a new house in the Swiss Alps. Gift for that wife of yours?" You tense at the question, hearing the venom and condescension in the reporter's voice. You wanted to rip his throat out for speaking to him like that. Pierre just smiles brightly and nods. "Yeah, it's an anniversary gift. We're delighted and can't wait to spend our holiday there." Pierre smiles brightly, and it hurts your heart. 

You sometimes wished he had married someone else. Someone could stand in the sun next to him instead of constantly hiding in the shadows. Pierre never cared. Honestly, he knew somewhat of what you did and the reason for you hiding, but beyond that, he didn't press. "Yes, but we know you're an F1 driver, but she's unemployed. How could you afford that house?" The reporter pressed on, and you could see the slight waver in Pierre's smile. 

"I work hard to spoil my wife. Do you have any questions about my racing now?" The reports raise their voices to get your husband's attention. Smiling, you drop it when you feel a presence join you. "Your Yeux bleus is quite good at handling the media. You, on the other hand. Have got some balls." The Southern Italian accent is vital in your ear and scuff at his bravery. 

"Yes, I do have balls. They're much larger than yours and sitting on my chest." You spit back, rapid-fire Italian, as you turn to face the second in command to the Mafia. "Leave me the fuck alone; I'm here for pleasure, not business. " The man grunts and presses up against you. Without thinking, you move quick and shove a knife into his crotch and cover his mouth. 

"Scream, I fucking dare you too." You seeth, hoping no one can hear you two. "Cunt," You twist the knife as he whimpers like a baby. "Tell your boss that if you ever, and I mean ever, come near me and my baby again, I'll take both your dicks." You quickly shove him off. Looking down at your outfit and hands, you curse and head for privacy. "Boss," One of your men runs up, but you shrug them off. 

"Protect Pierre. I'm sure there might be more of them around. Tell him I'm just freshening up if he's looking for me. The heat is ruining my makeup or something like that." He nods his head and rushes to join your husband's side. Walking into the private bathroom, you sigh as you wash your hands, watching the blood come off. "Can't even be here without spilling some blood." You whisper, feeling that self-hatred blooms in your chest. 

Pierre only ever asked one thing. Don't do work at his work. He could understand, but this time it was you who reacted when you could have easily just drugged the man instead of taking his jewels. "Mrs. Gasly, your husband is about to race." Sighing, you change into one of his shirts tucked into your pants and head out, sliding the thick sunglasses back on. 

Pierre is seen arguing with the bodyguard as he tries to move the guard steps in front of him. "Yeux bleus?" Pierre relaxes upon hearing those words and quickly gathers you in his arms. "I couldn't find you, thought you left." He whimpers, and you hate that you give him this anxiety. Sometimes, he does wake, and you are gone, without a trace or word, and not back for days, even weeks. 

"I'm still here, always." "Not always," It was a low jab, one probably deserved as he rested his cheek in the palm of your hand. "I know. Work keeps me busy." Pierre snorts but refuses to fight about this now. "Just promise me one thing?" He asks, you squint your eyes but nod. 

"Anything," You mean that you'd give him the fucking sun if he asked. "Leave that world, come back to the light for me?" Your face drops, and you step back, shaking your head. "No, if I leave, I can't protect you. Go race, we'll talk later." Pierre's baby blue eyes turn to a dark and stormy grey. "Yeah, right," Biting your tongue, knowing if you were in the privacy of your home, you'd have him being a whimpering begging mess for your forgiveness. 

Watching Pierre climb into the car, and soon the race starts, you stay back, watching as he works his way up the field and into a good position. 

"Boss, sorry but," You sigh, holding up your hand, knowing what he was about to say would ruin this. "Where are we going?" The guy makes a noise and shows you the phone. A text in angry Estonian. "Fuckkkkk," You loved Estonia but now you'd want nothing more than to stay. But you couldn't. 

"Alright, let's go home." Turning back, you nod to the guard that stays with Pierre. No words are needed as he'd explain everything to your husband for you. "We could always stay," Your guard whispers, and you see the silent plea for you to stay, knowing this would result in a huge fight later. "No, I have work. He understands." Walking to the car, you climb in, hearing the roar of the engines and the fading sound of the crowd. 

"He'll understand," You say to no one, leaving it in the air as a silent pray. But Pierre wouldn't understand, not this time. 

[dirtyvulture]

Darkest Knight - Part 3

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Mutant!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: You meet a pretty woman in a bar...

Word count: 5568

AN: Click here for Part 2!

Despite that you finally get to sleep in a familiar place, it’s still hard for you to fully relax. Even after the feast Ororo had prepared for you and Natasha, the hot shower, and the fact that you’ve hardly slept eight hours in the last three days combined, you lie in bed next to Natasha, restlessly twisting and turning in the blankets.

“Don’t you want to fight back?” the guard taunts, slapping the tip of his cattle prod on his massive door of a shield. 

You look down at your hands, which are wrapped in clunky metal gloves that encase your entire fist up to your mid-forearm. You can’t release your claws through them; you learned that painful lesson very early on. 

“Come on, animal!” Another guard whistles at you. You crinkle your nose in distaste when you smell the fear on the men surrounding you. Despite their attempts to exude a macho and alpha persona, they’re close to wetting themselves in fear at being locked in a room with you. 

One of the guards inches towards you, his cattle prod buzzing with blue electricity. You snarl in warning, shifting your feet that are chained to heavy shackles bolted to the floor. Even if you manage to kill every one of these guards, you’re still not going anywhere. 

“Don’t make this easy for me.” The guard’s face lights in a crazed smile. He lunges at you, cattle prod first, which you easily dodge. You reel your fist back and punch as hard as you can at his knee. The guard screams as his leg folds backwards. He collapses, crying and whimpering, as the other guards converge on you at the same time. 

The sharp pain of the prods stabbing into your back is immediately followed by the explosive burst of electricity and you fall onto the floor next to the guard, your entire body seizing and spasming. Two of the guards jump onto you, flattening you like a pancake and knocking all the air out of your lungs. 

“You’re gonna regret that.”

Your head is pressed into the ground by a boot, but you have no strength to fight all of them at the same time. A cattle prod jabs at your throat and you hardly have time to register the pain before the electricity crackles and stuns you into unconsciousness.

You bolt upright, pillows and blankets flying. Your chest is heaving and you’re soaked in sweat. The side of your neck–where the Widow had stabbed you with her taser–stings with phantom pain. 

“Y/N? Is everything okay?” 

Natasha’s voice brings you back to the present. You’re not back in captivity, you’re not being tortured by the guards, you’re in your room at the mansion with Natasha next to you in your own bed. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lie, wiping at your forehead feverishly. “Just need the bathroom.” You feel Natasha’s eyes on your back as you get up and walk over to the connecting bathroom, splashing cold water on your face and taking a few bracing breaths. Your heart is pounding still and you know you won’t be able to go back to sleep any time soon. It’s almost three in the morning, according to the clock on your nightstand. 

“Y/N?” you hear Natasha call you again, then the rustle of blankets as she tries to get up.

“Stay in bed,” you say. “I’m gonna go for a walk.”

Natasha is uncomfortable to be left behind. She knows that you’ve just had a nightmare because of the sudden way you woke up sweating and refusing to talk. She’s sad that she doesn’t know how to comfort you and wishes you weren’t so guarded about some things, but she recognizes that whatever gives you nightmares is a deeply personal and traumatic experience that you aren’t ready to share with her. 

The door opens and you slip out silently, leaving Natasha to wonder in the darkness of your room. 

You’re not sure where you’re headed, but your feet take a familiar path down the hall out to a balcony. It’s numbingly cold outside, especially in a wet short-sleeve shirt and sweatpants, but you welcome the freeze as you lean on the railing, looking out at the garden of the mansion. You rub at the patch of skin on your neck where the Widow tased you, but the memory from your nightmare dredges up a worse pain. 

The time when you were held hostage by the government, experimented on like a lab rat, brainwashed to follow orders and commit the most unspeakable crimes on humanity. The bits that you do remember make you physically ill and you wish you could dunk your brain in bleach to permanently forget them. 

With shaking hands, you take a lighter and a box of cigarettes out of your pocket, quickly setting one aflame and sucking in a deep lungful of smoke. It’s a terrible habit, even you’ll admit, but it’s a momentary distraction from the pain that you know will never go away. You flick the ashes over the railing, lulling yourself back into calm with the familiar motion.

“You know the professor doesn’t like it when you smoke on campus,” someone says from behind you and you startle. It’s Jean, dressed in a light, almost see-through nightgown.

“Um, sorry. Forgot,” you mumble, averting your eyes from her and stubbing the flame out on the railing. “Why are you up?”

“Your thoughts are very loud.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.” While mindreading was a power mortals could only dream of, you were familiar with the real annoyances and headaches it could cause. It wasn’t a power that could necessarily be “turned off,” and even though you knew Jean tried to respect your privacy, sometimes it couldn’t be helped. 

“No, it’s okay.” Jean moves to stand next to you. The wind blows her scent in your direction, and the memories it sparks immediately has you turning red with embarrassment when she turns on you. 

“Really?” she asks with a tone of amusement.

“You and Scott are still going strong I see,” you deflect. “No chance for us, I guess.”

“Y/N,” she says.

“Sorry,” you apologize again. Things between you and Jean have always been complicated. But a part of you will always see her as the one that got away. “Well, if you ever get tired of the Boy Scout, you know where to find me–”

“I couldn’t do that,” Jean says, and you sigh. “Besides, someone is much more interested in you than I am. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that.”

“Hmm?”

Jean pushes against your shoulder. “I had a feeling your super senses were just for show sometimes. You’ve always been a bit of a dummy.”

“Dummy? Ouch.” You feign being hurt. “And I don’t know about anyone else being interested in me, you know how boring I am.”

“She doesn’t think you’re boring,” Jean says.

“Who? Nat?” It takes you a second. “I hope you’re staying out of her head, Jean,” you disprove. “She’s kind of new to the whole mutant thing.”

“Her thoughts are almost as loud as yours,” Jean defends. “And always on you.”

“Me?” You wonder what kinds of thoughts Natasha’s had about you.

Jean shrugs. “That’s for you two to discuss. But I’m not getting in between that. Besides, you know you like her, too–”

“Stop it.” Although Jean spoke the truth, you truly couldn’t imagine Natasha wanting you. You were, well, you, with all of your trauma and issues. You had lived for centuries and never found anyone willing to settle with you. Natasha would be no different, you were sure. 

“Give her a chance. She really likes you, that’s all I’m going to say.”

You wonder if this is Jean just making things up to get you off her back. 

“I’m not,” she says, clearly in your head again.

“That’s not fair, Jean. Get out,” you grumble, fishing in your pocket for the cigarettes again. 

“Good night, Y/N,”  she says, turning to walk back to her room down the other end of the hall. 

“Good night, Jean.”

You light another cigarette, letting the smoke drift around your head. You don’t notice Natasha peeking out from behind the curtains. She had only caught the end of your conversation with Jean and was shocked that she had been the topic, especially with the kinds of things Jean had been saying about her. But Natasha had been secretly thrilled to hear that you might like her just as much as she did you. It seemed like this Jean person wasn’t a hindrance, but actually a help.

She watches you for a few more minutes, noticing how the smoking calms you down. Once she’s sure you’ll be okay, she goes back to your room to pretend to be asleep. 

***********************************************************************

Fortunately, Scott does not do as he threatened and wake you up at six, so you and Natasha are able to wake up naturally and you take her downstairs for breakfast. In the kitchen, she perches on a stool while you cook scramble eggs for her. Just as you sit down to join her with your own plate, a young girl bursts in and makes a beeline for you.

“Y/N! Why didn’t you tell me you were stopping by?” the girl asks in a southern accent.

“I got caught up with a few things, darling.” You get up from your stool to hug the girl, careful not to press your cheek against hers. She’s wearing long-sleeves and gloves, so you let her hold onto you for as long as she likes. “Good to see you again, kid. Nat, this is Marie–”

“Rogue,” Marie corrects, winking at you.

“Hello.” Natasha offers her hand to Marie, who doesn’t take it.

“Oh, it’s not personal,” Marie says. “Y/N can explain–”

But you’re not really in the mood to, so you swiftly change the subject. “Where’s your boyfriend?” you ask her, and she blushes.

“Bobby’s in class. I think.”

“Why aren’t you?”

“Because I wanted to come see you,” Marie giggles. Natasha wants to melt as she watches you interact with the young girl. You seem so casual and at ease it almost startles her, such a contrast to the broody and grumpy person she had been traveling with for the past three days.

“Well, I don’t want the professor coming after me saying I’m keeping you from your studies now,” you tease. “So get back to class, kid.”

“It was good seeing you, Y/N! And nice meeting you, Nat!” Marie bounds off. 

“She’s cute,” Natasha comments. 

“Yeah,” you agree. “You know, I found her the same way I did with you. Poor thing was clearly lost in a bar, so I brought her home and…” You pause as Natasha lifts her eyebrows at you. “Not like that, Nat. Come on.”

“I hope not. She seems a bit young.” Natasha is both jealous and annoyed now. She had thought her first meeting with you had been a special coincidence, fate causing your paths to cross, when clearly, you’ve had the same encounter with someone else before. 

“Marie was seventeen when I found her,” you explain. “She was running from her parents after she discovered her powers. She…She can’t touch people. At least not skin-to-skin, or she’ll absorb the life right out of them. Or for people like me, our powers.” Your face darkens like you’re reminded of an unpleasant memory. Natasha reaches over the counter to touch your hand but you pull away before she can. “She’s a good kid and she’s doing a lot better now. I’m proud of her.”

Natasha can hear the sincerity in your voice. You talk about Marie like she’s your own child and she briefly wonders if you have any.

“When was the last time you were here?” she asks.

“It feels like forever, but it was probably only a year ago,” you answer. 

“Everyone seems to act like it was much longer,” she teases.

“I know. I didn’t realize they’d miss me that much.” In fact, it was hard for you to think you were missed by anyone. You’d been alone almost your entire life, moving from place to place, person to person. Permanence was not in your vocabulary and you did as you pleased with little regard for consequences. Even your friends here couldn’t convince you to stay for long, although you came back more often than you ever thought you would. Oftentimes, you wished you had someone you could share your life with, but after being alive as long as you had been, you convinced yourself this was only wishful thinking. 

After breakfast, you load the dirty dishes into the washer together. “Come on, I’ll give you a tour now.” You offer Natasha your arm, which she takes while trying to suppress a smile. With classes ongoing, there would be little distractions to interrupt you. You walk with her out the back door of the kitchen, wrapping around the side of the mansion to the sprawling backyard, marked with a basketball court, a garden, and even a little cemetery of its own.

“So, if Rogue–Marie–can ‘absorb’ people’s powers, what can your other friends do?” Natasha asks, trying to be as subtle and respectful about the question as she can.

“Well, Ororo told you the kids call her Storm. Where do you think they got that one from?” you ask.

“Because she can make storms?” Natasha guesses. 

“If she wants. Or she could do literally anything she wanted with the weather.”

“Anything? Like, actually anything?” Natasha has trouble grasping the concept that a singular person could have the power to control the weather at will. She had heard rumors of people like Storm–of people like you–but didn’t know if they were true or simply a fantasy conjured up by the Red Room to scare them.

“Tornadoes, floods, heat waves, you name it. And Scott doesn't just wear those glasses to show that he’s a douchebag twenty-four-seven. He can emit laser beams from his eyes, so the glasses stop him from frying everything he looks at. Although I’m pretty sure he’s wanted to take them off in front of me more than once,” you add with a chuckle.

“So, what is your thing with him? And Jean? And what can she do?” Natasha peppers you all at once.

“Um…” You scratch your head nervously. “Jean has…telepathic abilities.” You answer the easiest question first.  

“Like, she can move things with her mind.”

“Yes. And…she can read your mind.”

You wince when Natasha goes bright red, redder than her hair.

“But she doesn’t do it on purpose. She’ll mind your privacy,” you add hastily. You remember how shocked and embarrassed you’d been when you first learned Jean had access to your deepest and most vulnerable thoughts–and also your lustful fantasies of her and you.

“Were you and her…a thing?” Natasha asks, holding her breath while she waits for your answer. 

“It’s complicated.” You sigh. “But yeah, at one point we were…a thing. Not anymore, obviously.”

Natasha knows it’s silly to be jealous when you and Jean are adults and supposedly past your fling, but she’s worried that you still might have feelings for her. “Do you still like her?” she asks, having no intent to beat around the bush. 

“She chose Scott over me,” you say, although this isn’t quite the answer Natasha is looking for. “So I need to get over her and get a life of my own. I’m sure someone will come along…”

“Maybe someone has come along.” Natasha looks at you, nervousness and adoration in her eyes.

“You hardly know me,” you reject.

“But I want to know you. Please. Whatever you’ll tell.”

You appreciate her earnestness. “Let’s sit down then. It’s a long story.” Natasha warms at the thought of you finally opening up to her. You lead her to a bench in the shade of some trees, just in time as a bell rings and children swarm out of the mansion, carrying bags and books, hurrying off to their next lesson.

“How old do you think I am?” you ask Natasha.

“I don’t know, like 25?”

She looks stricken when you laugh, hoping she didn’t underestimate too badly.

“I was born in the 19th century–we estimate–so I’ve been about 25 for probably over 150 years now,” you reveal.

“Oh my God.” 

“I know, hopefully you’re not turned away by it,” you say. “I guess you can just say it means…I’m experienced,” you defend with a smirk. 

“So, you can’t die or you don’t age?”

“Both, I think. It’s part of my…mutation.” You don’t like using that word, but sometimes there’s not a better way to explain it. “Along with the healing and the claws.”

“And the metal?” Natasha had heard of mutants who could turn their bodies into metal, but not of one who had metal growing inside of them.

There’s a long pause. “No,” you finally say. “That was…um…” You wish you understood why it was so hard to talk about sometimes. It wasn’t like you remembered most of it, anyway. You had spent long, exhausting sessions with the professor trying to unearth the memories your own mind had locked away from you. 

You take a deep breath. “I was part of this government program. The ‘Weapon X Project,’ they called it. We’re not sure if my participation was initially voluntary, but in the end it didn’t matter. They turned me into a weapon, that’s all you need to know,” you spit, surprised at the frustration that suddenly boils inside of you. “They had the metal surgically grafted to my bones and brainwashed me so I knew nothing but violence and destruction. I was the best soldier they ever had. I couldn’t die, I had weapons built into my own arms, I listened to every command they gave…”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Natasha says, resting her hand on yours.

“You know the funniest part is that I served in a lot of wars. But I wasn’t a soldier. I was a nurse.” To this day, you wondered what the government saw in you to recruit you into their program. You weren’t a naturally aggressive or violent person at heart. You just wanted to help people. “I wish I could forget the things I do remember.” You bow your head and Natasha instinctively leans forward to touch her forehead against yours. “The pain I caused. The innocent lives I took–”

“Y/N. Hey. None of that was your fault,” Natasha says.

The memories flash through your head. The hot blood on your face and hands that wasn’t your own. The laughing of the guards as they strung you up like a pinata, batons at the ready. The smell of your own fear as you lay helpless on an operating table.

Natasha wraps her arms around you as you tilt forward, burying your face in her neck. When you inhale her scent, slightly flowery with a hint of your shampoo, you calm down almost immediately. 

“I know what it feels like,” Natasha whispers. “To not be in control of your body. To not be able to stop yourself from hurting someone.”

“You do?”

She nods. “The Red Room.”

And it suddenly clicks for you, although you’re not sure why it took so long. Natasha, while not necessarily a mutant, was likely treated the exact same way you had been in the Weapon X program. Here is one person who could understand you better than anyone else–even better than the people who could actually read your mind. 

“You have to forgive yourself. Because you weren’t in control of yourself,” Natasha says.

“I should’ve resisted harder,” you whimper.

“No. You did everything you could. Besides, they would’ve found someone else to get their dirty work done if you refused.” Natasha is unbelievably wise for her age. You’re sure this is your good karma finally delivering this beautiful and understanding young woman into your life. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, finally pulling back from her. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” 

You shrug. “You didn’t ask to be taken to another country, stuck in a truck for three days, dragged to a place filled with freaks like me–”

“Don’t say that. You’re not a freak and neither is anyone else here,” Natasha says. “You saved my life. Multiple times. I never asked you to and I never had anything to give you in return, but you did. And you still are. I can’t be more grateful for the night that I stumbled into that ratty old bar and met you.”

“Hey, the beers there are pretty good,” you defend good-naturedly.

“But the person I met there was even better.” Natasha’s hand comes up and rests on your cheek. You see her staring at your lips and you lean forward, unusually hesitant, but you don’t want to ruin this moment. “Can I…” she whispers.

“Of course, darling.” You press your mouth to hers, softly at first and then with a bit more force. Her tongue brushes your lower lip and the taste of her is toxic, causing a low growl of contentment to rumble in your chest. Your hands rest on her thighs, drawing yourself closer to her when–

“Hey, Y/N! Is that your new girlfriend?”

You yank back from Natasha with such speed Natasha thinks someone has forcibly torn you from her. Your head whips around and you see Kitty Pryde running up to you, books held in the crook of her arm, as she waves and whoops at you. A frighteningly tall, muscular guy trails behind her at a distance.

“Does no one go to class around here?” you grumble, getting up just in time for Kitty to fling herself at you. 

“I didn’t believe Marie, so I had to come see for myself,” Kitty says, squeezing you so tightly you can’t inhale. “You disappear for fourteen months and then you finally come back with a new girlfriend–”

“Kitty,” you snap, wishing she wasn’t so forthcoming with her thoughts, even though you had been the irresponsible one for kissing Natasha out in the open. 

“Hi, I’m Kitty!” The teenager ignores you and turns to Natasha. 

“Nat.” Natasha is amused by her energy and your clear annoyance with her. 

Kitty comes back to your side and leans in to whisper, although she still talks at a volume you’re certain Natasha can hear. “I think you picked a good one, she’s really pretty.”

“I know,” you hiss back, fighting a smile when you see Natasha light up in the corner of your eye.

“When are you guys eating lunch? Peter and I can join and make it a double date–”

“Oh, so you two are official now?” you ask. Kitty’s infatuations with him were utterly comical, and you wondered if he finally said yes to her only to get her to leave him alone. 

“Well, no. But we’re working on it!” she insists.

“I see,” you nod in mock understanding, mostly because you don’t think you’ll ever understand the mindset of a teenage girl in the 21st century. “We’ll see you later then.”

“Perfect! Bye, Nat!” Kitty runs back off to join Peter. 

You look back at Natasha and offer her your hand to help her stand up. “Sorry about…her.”

“I like her,” Natasha says. “And I like how much everyone here seems to like you, especially the kids. I knew you were a big softy under all that–”

“Okay, okay,” you growl, slipping your arm around her waist to bring her closer to you. You kiss her cheek lightly, feeling her skin heat up as she blushes at the affection. “Now, where were we–”

“Y/N. NATASHA.” A familiar voice booms out of nowhere. Natasha whirls around, looking up and down frantically in search of its origin. “PLEASE SEE ME IN MY OFFICE WHEN YOU TWO HAVE A CHANCE.”

“Is that…the professor?” Natasha asks.

“Yeah. Although he usually sends a messenger if he wants to communicate…”

“How did he do that?” 

“Oh, he’s inside our heads,” you answer a little too casually. Natasha hardly has time to ask another question before you’re pulling her back in the direction of the mansion. “Come on. Let’s go see him before he sends Scott after us…”

***********************************************************************

“They know you’re here, Natasha.”

The words sent Natasha into a panic. Her perfect world has suddenly shattered with a poisonous dose of reality. She had almost forgotten the danger she was still running from, which removes her from her cloud nine high almost immediately.

“Then I need to leave,” Natasha says, pacing Professor Xavier’s office. “I’m putting everyone here in danger–”

“Nat, sit down,” you beg, feeding off her anxiety. “Please?” You hold out your hand and she finally grasps it and plops down next to you on the professor’s leather couch. “You’ll be safe here. I promised, remember?”

“But you’re not safe!” she emphasizes. “And neither is anyone else–your friends, the children–”

“We won’t let anything happen to them,” you assure.

“We have three days until they come,” Professor Xavier says.

“Three days–How do you know that?” Natasha asks. 

Professor Xavier ignores her questions. “We’ll scare them away, but it won’t be a permanent solution. You are extremely important to them, Natasha. They aren’t happy to have lost you.”

“You’re…You’re not going to give me up, are you?” She clamps down hard on your hand, so hard that if your bones hadn’t been infused with metal, they might’ve cracked. 

“Of course not. But we will have to discuss a long-term solution.”

“So, we’ll keep moving then. Right Y/N?” Natasha looks at you desperately and you shake your head.

“There isn’t a corner of this planet you can hide from them on,” Professor Xavier says.

“So we go to them. Right?” Natasha’s brain is churning with endless scenarios. This is not the first time she’s wished for a normal life. To come home to a loving family, to relax and spend time with them, her only worry being what to cook for dinner. But if she had led a normal life, she wouldn’t have met you. She might not have known about the population of people with actual superpowers. 

And while no one–not even her–knew the location of the Red Room, she was certain Professor Xavier could figure it out with enough time (if he didn’t already know). But Natasha couldn’t endanger any of you more than she already had. This was her fight, not yours. As devastated as she would to have to leave you, she refused to put your life at risk because of her own past. 

“Natasha, just remember that you aren’t alone.”

She almost jumps off the couch when Professor Xavier’s voice echoes in his whole office. You’re sitting completely still, not even blinking, and Professor Xavier looks at her with a calm smile. Natasha still doesn’t understand how he does that and realizes you never told her what his powers are.

“You know who you can trust and ask for help.” Professor Xavier’s mouth doesn’t move at all. “She cares about you more than you know. And she won’t let anything happen to you.”

Natasha glances at you, still frozen in time. She reaches out to caress your cheek, so overwhelmed at the thought that someone actually likes her and would protect her. Her whole life she had been forced to be entirely dependent on herself, not able to trust another soul, and then you had come along and convinced her that she didn’t have to live like that anymore. What had she done to deserve you?

“Thank you,” Natasha says, even though she isn’t sure you can hear her.

“She is just as thankful to have you. I’ve never seen her this excited to be around someone before. I know you’ll be good to her and take care of her in turn.”

“Of course.” Natasha couldn’t imagine treating you otherwise and she knows the professor knows this as well. 

“Nat? Are you okay?” you ask suddenly, acting as if you hadn’t missed a beat in the conversation.

“I’ll be okay,” she says. “Because I have you.”

***********************************************************************

The impending third day weighs heavily on Natasha’s mind, so much that she can hardly enjoy her new relationship with you. At night, you’ve now finally welcomed sharing a bed with her, letting her snuggle up to you so she can share your body heat. You’re surprisingly more affectionate than she figured you would be, but you are still very careful whenever you hold her hand, almost as if you don’t trust yourself to be gentle with her. But Natasha knows you’ll never hurt her and she is very patient to show you.

“Bless their hearts to attack on a weekend,” Ororo says as you watch the last van full of children pull away from the mansion. Jean and Scott, at the professor’s instruction, had organized a last-minute weekend retreat for the students, sending them far out of the city where they would be out of harm’s way. Some of the older students, like Marie, Bobby, Kitty and Peter, had volunteered to stay and fight the Red Room agents. You weren’t very comfortable with the idea of them staying, but they refused to leave. 

“Hopefully the school is still standing when they return on Monday,” Scott notes and you glare at him. 

“They won’t bomb us. Imagine how that would look in the news,” Jean says.

“We’ll be okay,” you remind Natasha, who is exuding waves of pure anxiety. She wraps her arms around your waist, burying her face into your shoulder. You catch a glimpse of Jean looking at the two of you, but you’re not sure if she’s jealous or happy for you. 

“The goal is to scare them off. Not destroy all of their numbers,” Professor Xavier chimes in.

“I’m just here to do whatever I need to to protect this school,” you mutter, although you’re not exactly looking forward to the bloodshed either.

“Yes, I know,” Professor Xavier says. “If you can keep their blood off my velvet curtains this time I would greatly appreciate it–”

“Yeah, yeah,” you interrupt, turning away in embarrassment. You and Natasha head back into the mansion while the others see off the last van. She goes with you to your room for some private time. You freshen up with a shower (having gotten a little sweaty helping the kids carry their overstuffed luggages into the vans) and Natasha writes in her new journal Marie gave to her. You come out of the shower, fully dressed but your hair wet and ruffled in a way that Natasha finds extremely attractive, so much that she immediately comes over and sits on your lap the moment you rest on the edge of the bed. 

She looks deep into your eyes and you almost shy away; if you didn’t know any better you would have been sure she was trying to read your mind. Your hands circle around her back, holding her firmly on your lap as she leans forward to kiss you. Her hands bunch up in the front of your shirt when your lips touch as if she wants to hold you there forever–and you would gladly let her.

You fall back on the bed, Natasha wasting no time to straddle you and she grinds herself along your abs. You can smell her arousal and it makes your mouth practically water. You cup her bottom, squeezing teasingly and she gasps, a lustful spark lighting in her eye. Her fingers pop open the top few buttons of your shirt and she dips her head to nip at the exposed skin of your neck and chest.

“Nat,” you pant, jerking your hips up as you feel your own arousal building. “Are you sure you want to–”

“I want you so bad,” she whispers and a jolt runs through you. “But I…” You freeze, afraid that you’re inadvertently pressuring her. 

“I can wait,” you assure. 

“It’s not that.” She shakes her head. “It’s just…I haven’t really…” Natasha looks away from you in shame. While she isn’t exactly a virgin, she’s also never been intimate with anyone she’s ever cared about. She’s nervous to disappoint you or that she won’t be able to make you happy.

“It’s okay,” you say, kissing her softly. “I’ll show you what to do.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Natasha sits back with a grin, reaching down to unbutton the rest of your flannel. You lay there patiently as she looks at you shirtless for the first time, admiring the defined muscles of your abdomen and shoulders. She licks her lips as she runs her hands along your exposed skin, which twitches and flexes as you hold back a laugh from the way it tickles. “Y/N, can I–”

The door suddenly bursts open and Ororo appears, wild-eyed and agitated. Natasha flops on your chest and you hold her protectively against you, completely annoyed at Ororo’s interruption.

“They’re here,” Ororo pants.

“What do you mean, ‘they’re here?’” you repeat, sitting up and struggling to button your shirt back up. 

“They changed their plans last minute. Come downstairs now!” Ororo dashes out and you wonder if she even had time to process what she had seen you and Natasha doing.

“We’ll continue this later,” you tell Natasha, kissing her on the forehead and running out of your bedroom.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: It's getting hot in here. 👀

Part 4 is here!

Please leave likes, comments, and reblogs! 🥰

[corynation]

OMG NO 😂😂

From what i saw from greys he isnt dereks brother i think ??

Also... Mark slept with dereks sister in the show so i thought it was ok to ask?

Sorry if i didnt make myself clear tho 😂

But she can totally not be dereks sister

Anyway sorry for the confusion

New Beginnings

alex karev x reader

tags : angst, some fluff, uhhh more tags, this is a little everywhere but i hope its okay, not that sad but enough to need a part 2

“Derek? Wha-“

“I need to stay here tonight.” He kept his head down as he shuffled his way through the door, water drops flowing off his hair.

“Is everything okay? Where’s Addison?” The look Derek gave you was almost enough to answer every question that was running through your head. You stood silently as he threw his duffel bag on the couch, his soaked jacket following. He plopped down in the arm chair, palms rubbing his face.

“I’ll get you some hot cocoa to warm up.”

“No don’t I’m fine.”

Your eyebrow raised at his poor attempt in deterring your concern.

“Oh god you look like mom.” Derek chuckled, lighting the heaviness in the room.

“What happened with Addison Derek? Why are you here?”

His face dropped once more almost immediately. The change drawing regret straight out of your core. “I found her sleeping with Sloan.”

“Mark!?” Hearing the most unexpected name come out your stomach churned in a way that made you swear you were about to hurl. The barriers around your emotions all crumbling at once.

“Are we really surprised.” Derek sighed, flattening himself out onto the couch.

“I mean? Yes? No? I don’t.. I mean he’s your best friend?” Surely it wasn’t out of character for Marks sexual.. tendencies to say the least. But still there was a part of you that couldn’t believe he’d sleep with the wife of the man he practically called a brother. Especially after growing so close to him in the past months. You shared everything together and nothing that was said or done could’ve prepared you for this. Your heart ached more then it ever did before, both for Derek but also yourself. Mark was your first, and you had naively convinced yourself he’d be the last. And though you wanted more than anything to curl up in a ball on the floor with Derek and sob your eyes out until the numb feeling that soared through your nerve endings disappeared, Derek didn’t know anything about you and Mark, and you sure as hell weren’t about to have this be the time he finds out. It took more then you thought you had in you to conceal your emotions. Fighting back the familiar sting of tears became a war for the first time, but you stood your ground against it. Sure you and Mark hadn’t taken the time to talk about making things exclusive, but really you didn’t think you needed to. What you felt with Mark was enough to flood your senses full, not able to even consider someone else entering the picture.

And maybe you were stupid to think he felt the same.

It felt futile to hide the burn in your chest, knowing it was evident in your face. But still you tried to mask your feelings, hoping it would be seen as nothing but compassion towards your brother. You’d drag the sun out by your bare hands to bring sunshine after a life of darkness if it meant the best for Derek.

“Yeah well obviously that doesn’t mean much.” The scene of Derek face down on the couch with his arms dangling at weird angles was almost comical enough to bring you out of your anger. In a sad attempt to stifle your laugh, a small giggle escaped your lips. Derek just looked up from his resting spot and gave you the warmest smile you’ve seen from him all night, the picture perfect resemblance of a child.

“Derek I don’t-“ You were cut off mid sentence by the ringing of Dereks phone. He was hesitant to pick it up, most likely praying to himself it wasn’t the two talks of the night.

“Hold that thought I have to take this.” He cleared his throat before answering the phone, his eyebrows stiffening. “Hi Richard, sorry for emailing so late..” Was all you caught as he stepped out of the room.

The anticipation building in you was almost enough to drive you mad. Derek had been on the phone for ten minutes now and you weren’t able to hear any of it. You had began your (what felt like at least) 100th lap around the room, as Derek finally stepped back in. The suspense in the room falling instantly as his demeanor brought nothing but a strange joy.

“Richard Webber from Seattle Grace just called.”

“Okay..?” You sat down on the couch, Derek following.

“He found us both a job, very well pay, I’d be head of neuro, and you’ll be a trauma attending ! It’s perfect! He said he could even throw in a sign on bonus for you for the sudden notice! We start Monday.”

“At Seattle Grace?”

“Well obviously.”

“Derek? Are you insane? Like are you actually going insane because if you are I can understand why.”

“Am I.. Are you going insane? Y/n this is the perfect job opportunity! It’s everything you’ve worked for come on!”

There was a shared silence between the two of you, you each studying the other trying to feel out the mix of emotions you both had been throwing out into the room. Derek looked at you with eyes of an insane man, his lips a curl of typical mischief.

“Derek. This job is in Seattle. Seattle Washington! We live in New York! You can not bring in a life changing job, and move, that I have to do in two days and expect me to jump at it! I know you want to get away from Addison right now but Seattle seriously? Don’t you think that’s taking it a little far?”

“Yes! That’s the point. Come with me or don’t but you’ll sure as hell look idiotic for not.” You let out a sigh at his words, your jaw tensing.

“Derek we’re talking about both of our whole lives right now. Our family is here, our homes, hell our jobs!”

~

“Y/n! welcome to Seattle Grace. I know the offer was a short notice but I appreciate you coming.” Richard Webber, the chief of Seattle Grace, greeted you at the entrance. A great smile plastered across his face as he reached out to shake your hand.

“Of course Richard. Thank you for the offer. I know you wanted me out sooner but like I told Derek, it was insane for me to do the move in two days. So I really do appreciate the exception, it was more than generous of you.” You smiled, accepting the greeting.

“Oh i know it was. But anything for an old friend’s family. And it would be great to have another genius on hand.”

“Old friend?”

“Oh yes, Dr. Shepherd and I have worked on a few cases together in the past. I’ve spent my fair share of time in New York.” Richard spoke as he began to walk through the hospital, his hand reaching behind him to motion for you to follow. “Now I know Derek has been working here for a week now, and could show you around, but I’m going to go ahead and assign you an intern for the day. Someone to show you around and have do all the unnecessary paperwork for you.”

“Oh no Dr. Webber, no need to do that. You’ve already accommodated so much around me. Surely I can find my way around today.”

“Absolutely no need for that Dr. Shepherd. Let me make the day easier for you please.” You smiled at Richard and nodded, fully appreciating the gesture. He nodded and turned around, his finger pointing to a shorter woman across the room at the nurses station.

“Bailey!” The woman whipped her head around, eyebrows raised and an unfazed expression spread on her face. She began walking towards you and Richard, five other doctors following her lead almost immediately. You giggled to yourself as they all looked like a scene of baby ducks following their mom; though these baby ducks did look particularly tired and worn.

“Can you give me one of your children please. I need someone to be with Dr. Shepherd for the day while she settles in. You know like show her around yada yada.”

“Karev go.” Dr. Bailey ordered turning around and beginning to walk back to what she was doing.

“Me? But I’ve got-“ One of the doctors that had been following Bailey began saying, walking backwards to keep up with her in order to plea.

“Karev. GO.”

He stood in the middle of the room, arms up in defeat. You almost felt bad for him until he turned to face you, eyes narrowed and lips pursed as if this was somehow your fault.

“Come on lets get this over with.” He snarled while walking back towards you.

“Hey don’t be pissed at me, I sure as hell didn’t want you to be the one showing me around.” Karev stopped to take a good look at you, almost completely dumbfounded after your response. He scanned your face, either trying to decide who you were to talk to him like that, or the opposite of the spectrum and he was just trying to hide his admiration.

Your grand hospital tour was finally coming to an end after almost two hours. Alex had taken the time to show you each wing, introduce you to each head of department, and even showed you the vending machines that are least likely to scam you. At first he had seemed like a nightmare to be around, almost like a brooding angsty teenager who didn’t like anyone, but after warming up to him (or maybe him warming up to you?) Alex actually seemed more then tolerable. He made you laugh more then you have in awhile. His presence lighting you more than you’ve felt since your first night with Mark, which in all honesty bewildered you more then you imagined. Questioning yourself on how, or why you had become so comfortable around Alex in such little of time.

Honestly he felt like Mark felt. But for some sick reason, that maybe was just a play on your emotions, the man you had just met three hours ago made you feel lighter then Mark had in 20 years. He felt like a flow of fresh rain water after a drought, cleansing you of all toxins and slowly making you new. He was rain and you were the starved flower.

Yet Mark felt like the water saved from the last rain. Still coursing through your veins and settling into your heart and soul. Something that once kept you alive, was once your everything, now something you couldn’t get out of your system without feeling like you were sucked dry, moments away from an inevitable end.

It hadn’t quite struck you how much the Mark situation had hit you before now. Really you hadn’t had time to feel how the situation made you feel. The thought of butterflies returning to you uncovered a deep empty void that was quick to cover your senses.

The sudden wave of emotions hit you hard, but still you tried to remain as unaffected by it as possible. Though you knew you had done quite the shitty job of that after you caught Alex glancing at you with concern from the corner of your eye.

“So,” he coughed, obviously trying to diffuse the odd tension that had began. “What department do you plan to work in after residency?”

“Well actually I’m a trauma attending.”

“Attending? You look younger than me!”

“Well I am 24.” You giggled at the widened eyes of Alex, his jaw practically on the floor.

“24!?”

“Yep! Baby of the family.”

“Baby of the entire hospital! I mean how’d you even get here?”

“Well Dr. Karev that is a long story we could discuss over coffee tomorrow morning.” It was out your mouth before you could even sit to consider it. Alex looked taken aback for a moment, obviously not expecting that just as much as you were.

“Deal.” Alex warmly smiled, his eyes gleaming with something more than before.

okay hii!!! this req is so late im so sorry😭 also this isnt the og post but i cant find that one so I am using this!!! im gonna be honest ive wrote this little by little over the past few months so i really hope its all somewhat cohesive ????? idk atleast readable but im also crossing my fingers that this is okay cause its my first req :)

so without being said i hope you guys enjoyed and i will be making a part two trust 🙏🏻

and listen i know being 24 and being an attending is like damn near impossible but its greys. there was literally a unfazed bazooka in a guys chest.

[itstheghostofmypast]

San's Lucky Charm

San x (f)Reader ft. Hongjooong

Summary: The five times Choi San had felt so lucky that the world around him would cease to exist.

Genre: Fluff (a tinge of angst) (simp San- i do not regret this)

Warnings: None

A/N: Choi San's got me whipped, I just can't. Please remember to show some love by 💗 and reblogs

"I'm so lucky." his mumbling caught her ear, heading snapping in his direction as she glared at him from the kitchen island, the contents of his unmade birthday cake spread out in shame. Placing his jacket and phone on the couch, he made his way to the open kitchen, trying not to look at the content displayed on the kitchen island, that would upset her even more, he knew better than to upset his lucky charm. Arms wrapped around her waist, he smiled down at her, crescents adorning his face, the apples of his cheeks radiating a soft blush, on similar to the first time she had made him feel like this. With pouted lips he mimicked whatever cute being he could imagine and mumbled out an "I’m sorry, I wanted to surprise you."

"Yeah, well you ruined my surprise, big boy."

His heart slammed against his rib cage with an intensity that scared him, fearing that she, no, the whole world could hear the way it hammered against his soul, when he laid eyes on her, when her sweet chime would ring in his ears, when he would feel her breath in his soul- it was her, it was the same experience, a form of Deja vu he would go through each time, falling in love with her all over again. It made him feel so lucky, she made him feel so lucky. There were many occasions when she made him feel as such, but there were five moments in particular that made his heart race and cheeks flush every time the memories crossed his mind.

1)The first time she had been ever so graceful to bless him with luck was when he, according to himself, needed it the most. In their pre-debut years, when he was but a country side boy experiencing life in Seoul, the bustling and busy life had begun to take a toll on his health. The late-night practices back at their studio in Gangnam weren't helping him either. He had thought of talking about this to either Hongjoong or Yunho but he knew himself well enough that he'd rather endure the pain than bring any form of discomfort to anyone else.

It was after their third practice session when he had asked to go take a five-minute breather, which, after noticing his flushed features and worn-out eyes, Hongjoong instantly agreed to with a “Take 10 instead”.

After thanking his soon-to-be Captain, he walked out into the corridor, dragging his feet across the tiles to the vending machine at the corner. This very vending machine had become his very best friend in these dire times of the night, where the mint chocolate Oreo packets were waiting for him every night. Not the healthiest snack but it is an enjoyable one nonetheless. Unfortunately, his favourite machine was not cooperating that night, spitting out that note he'd push in, whining in frustration he slammed his hand against the glass, watching everything inside shiver, but nothing else came out.

Taking a deep breath, he tried one more time, flattening the note in his palms and waving it in the air to blow away any bad luck. A pointless feat for as soon as the machine sucked in the note, it spat it back out and in return, he banged his forehead against the glass, repetitively, until he heard someone clear their throat. Twirling around he whined, "Hyuuuug, gimme a note-"

"Not Hongjoong, but you can take mine."

"What- oh" he squeaked, clearing his throat and rubbing his eyes to squint at the source, he had seen her before a few times, she was part of the temp staff, odd jobs here and there, but she was mainly here because of Hongjoong. His captain didn't have many friends, not many he trusted, but she had been one of those special few. According to Yeosang, she was as weird as Hongjoong when it came to her work, though he wasn't sure what her real role was.

"Here." moving past him she slipped her note into the machine and punched in the code, watching the biscuit fall into the tray. He was thankful he really was, and would've thanked her verbally too if he wasn't so flustered and tired. As her hand read to grab it from the tray another packet fell onto the tray as well as she chuckled, surprised but amused nonetheless. His eyes widened for a split second but softened at the sound of her little laugh, a smile gracing his lips as he felt a new sense of confidence bloom within his chest, eyes meeting her's when she faced him, holding out two packets, "Here, guess you were lucky today."

"I guess I was." he watched her walk away, somewhat saddened by the conclusion of their short encounter, yet, in his head her words twirled with passion, one that lit his heart on fire- San had always been everything, but lucky. He was smart, hardworking, and dedicated and in return his chest cavity was filled with a pure, glass heart- luck had never been in the picture. Especially not 10 minutes ago, so it was not him whose fate had finally jinxed the machine into giving him what his wee heart desired in the late hours of the night, no, it was her. She was the one who was lucky- an overreach, perhaps, but one his 16-year-old self had begun to take note of, hence, tonight he was lucky to have been graced by her presence.

2) "Need help with tha-at?" grimacing at the way his voice cracked at the end of the question, extremely unappealing, cursing his hormones. The tall, slender boy, cleared his throat, his beanie covering his forehead and eyebrows, his -Yunho's- sweater a bit too large on his frame.

"Hmm? Oh hi, Sannie- no, no I'm good." she peaked from above the two boxes she had been carrying. He was about to pester her even more, but stopped when Wooyoung slipped past him, taking a box off the other one to lighten her burden, earning a small 'Thanks'.

"Wouldn't want our fragile boy to get hurt." He winked at his friend who was now walking next to the two, almost third wheeling - dramatic as it may be, but after the machine encounter, he had come to the realisation that when it came to her, he was no less than a jester in a Shakespearean play for her, not that she had ever claimed so, but he would become one, making a fool out of himself had become his second nature. Wooyoung's statement, it was a simple joke, and an inside joke, it was true though, Yunho had once compared him to a kitten as well, claiming that his head was too big for his fragile body. Wasn't wrong though, San was on the skinnier side, but it's not like he didn't eat, he really did, but perhaps that’s how he was designed to be.

"Careful Wooyoung, he's already outgrown you in height," placing the box on Hongjoong's desk, much to his disapproval, "What are you gonna do if he bulks up too?"

San, who was sulking at the back, perked up at the suggestion, quietly taking a seat next to Seonghwa who slid him a file. Snorting out in response Wooyoung squinted at San then at her, "Nah."

"We'll see." she shrugged and handed a pen and clipboard to Hongjoong, "Sign here please, make sure to tip the delivery person."

"You gotta stop taking these odd jobs." He mumbled signing the papers, "Just ask for an increment here." handing her the papers back he rolled his eyes at the lack of attention from his friend, taking in the way her eyes were stationed upon the boy across him, studying his face as he read his own file.

"What's this?" he whispered to Seonghwa who shrugged, not even bothering to look up for him game, "Gym membership, Yeo and Jongho signed up too. Was Y/N's idea."

His head shot up at a whine, "Hongjoong, what is 0.02% tip?"

"Based on the service provided."

"EXCUSE ME?"

He watched the two argue, wanting to ask her something, but he was never going to in front of everyone, so he waited, patiently as ever, for much like how he was considerate, he was patient as well. "20℅"

"2% and no more, or I swear I'll send an anonymous complaint about you."

"I hope your food delivery gets cancelled." with that she stomped out, earning a roar of laughter from the table of his groupmates and curses from Hongjoong. Quick as a cat he pounced at the door, running behind her into the staircase, "Wait up!" he called out spontaneously, unsure of what was to be said next.

"Hmm?" she turned to him, clipboard in hand, "Yes?"

"I… I um." clearing his throat he looked around, "I- this- I mean hyung gave me this and- What I mean is, do you think I should go for it-"

"You don't have to bulk up for anyone San. Not Wooyoung, not the world", smiling at him she took the pen in his hand and wrote something on her own clipboard, "And not me." looking at him she handed it back, "Just do whatever you want, but because you want to do it."

"O-oh…" his cheeks had begun to match the colour of his red sweater, as he looked at his feet nodding. Just like last time, he watched her walk away, leaving him feeling that same thing once more, feeling lucky to know someone out there was looking out for him without any personal gain just wanting him to be happy.

That day he signed up for the gym, not for anyone but himself. That very day Hongjoong mysteriously ended up paying a 20% tip to the delivery person- "How-I swear I'll kill her."

3) The third time Choi San had been blessed by his lucky charm was his personal favourite. The World album was a success, things were going well, they were planning on a world tour, promotions and sponsorships were, and everything was great but for some reason, Choi San felt a bit out of place. Wasn't sure if it was the fatigue or the lingering thought of how he could've done even better. He had come to this realisation during the celebratory dinner, that everyone around him was having fun, drinking, eating, and letting loose. Seated between Wooyoung and Hongjoong, he had opted to not drink, knowing he was a light drinker, someone had to take care of his brothers, even if they were at the dorm, he had to make sure each one got into bed properly. While there had been no clear topic discussing his lack of effort, the group had started talking about how each member had worked themselves to their limits, Jongho and Wooyoung being the two most affected.

"Sannie held out well though." Hongjoong patted his head, "Strong boy" the drunk leader claimed before going back to talk about Wooyoung who was basking in the unfiltered attention. It wasn't like he didn't have problems as well; he had been spending an unimaginable time at the gym and then at practice, with little time left for sleeping or eating, and even though his body had begun to show signs of fatigue, he refused to take a hint. Whether he’d admit it or not, he had seen how hard everyone was working and he had no intention of burdening them even more, which is why, during their last performance of the season, when he stood there out of breath, almost on the verge of tears, he prayed to God his body wouldn’t give up on him- at least not while they were still on stage. Although berated by Hongjoong later, he was glad during the time he could help the team give a hundred percent, but apparently, for the little voice inside his head, that still wasn’t enough. It would constantly remind him of how each member had somehow outdone him, and improved more than he did, no matter how much time he’d spend at the gym, at practice, and in vocal classes, he still lagged behind.

Upon closing Wooyoung’s bedroom door, after tucking him all good, he sighed, returning to the lounge, thinking of cleaning up so they’d have less to do in the morning. They had moved into a house, which meant they were to clean up after themselves too, but at least everyone had their own rooms now. His thoughts were not going to let him sleep anytime soon, brain on overdrive, irritated by the slightest crunch of the plastic foil, or the way his glasses would slip off the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t until he was done throwing away all the Tupperware that the sound of the doorbell had his entire body jerk, a small squeak escaping his lips, like a scared cat, ears burning out embarrassment he cleared his throat and glanced at the clock. It was already past midnight, only a handful of people had their addresses and the manager had specifically told them to not bother him for the night, which is why he tip-toed to the door, pressing on the intercom and waiting for the other person to respond, since their intercom had no visual option, thanks to Mingi who had claimed that such things record and attract ghosts.

“You gonna let me in or just wait like a creep?”

It was her? The last he had heard from her was from Hongjoong, who had looked particularly annoyed that day, almost two years ago, when San was budding up the courage to confess to her, to woo her, after taking notes from Wooyoung- not a great idea but his man always had his back. So, when he had decided to go to her in her little cubicle, he was shocked to find it empty, He returned to the practice room to find Hongjoong staring at his laptop, unmoving. He had chosen to not ask about her- since his captain looked deep in thought, but his next question had caught the man off guard, “San, what do you think about Y/N?”

A simple question he had no real answer to, no, he did have an answer to it, but he wanted to see how it would play out, did perhaps Hongjoong share similar feelings as him? He had known her longer than San did, they were closer too, perhaps he was only questioning to ensure the younger one didn’t like her back. The thought process took so long that Hongjoong had begun to continue his monologue, rendering San’s response useless and untold, “She’s moving to the States, to study, apparently saved enough to afford the degree she wanted- I mean she could have gotten it here too, but when does she ever listen.” That day he had just nodded along with his sad captain, giving him a sympathetic smile every so often as he narrated about how he had met her back in school and she had told him they’d become rich one day and now he was all alone.

“Hongjoong, I will not be climbing over the gate in a skirt”, eyes widening at the static voice erupting from the intercom he cleared his throat before pressing the button, “It's open.” Was all he said before quickly turning to glance at his reflection in the closest reflective object, then smoothed down his shirt. A white tee over sweatpants was not how he wanted her to see him after two years. Pushing his glasses back up to their original position he opened the door to come face to face with his object of admiration and closeted love. She had grown, matured, and turned into a beauty he would willingly drop to his knees for, just to bask in her glow.

Her fist was about to meet the wood of the door before it opened, a certain someone coming in view, his shy eyes meeting her curious ones, a small smile gracing her lips as she casually let out a, “You’ve grown big, Sannie”, causing him to let out a nervous chuckle.

She watched him pour something in two mugs, admiring the expanse of his back, shoulders as wide as the ocean, the shirt clinging onto him for its dear life every time he’d move, he had grown taller too, and his physical presence was now a sweet contrast with his shy personality, the introverted being that he was. Turning to her with a gentle smile he placed the coffee in front of her, “Sorry about the mess,” sitting in front of her, the marble bar between the two, “Everyone went to sleep a while ago, including Hongjoong.” He claimed carefully, somehow the voice was back, telling him how she was not here for him, but his leader, perhaps wanting to surprise him, and meeting San was nothing more than a coincidence.

Resting her elbow on the counter she hummed, chin in hand, smiling at him, other hand tracing random patterns on the marble, “I had a feeling, but I didn’t come here for him, I came for you.” Her confession had him choking on his coffee, hissing at the burning sensation, as he slammed his mug down, causing her to run around to him, rubbing his back as she took the mug from him.

Clearing his throat to restore whatever shambles of his dignity he had left, he looked at her for an explanation, earning a nervous chuckle, she looked up at him, “You really have grown, I can’t believe I have to look up at you even when I’m standing and you’re sitting.”

"Don't change the subject." he cut her off, if what she had said was a joke, he didn't find it funny at all, "What do you mean by you came here to see me." His eyes bore a kind of sharpness that made her skin tingle, fingertips itching to smoothen the newly formed creases between his brows.

"I can only pin on you for so long, Sannie." a mumble escaped her, and suddenly everything but his face became more interesting.

"I don't…understand."

With a defeated sigh she shook her head, going back to her bar stool, perching herself atop it, radiating her usual bright arua as if nothing had happened. "What I meant was, I came to tell Hongjoong that I've moved back to the company" Pausing to glance up at him, making sure he was processing her words, she noticed the dark circles that had seemed to become one with his face, his tired eyes boring into hers, "I also know you almost blacked out in the last performance…. Was gonna yell at him for not noticing earlier."

Neither of the two when it had happened or when it had begun, but by the time she had finished her statement, the two were merely inches away, bodies separated by the counter but faces so close their breaths were mingling together, basking in each other's warmth. Perhaps it was he who had leaned in closer first, he was taller than her, and her entire weight was on her elbows as she tried to meet him halfway. His sharp eyes scanned her features, wondering why he hadn't mustered up the courage before she had left, the voice in his head yelling at him, warning him that if he made a move, he'd probably ruin their friendship and his dynamic with their leader.

"Why…" he whispered, his insecurities getting the better of him.

"Are you really going to make me say it, big boy?" with one final thought she leaned in closer, lips brushing against his before quickly pulling back and sitting properly.

He sat there, upper body leaning on top of the counter, looking at her with an unreadable expression, crooked glasses framed on his flushed face, staring right at her with eyes as big as a hyperactive cat's.

"Wait. Once more."

His words caught her off guard, a bubby laugh breaking past her lips as she shook her head, "No, you need to go to sleep, you're tired as hell."

Whining he moved around the counter to come to her, as she turned to face him, looking up at him expectantly, "I don't think you understand, you need to nurse me back to health."

"What?" chuckling she shoved him playfully, surprised by how she was unable to move him even an inch, blushing at the thought of what he'd feel like against her.

"You heard me, one more!" gesturing with his finger he leaned in closer only to pause when she cupped his face, squishing his cheeks, "I only kiss boys who are well rested." There it was, after two whole years, the warmth of being loved, the hug of luck, wrapping around him, silencing the tiny voice at the back of his head.

Pecking the tip of his nose, she smiled at the way his nose scrunched up in response. His fingers wrapped around her wrists gently peeling her hands off his face, never breaking eye contact even once, tilting his head he kissed the palm of her hand, before standing tall over her, her hands in his. Finally, he was having his moment, with his lucky charm, anticipating many more to come.

"You're my lucky charm." he beamed, admiring the way her eyes widened for a second before turning into crescents, her smile the biggest he'd ever seen.

"And I'm going to have so much fun with this."

The two froze at the new voice, dreading who it was, so much so that she didn't even dare turn her flushed face to face the third party interrupting their little moment. San on the other hand burst into a smile, turning to face him, still hand in hand with his lucky charm, "You're good at keeping secrets, right hyung?"

Yunho, it was always Yunho who caught them

4) The fourth time a similar feeling of lucky rode up his spine was an unexpected one, one that led him to owe Yunho another favour. Like any other day at work, San was busy going through sheets of music he was given, wondering when to practice with Jongho, considering the two were going to work out together as well. He hadn’t looked up from the sheets until someone came and sat beside him, glancing at the person who chose to sit right next to him in a room filled with empty seats, Yunho. "You talked to Y/N today?" Yunho asked, casually picking up one of the music sheets. Since that fateful night, Yunho had promised to keep their relationship a secret, though he had warned San in private, that although her relationship with Hongjoong was platonic, there was a sense of brotherly protectiveness the captain showed around her. One wrong move could unleash the beast.

"We texted in the morning, why?" placing down his sheet he turned to look at Yunho, something had to be wrong, otherwise, Yunho would never talk about their relationship at work, even at the dorm, it was more of a secret texting thing. Y/N had even made a group chat comprised with the three of them. Though it comprised Yunho and Y/N spamming the chat more than anything, San would just scroll through at night, smiling at the silly memes or banter.

"Did you notice… anything odd?" the older one asks, placing the sheet between them, "I haven't seen her around though, so I thought she didn't come by."

"No" he frowned in confusion, clearly remembering her telling him in the morning that she'd come to work and the two could have lunch, though she later cancelled it and said she had a meeting to go to, "I…is something wrong?"

"San, you gotta pick up on hints bro, or at least think like most people do." Yunho sighed, before balling up a paper and tossing it at him, landing smack on his forehead as he winced, rubbing his palm over his forehead, letting out a confused, "Did I do something?"

"No, I don't think it's you." he hummed thinking to himself, "But if you want to ever get Hongjoong's approval, you should accept the first thing about her, she’d rather keep in all her little secrets than tell anyone she’s hurting, which assume you already know."

That's all it had taken for San to bounce back on his feet and stomp out of the room, he knew, he just knew she had finally snapped, but being herself, she would have never let anyone see her during her moments of vulnerability. Fortunately for her, Choi San had always known where she'd go during those moments, a place he had stumbled upon during his trainee years, the rooftop. He had come up here once, trying to clear his head from all the commotion, when Hongjoong and Wooyoung had disagreed on something turning into a war of insults thrown back and forth, so to avoid the toxicity he had come up here, only to free by the door when he heard a sniffle. He knew he should've left, but he just had to know if he could help the person out, be better, a useful person- he couldn't though, for when he had peaked outside, he froze, eyes casting on a slouched figure sitting on the ground, hugging her knees as she stared ahead- no, that day Choi San had backed out and left her there to cry, too afraid to approach her, but not tonight.

The door slammed open causing her breath to hitch, instantly wiping her tears with the back of her hand, stood up to turn and lock eyes with the person she had been trying to avoid all day.

Within a matter of minutes, she was wrapped in his warmth, face flush against his chest, his scent enveloping her, snug and secure in his loving embrace. He stood there with her in his arms, protecting her from the chilly breeze, one hand placed on her back while the other one loving caressed her head. Placing a chaste kiss to the side of her head he whispered, "I don't know what's got you so upset, but no one gets to hurt my lucky charm."

That night the two stayed up there on the roof with the moon and stars watching over them. He was seated on the ground, with her side pressed into him, nuzzling into his neck ever so often, forcing a contented sigh out of him, arm lazily draped over her form as he began to hum a random tune.

"Won't you ask me…why I'm here?"

If he weren't literally pressed to her, her whisper would've gone deaf to his ears. Fortunately for both of them, their relationship had birthed a newly formed sense of confidence in him, which is why he would always be watching her, observing her, listening to her, from her words to the beating of her heart.

"I won't force you."

It was these words that led him to open the floodgates of her insecurities, wave after wave, poured into him, with full hopes of having the ability to swim through it all. That night she told him about how people would associate her with a gold-digger because she was friends with Hongjoong, how when she had told this to him, he had confronted the people making it worse, no one ever believed they were just best friends. It was after that she decided to move abroad for her degree, to prove everyone wrong and to make sure when she came back, she'd be respected by everyone, including San. That night she had confessed that she had been pinning on him ever since Hongjoong introduced the two, which is why when the rumours got worse, she feared he would believe they were true, resulting in the decision of her degree abroad. Even after coming back, even after finally being able to love him freely, she was labelled as the same, but what was worse was that if their relationship was ever to surface, then she would be accused of using the kind-hearted man, because San was gullible, always had been and according to many she was a witch. No one had ever seen her struggle, or noticed the number of odd jobs she had, yet, here they all stood ready to accuse her, what she feared the most was that one day, if they were able to convince him, he might accuse her of it too.

By the end of her confession, all San remembers is that he had ended up crying, pulling her closer to him, if that were even possible. He shoved her face further into his hoodie, letting her take it all out, strategically keeping his tears hidden from her. It was moments like these that had him battling his intrusive thoughts, the urge to set the cold, dark world on fire to keep his little lucky charm warm and safe. His heart swimming in the mush of feelings that he would melt into, once her words settled in, her concerns about him leaving, making him feel so valued, so important, so lucky.

5) The fifth time San had felt this innate feeling of luck consume him, was a moment he had dreaded for days before mustering up the courage to face it, one that he was so uncertain of, that if it weren't for the way their fingers were locked together and how she would gently squeeze his hand from time to time, he would've done two things; 1) Piss himself and 2) run away with his tale between his legs.

Perhaps because it was so uncalled for, so sudden that he could not prepare. Though he was never fun to be afraid of spontaneous situations unless those situations involved her. Much like any other day, everything went smoothly, everything had gone according to plan, almost everything. He had managed to ensure everyone would leave the dorm, thanks to Yunho's help, it was their 3rd month anniversary and even though she had insisted on not making a big deal out of it, San was hell-bent on making up for lost time, claiming he owed it to her.

Yunho had devised a simple plan, take everyone out for dinner and at that last moment, San could pull back with a fake tummy ache, giving him the privacy, he'd need for his little surprise for her. Simple. And for a while, he did think he would pull this off. He had managed to stay home, set up his room with candles, scattering rose petals across the room and set up the track to set the mood, all tips given by Yunho himself.

Now, he just had to wait, for he had already texted her to hurry to their dorm since he had managed to "hurt" himself. For a while, he waited patiently, until his anxiety started to kick in, especially when he realised, she had left his message on read.

He had been staring at the small coffee table, two plates neatly aligned at either side, but a purple velvet box in one. No, it wasn't anything big, he had just decided to get them something, she had once talked about couple bracelets and how she wondered why people get them. For him though, small gestures like these meant a lot, a true simp at heart. This "little gesture" was more than a mere accessory, it was a statement, of belonging to someone, of sharing a good portion of your heart with someone. To prove this, he had gotten them these, even if he couldn't wear it all the time, he'd keep it close to him, a small token representing his vast love for her.

He had been staring at the box when he heard a faint knock and the click door open. A second of panic flashed before his eyes, quickly bent down to fix the already properly placed items, turned around and rambled, "Y/N, h-hey, sorry for that message, I- I thought you weren't going to come because you're busy and…."

"Well, this seems…romantic."

"Hyung, I can explain."

What felt like an eternity later, the door slammed open and a smaller being stopped inside, the rustling of various paper bags accompanying her every stomp. Cradling the numerous bags in her arms, enough for them to block her line of sight, she reached his bed completely by muscle memory and dropped everything down on the bed, "Okay, next time you send me such a vague message I swear I'll block you" she began to pull out the contents of each bag, "I got medicine, for…everything, muscle, headache, backache, diarrhea and …constipation?" squinting at the small text she tossed the packet back on the bed and turned to see him on the sofa at the opposite end, completely focused on him and anything else in the room as she scurried to him, placing her hand on his sweaty forehead as he stared up at her silent, with eyes as wide as a cat caught at midnight.

"You're burning up- shit." pulling her hand back placed it on his dress shirt, noticing how he was wearing such a formal attire, with an ironed white dress shirt and slacks, "Sannie…do you usually dress like this when you have a fever?" she asked quickly undoing his tie, only for him to grip her wrists in the process, their eyes locked for a moment. She stared at him with confusion, only to finally notice the whirlpool of emotions swimming behind his orbs, an eerie feeling settling in the pit of her stomach, breaking eye contact he glanced sideways as if gesturing for her to look to her side.

If it weren't for how she would be transfixed on him, taking in his every gesture, reading him like her favourite book, morning, noon and night, she would've missed the little quiver of his bottom lip or the way his breathing had turned frantic and uneven. Turning her head to the side her gaze caught the reason of the current position of her boyfriend.

"Hongjoong."

"Y/N."

"How long… have you been…here?"

The man who was sitting cross-legged on the gaming chair shrugged at her before glaring at his bandmate who was now staring at the ground, somewhat afraid to make eye contact with his captain, only for her to step in front of him and block the view.

She stood there in front of him, hand on her hips, "Okay, what do you want?"

"Me?" he pointed at himself before gesturing to their surroundings, "Should I not be asking you the same thing?"

"Hyung it's not her fault- she didn't know- I…this was a surprise." he stood up, standing tall behind her, yet the fear of uncertainty painted all over his face. If Hongjoong wasn't in one of his moods, he would've found the scene to be extremely cute, with a giant man standing behind his best friend like that.

"What's with the table…" finally taking in the room she noticed the petals and the small table with silverware, a plate with a box, "Sannie, did you- wait, I didn't get you anything." she turned around frowning up at him, only for him to gaze down at her, in surprise. This was it, how she'd make it seem like no one else existed in the world but them, even at such a moment, she was more concerned about the lack of gift on her part.

"Excuse Me?! Sannie? " Hongjoong finally broke character, whining as he stood up and pointed at her, "How could you not tell me?!"

Turning her head to glance at him she snorted, "Seems to me you're the bad captain who didn't notice this" gesturing between herself and San, "has been going on for months."

"BAD CAPTAIN?" he yelled, now looking up at San, "You hid this from me too? Why? Do you think I would have disapproved, why would have I disapproved ??"

San nodded in return, not sure if he should confess, not sure if he should read out the list of insecurities and weaknesses that he held within. What if upon hearing the list he'd actually tell them to break it off, or worse, what if she leaves him?

Licking his chapped lips, he slowly nodded at Hongjoong, ready to give his little monologue, but the words caught in his throat when her fingers laced with his, he glanced at her to spot her smiling at him then turning to Hongjoong, "He didn't tell you because I told him not to, because you're a psycho."

"You know what." placing his hands on his hips he frowned at her, "I wouldn't have let my Sannie date you because you're insane!"

"YOU'RE SANNIE?"

"Well." smirking at her he glanced at San who was looking between the two who were arguing, "I did know him before you knew him."

"GET OUT!"

"This is my dorm."

"THIS IS MY BOYFRIEND'S ROOM."

"YOUR BOYFRIEND IS MY CLOSEST FRIEND AND COLLEGUE FIRST."

"I GOT US COUPLE BRACELETS" his interjection brought silence with it before Hongjoong chuckled and shook his head, walking out of the room, not after patting San's arm, leaving the two together.

Hearing the door shut he turned to her, placing his hands on her shoulders he smiled down at her, the same smile that would have her heart doing backflips, with his eyes turning into bright crescents and dimples adorning his cheeks, "Guess I can officially call you my lucky charm now, huh?"

.

"Ew, are you guys gonna do something weird now?"

Letting out a frustrated sigh, he let his hands fall off her waist, not before pecking her forehead. Turning to face the intruder with a fake smile, "Hey, hyung, what brings you here?"

"This one." he stated as a matter of fact, placing down a paper bag, "thought of making you a surprise birthday cake but forgot to get flour."

San chuckled, glancing at her who was whining and complaining, "Hongjoong for once can you not be yourself?"

"You mean be perfect?"

"Will you be staying for dinner hyung?" he stopped the two before they could begin arguing.

"I'd rather not, she'd poison my food." he snorted earning a very loud "I would have." from her, as he waved at them, making sure to lock the main door behind him, shoving the spare key back because pocket.

Alone once again, he smirked down at her, wrapping his arms around her waist, a hand grabbing a handful of her butt, squeezing it, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

In return, however, he received a kick on his shin causing him to bounce back, leaning down to rub the sore spot, "What was that for!?"

"For coming home early and giving that idiot the spare key to our apartment." she huffed walking past him and grabbing the flour, "Now go sit there like a good boy and let me bake for you."

Snorting he stood up straight, stretching his arms over his head to make him look even bigger, "My birthday was in July, you are aware of that right?"

"I know." sighing she cracked an egg, "But you were on tour and… I couldn't be with you, so I thought heck, why not just surprise you now…." grabbing another egg she stared at it, mumbling to herself as she pouted, "Guess I messed it up though…should've gotten everything earlier."

Her little sulk session was interrupted when he gently gripped her chin, turning her head to face him, tilting it up as he smiled down at her. If it weren't for his manly pride, the need of wanting to be tough and strong for her, he would've sobbed in pure joy. Little things like these, these gestures and ideas of hers always made his heart flutter, ever so caring for him, ever so present. He was glad she couldn't see through him, otherwise, she'd see how his heart had melted into a puddle of very gooey feelings, feelings for her.

"You never mess up, love" Leaning closer he brushed his lips over hers, his other hand reaching to grab hers, thumb brushing against the cool metallic bracelet she wore with pride, just like the one he'd wear when he'd feel it was safe enough to pass off as anything hut suspicious- though it never bothered her for she had told him how the thought of knowing both have one is enough for her.

"You're my lucky charm, remember?”

[chxrryhansen]

౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Cherry’s Concepts 2/50

Character; Steve rogers

Kink; Throat fucking

Dialogue; “Look at the mess you made.”

Requested by; Anon

As always, this blog contains 18+ content only, your media consumption is your own responsibility, all dark content will be labled as such. Please read at your own risk.

₊♡₊˚ 🍒・₊✧

Steve’s thick hand gripped your throat securing you against the wall as he forcefully pushed you down onto your knees “Are you going to be a good girl?” You shakily nod your head, you had never been the target of his anger before, the aggressive look in his blues making you regret riling him up earlier that evening.

“Words, angel” he growled, his grip tightening against your throat. “Yes daddy” you mew gently, in complete contrast to his aggressive manor.

You watched as he removed his belt and pants, stripping down into his boxers. His muscles prominently glowing in the faint lighting from your shared bedroom. Using his dominant hand he pulled his cock out of his boxers, his shaft standing thick and proud, desperate to be inside your tight throat.

Precum leaked from his tip, dripping onto your lips as he gripped his cock, jerking himself off in front of your face. Your tongue darted out, tasting his salty goodness. You moaned as the salty tinge swirled around your taste buds.

“Open wide, dirty girl” his tone was rough as you stretched your mouth as wide as you could, flattening your tongue against the bottom of your mouth, drool leaking down your chin.

Your head was fuzzy as he forced his fat cock down your throat, your lips automatically wrapping around him, throat hollowing. “F-fuck.. take this fucking cock you little whore.” he moaned.

His hand moved to the back of your head, gathering your hair in a tight fist as he pushed your head further down his length, your nose now pressed against his pelvis while he bottomed out in your throat.

Your cheeks flushed pink as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, his hips began to frantically snap back and forth as he fucked his cock into your throat. You squirmed as your pussy dripped, your juices leaking onto the floor beneath you.

“S-shit.. look at the mess you made, my bratty girl” he teased as you moaned around his length. “You want daddy to touch your leaky cunt? Shame.” he laughed “You should’ve thought about that earlier but you were too busy being a whore and teasing daddy.” he spat.

“Gonna cum in your throat so deep you’ll be tasting me for weeks.”

He groaned as his grip on your hair tightened, his cock deep in your throat, holding you still around his shaft as his hips spasmed. Thick ropes of cum began to fill your throat, his spend leaking out of your lips and down your chin as you desperately tried to swallow everything he gave you.

“You’re my slut.. only mine.”

[bitethedustfools]

TWST story idea (3)

Warning: Death and mild spoiler alert

Ace, Deuce, and Grim witnessed Yuu's death. It was horrible, traumatizing even. The vision of their death haunted them and played repeatedly in their minds, even as the monster in the dwarf mine was defeated.

They saw the way Yuu slowly succumbed to death from a front-row seat. The pickaxe impaled them in the middle of their chest with a sickening noise, slicing it open and splattering everything that wasn't supposed to be outside.

Yuu screamed as blood gushed out of their mouth continuously, "Kill it! Kill it quickly!"

They were terrified to move. Yuu's eyes slowly lost their light, staring at them.

It was too much; they barely remembered how they defeated the monster. However, they knew they truly defeated it because the monster's ink-like blood covered their uniform and stained their skin.

They returned to NRC with complicated feelings and a bloody magestone in hand.

How else were they going to explain that Yuu was dead? That it was their own fault that led to Yuu's death?

They confessed to the headmaster with a trembling voice filled with regret and sorrow, their eyes puffy with tears as they presented a bloody magestone stained with ink.

Only for Yuu to rush in through the door with an exasperated look.

"Hey! Why did you guys leave me behind?"

"H-huh? What?"

"Why are you here!?"

"Aren't you dead???"

An offended look crossed Yuu's face, "Guys, this isn't funny. After what we've gone through? Are you saying you want me dead?"

They got confused. Yuu is alive? But they just witnessed their death not too long ago, yet Yuu is here and fine? Sure, their uniform is tattered and also bloody…

They bring it up to Yuu, and Yuu scoffs, "What? You guys got so scared you started to hallucinate? As you can see, I'm still alive."

They spend the rest of the day thinking that maybe they did hallucinate; otherwise, it wouldn't explain why Yuu is still here.

They witnessed Yuu's death again when Riddle overblot. Trey was too slow to save Yuu, and Yuu got smashed to a pulp by the rose tree that the monster held. There was nothing left that resembled Yuu, just flesh and bones flattened on the ground with hair sticking out.

The trio screamed in horror, remembering the tragedy that may or may not have happened in the mine dwarf. Cater was taken off guard and went green at the grotesque sight, covering his mouth to stop himself from vomiting. Trey gasped, feeling a lump in his throat. He had locked eyes with Yuu just a few seconds ago and failed to do anything to save them.

When Riddle woke up in a daze, everyone around showed complicated expressions. The trio looked like they wanted to throttle Riddle, their faces full of animosity. Cater looked detached and was now pale. He was also standing still and spacing out, which was unlike him. He looked like he was trying to process something.

And Trey, Trey looked at him like he was disappointed and also regretful. His eyes were rather glassy, and his mouth opened and snapped shut repeatedly, gulping in between as though he couldn't decide what to tell him.

"You overblot, and Yuu… is dead."

It wasn't the greatest news to listen to when he wasn't aware of what he had become and had done. Riddle's face immediately morphed to horror before bawling and mumbling in between sobs about how sorry he was and how he didn't mean to.

"Guys, the headmaster is here!" yelled Yuu while panting from running, Crowley, the headmaster, followed behind them, looking worriedly at his surroundings and the victims.

In an instant, everyone's eyes went round with confusion and shock, as if they had seen a ghost. Then there were shouts, hugs, and other things.

Yuu huffed at their exclamations of seeing Yuu dead again. "Again? You guys need to see a doctor. I'm not sure why the others see me dead as well. I'm clearly alive."

"But, but—you were there!"

"Yeah, and then I went to fetch the headmaster! You guys are seeing things; I'm worried about you. You need to rest or something. It could be your imaginations and fear working together."

Despite their attempts to explain, Yuu merely cast a worried and slightly judgmental look toward them.

Yuu didn't believe them at all, and they began to doubt themselves.

This happened to multiple people. Some even said they saw Yuu fall to death, and when they came to check out, Yuu merely sprained their leg or broke a bone or two. Or when Yuu said theh knew how to fake their death when they got squeezed until their lips turned blue and breathed out their last breath as they went limp. The story of how they saw Yuu dead varied in so many ways.

And just like before, when one confronted Yuu about it, Yuu didn't believe them all, dismissing their sick sense of fun in murdering Yuu and told them to see a doctor, not taking their so-called traumatization of getting exposed to Yuu's death into consideration. They're losing their mind at this. They were not even alone in this, so what could be the reason they keep seeing Yuu's 'death'?

Could this be someone else's unique magic, or a disease that slowly affects Twisted Wonderland? Are they really that sick in the head to the point they imagine this?

It must be; there's no explanation to this mystery.

But the twist is this: Yuu got revived almost immediately, and all wounds will be healed, revealing no scars, and therefore, no evidence.

Yuu is fully aware of this, and they don't want to tell someone. So what did Yuu do when people happened to witness their death? They gaslight them all, and goddamn they nailed it. Sure, the others are spiraling into madness, but hey, Yuu's secret is safe.

Extra spice if they got really sick in the head and attempt to murder yuu just to prove something. Yuu either do like they always do or fake being a dead body until they got disposed of and then go far away just in case.

[jasmines-library]

Oh, Baby.

WHUMPTOBER DAY 21. Prompt: Vehicular accident.

Fandom: supernatural.

Summary: on the way back from a hunt, an out of control car veers into yours sending it hurtling off of the path and into a tree, leaving you trapped. Too far from the hospital, the Winchesters are left with the task of getting your body from the car as they wait for Cas to arrive.

Warnings: car crash, dislocated shoulder, broken bones/ribs, blood.

Word count: 1.4K

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

Dean was driving too fast. His foot was pressed all the way down on the pedal as he let the impala fly down the road. He was drumming along to the rhythm of the music as you and Sam sang. The hunt had been successful and spirits were high. The three of you were looking forward to a hot shower and a warm bed, because the night was cold and an eerie chill hung in the air.

The October chill had cast a fog over the road, which obscured everything further than a few metres ahead, but Baby was nearing Kansas and Dean knew the roads well, so he wasn’t too fussed by the narrow roads.

But what happened next came out of nowhere. Another passing car had skidded off of the road and veered into your lane. It smashed into the left passenger side of Baby, sending her sliding off the path. Your side of the car took the brunt of the impact as it collided with a tree. The motion sent your body sliding roughly into the door with a force that was sure to leave bruises. The glass spiderwebbed and then shattered, raining down hundreds and thousands of tiny glass flakes over your head.

Dean groaned when the car stilled, sitting up abruptly. His chest felt tight where the seat belt had flattened against his ribs, so he fumbled to unclip his seatbelt. As he twisted he caught sight of his brother whose head hung low against his chest. There was glass in his hair and a small cut on his temple.

“Sam.” Dean reached over to shake his brother. “Sammy.”

Sam sat up abruptly but immediately regretted the pull in his side. “What..?”

“Are you ok?” Dean took in the caved in metal, pissed that he would have to rebuild it again.

“Fine.” Sam brushed the glass from his hair as he too surveyed the damage. But his eyes widened and he gripped his brother's arm when he suddenly remembered you in the backseat. “Y/n.”

The two of them manoeuvred their bodies in the small space so that they could face you. Some of the roof had caved in, which made it hard to see, but they managed to make out your unconscious body in the darkness. It was crumpled against the doorframe. Your head rested on the window ledge, hair matted with blood from where it had collided with the frame and scraped against the shards of glass. Your arm hung at a concerning angle, and they were almost 100% sure your shoulder was dislocated, but they couldn’t tell from this angle.

Dean reached over the seat, straining his body but you were too far away for him to reach you, so he tried to call your name. You didn’t move.

Dean cursed and pushed hard on his doors to open it. “See if you can get her door open.”

Sam forced the door open and clambered out of the car as his brother made his way round the crushed bonnet. Half of your door was completely obscured by the tree that had made the car stop spiralling out of control, making it impossible to open the door.

Dean rammed his fist into the side of the car in a fit of rage.

“Fuck! Sam help me move the car.”

The Winchesters shuffled round to the back of the car and began to haul the car away from the tree. It took a great amount of effort and their boots leaving dents in the frosty ground of them to move the impala, but when it finally inched far enough away from the tree and your door was visible, they breathed a sigh of relief. But immediately took it back when they tugged in the misshaped handle and the door didn’t budge.

Then Dean tried to rouse you again, reaching through the window and rousing your body. You whined as all of the pain flooded in at once.

“Sweetheart?”

You twisted your head to glance up at him through droopy eyes. “Dean?”

“It’s us.”

You whimpered as you tried to shift, pinned down by your seatbelt. “Hurts.”

“We know sweetheart. We’re gonna get you out of there. Just hold on for us okay?”

You nodded, but made no noise.

Sam tried the handle again but it was stuck down firmly as if someone had welded the pieces together and then encased them in a layer of concrete just to make sure that they were secure.

He then considered the window. They could pull you out from it but that would run the risk of injuring you further, especially with the shards of glass jutting out from the bottom. It was far from Sam’s first choice, but at the moment it was looking like their only option.

“Give me your jacket.” He reached out a hand to his brother.

“What?” Without his jacket the cold air would bite at Dean’s skin. Sam knew this, but Dean’s jacket was thicker than his and would provide you more protection when they moved you.

“Just give it to me.”

Dean shrugged it off after pocketing his phone and placed it in his brother's hands who then laid it across the bottom of the window and leaned forwards to talk to you.

“Okay Kid I need you to unbuckle your seatbelt. Can you do that for me?”

You fumbled blindly for the buckle, wincing at the tug on your arm and ribs, both of which were already forming dark bruises and were more likely than not broken in some places. You relaxed as the pressure lessened, but without the fabric keeping you in place, your body slumped forwards.

Sam hooked his arm under your shoulders ready to guide you out of the window. “This is gonna hurt sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

When Sam tugged upwards you screamed. Every inch of your body burned as he slid you out of the window. The strain on your shoulder was immense, and the brothers were now certain that it was dislocated.

“Stop.” You begged. “Please.”

Sam’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry but I can’t.”

He pulled you out the last stretch of the window without adding too many cuts to your fragile body, only a few nicks here or there. Dean helped ease you down onto the ground.

“Cas is on his way.” He told his brother, who gave him a brief nod of acknowledgment because his full attention was on you. It was too far to get to the hospital in time.

“We have to pop it back in.” Dean told him, gesturing to your shoulder. “If we leave it like that it’s going to get worse.”

Sam bit his lip. “I know.”

“Please… it hurts” you whimpered. “No more. Please.”

“Just a little bit more and then it’ll stop. I promise.” Sam told you, bracing his hands on your shoulders as Dean leaned you against his chest. You cried into his chest, clinging onto his shirt to hide from the cold.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart.”

“On three.” Sam said. “One. Two-“

He rolled the joint, forcing it back into place before you had time to brace yourself. You cried out sharply, nursing your arm as tears flooded your cheeks.

Shakily he removed his hands.

“All done, y/n. All done.”

Dean rubbed your back gently and cast a worried gaze at his brother who towered above the two of you.

It was fateful waiting for the flutter of wings. Dean held you close to his chest as you shivered. Whether it was from the pain or the cold he didn’t know, but they had to keep forcing you awake when your eyes drifted shut. As Dean held you, Sam made work of trying to salvage anything from the car. He had found a blanket wedged in the backseat and draped it over your shoulders.

At last, Cas finally appeared.

“I am sorry.” He rattled out. “I came as soon as I could.”

“Can you help her?” Sam asked.

He reached out and placed a gentle hand on your forehead from where a blinding light was emitted and then a wave of calm washed over you, soothing all your aches and pains before you fell asleep against Dean’s chest.

“She should be fine now.” Cas instructed “she just needs to rest.”

“Thank you.” Dean pulled your sleeping form and smiled gently into your hair, glad to still have you by his side for a while longer.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 21 ⛤ DAY 23 ->

Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

[jjunieworld]

01. oh “dear diary” ⸝ ˚⋆

↳ half written, half texts. word count: 1.7k

— SOCIOLOGY CLASS, 5:45PM —

class seemed to be going on forever, you felt as you rested your head in your hand.

the teacher was going and on about who knows what now. you glanced at the clock on the wall. it read 5:45pm. the soft clicks taunting you. 15 more minutes and you can finally see your friends.

nobody shared your last hour and a half class with you. none of them minored in sociology. everytime to stepped into class you regretted it instantly.

you slid your phone out from your bag, positioning it behind your laptop.

“remind me to never take another sociology class again,” you typed to the group chat. a few seconds later and your phone buzzed with a reply from yeonjun.

“you say this every time you have the class,” he replied with a laughing emoji.

glancing up to the clock again, you sigh. 5:50pm. you could make it another ten minutes. you tune in to what your teacher is saying and realize he’s talking about some dog his wife got and how now they have to keep it because their children have already become attached to it. you look around the class to see either people half asleep or close to it. the teacher either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind as they’re talking a mile a minute on a rant with their hands flying everywhere.

you slide your phone back into your bag and start to clean up your supplies. by the time you put your last notebook in your bag the bell rings. the class is suddenly alive. you close your laptop, sliding it into your bag and stand up, flinging the bag over your shoulder.

your phone vibrates as you walk down the hallway and you pull it out, telling your friends that you’re on your way to the cafe now. hueningkai and jake text that they already have the table saved.

a voice startles you out of your messages, “honestly, remind me next semester to not take another late class. i'd rather take morning classes and get everything over with.” yunjin complains as she walks up next to you, her hair is a little messy and she has lines on her face that shows she just woke up from a nap. you laugh a little and she looks over to you.

“what?” a smile creeps up on her mouth and you point to her face. she opens her camera on her phone and begins to look at herself, then let’s out a small gasp.

“oh my god!” she flattens her hair and rubs at her face a little, but stops when she realizes that it’s not making the marks go away. she mutters a “whatever” under her breath. she turns to you again.

“so…” she trails off and giggles a little, “anybody compliment you on the outfit?”

you laugh and shake your head, “everyone was too busy sleeping to bother to look at me.” the two of you stop at the elevator to go down to the first floor before yunjin’s face lights up.

“fuck!” she yells. “i forgot to get my textbook!” she turns on her heels and books it down the hallways back to her last class. you shake your head at her, laughing a little.

you move to the side of the elevator, out of the way of all the other students. a couple minutes past and yunjin still isn’t back.

she must’ve gotten into it with her teacher, you think.

“are you waiting for the elevator?” you hear a voice speak.

you look up from the game you were playing on your phone to see none other than the most popular boy in your college. choi soobin, resident golden boy, and the guy who you unfortunately have a crush on like almost every other girl in the school.

you can feel your cheeks heating up. the words to reply to him seem stuck in your throat. his eyes bore into yours and it feels like flowers are blooming in your heart after years of darkness.

“y-yes.. no!” you quickly reply, stuttering and accidentally shouting the last word. you clear your throat hastily. “yes,” you start again, “but i’m waiting on my friend.” where is yunjin, you think.

he nods as if considering your words. you glance up at the LED screen that shows what elevator the floor is on. floor five, and you’re on floor three. and the rickety old thing takes forever to get from floor to floor. they really need to fix it.

it’s quiet for a moment between the two of you. you’re too nervous to get back on your phone, not wanting to seem rude and also wanting to seem attentive if he starts speaking again.

“so… you major in sociology?” soobin speaks. you raise your eyebrows in shock and before you can ask how he knows you take sociology he continues. “your textbook,” he points to your bag where half of the textbook is falling out from you moving too quickly, “sorry, didn’t mean to sound like a creep.” he lets out a small laugh and you swear it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

you adjust the bag on your shoulders and laugh a little. “minor… and it’s okay, i didn’t think you were being creepy.” you mentally smack yourself. did that sound weird to say? did you just ruin your chances to talk to the person you’ve been crushing on since you got to this school?

if soobin thought your reply was weird he didn’t say anything about it. he takes a step towards you and your breath catches in your throat. you hands start to feel sweaty as you tightly grip the straps of your bag.

“i’m actually trying to take a sociology class next semester!” soobin exclaims with a sheepish smile on his face. he runs a hand through his hair and looks down. “how’s the class? i heard mr. lee is kinda intense.”

“it’s not that bad actually…” you trail off. and it isn’t. when mr. lee isn’t going on a tangent, the information you learn is actually really useful. “i wouldn’t take the late class though, he tends to start rambling a lot towards the end of the day.”

soobin nods and thinks your answer over. a smile spreads on his mouth. “i don’t know if this is a weird ask, but do you mind if i get your number?”

your heart completely stops and you struggle to think if you heard his words right. he wants your number? you of all people? this has to be a fever dream.

“…for questions on the sociology subjects?” soobin continues. you try and subtly take a deep breath to get the blood in your body flowing again.

“of course!” you smile softly. he pulls his phone out and scrolls on it for a second before handing it over to you. it’s already on the ‘new contact’ page, empty and ready for you to put your information into it. you take it carefully, trying not to let it show how your hands are shaking. typing in your name and number, quickly checking it over and making sure to only put your name and nothing else, you give a slight nod to yourself and hand the phone back to him.

soobin beams and thanks you. the elevator beeps and then creakily opens. you look around again for yunjin and see no sign of her. you start to curse her in your head before remembering that if she was here you would have to get on the same elevator ride as soobin.

thank you yunjin. i love you and you’re the best and i’ll never doubt your ability to get in trouble again, you think to yourself.

soobin walks in the elevator and turns a little, “coming?” embarrassment shoots through you and you shake your head a little.

“my friend…” you start to say before soobin cuts you off with an “oh yeah! sorry about that! it was nice talking to you, i hope to see you soon.” and as the last word comes out his mouth, the elevator doors shut.

finally you feel like you can breathe again. there’s no way that just happened. absolutely no way. shakily you open the messaging app on your phone and type out a message to your friends, demanding that they all come to the chat this instant.

your phone buzzes as yunjin comes barreling around the corner. “sorry! so sorry!”

as she runs down the hallway she continues, panting and out of breath, “stupid bitch was telling me off for forever for sleeping in class and forgetting my book. as if everyone in that forsaken class wasn’t asleep. that’s a problem with her as a teacher and not me as the student.” her phone is in her hand, open to the group chat.

she doubles over and breathes heavily for a couple seconds before lifting her phone up and shaking it a little. she stands up straight and manages to breath out a “what?!”

“i know!” you say, excited and nervous all at once. you tell yunjin exactly what happened, not leaving out a detail, and telling her your inner thoughts. you can’t help but think about how out of a movie this all feels. the popular and unpopular girl and boy. it almost too on the nose, and you wouldn't have believed it if it hadn’t just happened to you.

the hallways are long deserted and you and yunjin boast each other on the what ifs that could’ve happened as you wait for the elevator to make its way back up to your floor.

“what if when i grabbed his hand to put my number in, he pulled me to him and kissed me!” you squeal. yunjin makes an ‘O’ face and points to you, “that would’ve been so good! and then it’s all like ‘time stopped even though it was only a couple seconds.’” she puts her hands over her heart. “‘and the elevator dings as we go into our happily ever ever!’”

you both giggle as the elevator does ding and you step on to it.

masterlist.

summary: choi soobin has always been the popular kid surrounded by his popular friends. y/n… not so much. one night, soobin and his friends make bet that soobin can’t get y/n to date him in a month. unfortunately for y/n, they’re a hopeless romantic.

A/N: first written chapter! and so the bet begins… how did you feel about the chapter! enjoy!

taglist: @imagineyour-kpopboy @gothgyuu @carengene (if your name is bold it wouldn’t let me tag you!)

— kipo <3

[rainba]

How would Luka feel after finding out Ace nonconned mc 🥲🥲

Depends, really...

After Ace first noncons his darling, he'll be freaking out.

"I- I fucked up... I... I Can't believe I did that! How could I have done such a thing!? Fuck!"

Ace would be sobbing, hyperventilating, and (basically) banging his head against the wall, deeply regretting everything. He lights up a cigarette and tries to get himself to calm down (but ultimately fails to.)

And how would Luka react after finding out Ace nonconned you?

If Luka isn't really close to you, his first instinct would be to get Ace to settle down. In this scenario, Luka doesn't have any reason to sympathize with you, so... The only thing he cares about is getting Ace to go back to normal. Helping Ace get what he wants.

To be honest, Luka would be a horrible enabler. ┐(シ)┌

He would be giving Ace advice on how to get you forgive him... Or at the very least, he would be giving advice on how to "make the best out of a bad situation." ^^;;;;;;;;

However- if Luka is attached to you, he would definitely be upset with Ace.

Gritting his teeth and flattening his ears... "Are you fucking stupid?"

Luka is usually calm and levelheaded, but just in this rare scenario, he'd genuinely lose his temper.

Ace and Luka would end up violently fighting each other, refusing to stop until blood starts spilling...

But once they get all of that out of their systems, they'll actually sit down and start making 'plans' on how to get you to stay with them. ρ(- ω -、)ヾ(￣ω￣; )

Again... "making the best out of a bad situation."

[flowersandbigteeth]

I’m not sure if your requests are still open, but if they are, would you be willing to do something for a faun in heat/a rut doing some sort of courtship ritual for his human mate? I’ll let you decide what he does for this ritual since I know you’ve said before you like more vague asks! (She/her for the human mate if you could?)

This story got a little dark, but is for the true yandere fans and not as sweet as I usually write ^_^ I can't believe I did two blizzard stories in a row without even realizing it until I went to pick the gif

General Plot: You bring home a drunk faun and get a bit more than you bargained for

Faun (Hawk) x female reader

Word Count: 3k

W: vague reference of murder and minor character death, spooky spells, sort of mind control? very yandere behavior sfw

“Hey…you ok?” you asked the Faun, glassy eyed, slouched on the side of the road. You picked up the open flask lying next to him and sniffed, pulling your head back as the stench of strong spirits hit your nose. 

He was handsome, even in his drunken state with pretty auburn hair sticking to his forehead and a sculpted physique. He was rather large for a faun with broad shoulders and thick, powerful legs tipped with hooved feet. Curling gold horns stuck out from his head, tangled with some dead grass. He lolled a bit, before trying to get up, only to slip in the snow and land face first in the slushy mud. 

“You’re going to freeze to death out here,” you said, frowning and glancing down the long empty road that you took to get home. He wasn’t from your village, you’d never seen him before. 

“Gnnnnghhg!” he moaned, rolling over on his back and spitting out mud. 

“Can you walk?” you asked, looking up at the sky, where gray clouds promising more snow accumulated overhead, “there’s a blizzard coming. You’ll die if you sleep here.” 

There was no way you could lift him and you wondered if you should run back to town and get some help from an Orc, but it was already late in the day. The sun was about to go down and everything would freeze soon. You weren’t sure if he would even survive the hour walk back to town. His gold skin was already looking a little blue and you had no way to know how long he’d already been out there.

He groaned again, so you heaved his thick arm over your shoulder and tried to help him up. It took a few tries and a lot of coaxing, but you finally got him on his own two feet. 

“My house isn’t far,” you told him, not that he was really paying attention, focusing on stumbling forward. 

“Ssssmell sssooo gooooo,” he murmured as you arduously helped him put one foot in front of the other, his horns knocking you in the face every time he turned his head. 

You didn’t normally pick up vagrants and take them home with you, but it was the middle of winter and your heart was too soft to let him freeze on the side of the road. You prayed to the goddess he wouldn’t make you regret it. 

After a long, exhausting walk, you let out a relieved sigh when you reached the gate to your little cottage in the woods. It was quaint, built by your late grandfather of carefully cut, interlocking stones, keeping it nice and cozy inside. 

Stuffing him through your rather small front door, you managed to get him on the couch which he promptly flattened with his weight. You sighed at the pile of splinters and fluff underneath him, but turned your attention to lighting your fireplace. Once you had a nice crackling fire going, you found a quilt big enough to almost fit over him and draped it over his prone body. 

He appeared to have fallen asleep, so exhausted you quickly fed yourself with some leftover bread and cuddled up in your oversized chair under another, smaller quilt to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t choke in his sleep. 

–

Hawk woke with a start and blinked at the wooden ceiling above him. The last thing he remembered he was dancing around a bonfire with his friends, drinking and celebrating their rut. There had been pretty maidens all around and music playing, the usual type of celebration for a faun, as well as lots and lots of alcohol. 

He didn’t normally overdo it, but apparently this time he had. The whole point of the celebration was to find a willing mate and he needed to be conscious to do that. He rolled over on his side to find himself in a small, warm home. He wondered if he’d found a mate after all and she’d taken him inside. Soft singing drifted to his ears from another room before you appeared holding a cup of water and some fresh bread. 

“You up?” you asked with a smile, “I was worried you would sleep all day.” 

Hawk blinked at you once, then twice before his own smile appeared on his face. He’d chosen a beautiful mate. He adored your pretty doe eyes looking down at him and the loose hair framing your face. The whole house smelled strongly of your sweet scent mingling with fresh bread. 

He accepted the cup and bread, drinking thirstily and taking a big bite out of the thick, soft slice, smeared with strawberry jam. 

“I’m (Y/N),” you told him, “I found you on the side of the road yesterday…do you remember that?” 

He shook his head, chewing on a large bite. You giggled. 

“That’s not surprising,” you said, “you were pretty drunk. It’s fortunate you could still walk or you might have died.” 

He frowned at you and swallowed heavily. 

“You weren’t at the party?” he asked and to his dismay you shook your head. 

“I don’t know anything about any party,” you explained, “I just found you passed out on the side of the road, like I said.” 

“Oh.” he said flatly. 

That meant he hadn’t found a mate as he’d assumed. You were just a good samaritan. Still, you were quite lovely. More lovely than any of the other women he’d seen at the celebration. 

“Is your husband around?” he asked, nervous to hear your answer. 

At that you laughed. 

“No…” you said slowly, “I don’t have a husband…”

He grinned. That was one obstacle he didn’t have to worry about, at least.  

“Name’s Hawk,” he said, holding out a large hand to you. 

Taking it you couldn’t help but notice how much bigger it was than yours, with long strong fingers. 

“Good to meet you,” you replied cheerfully before glancing outside, “you might want to head home soon if you want to beat the storm. It’s looking pretty bad outside.” 

He followed your eyes to the window where snow was being whipped around in the gradually rising wind. 

“Don’t think I’ll make it home before it hits,” he murmured, considering he didn’t actually have any idea where he was, “can’t I stay here?”

He watched your face fall with concern as you thought about it, but finally, deciding you couldn’t send him out into a blizzard, you nodded. He rewarded you with a handsome smile. 

Shifting on your destroyed couch, Hawk was becoming more and more aware of his rut. His skin was getting feverish and he clenched and unclenched his fists trying to stay his instincts. The longer he was alone with you, the more he was aware of the gnawing ache that was consuming him. 

His eyes drifted over your form, wrapped in a simple cotton dress with fluffy socks. He needed to rut you and mate you, but mating wasn’t as simple as throwing you on your back and having his way with you. There was a ritual to complete, one that would have been done in the company of his fellow fauns if he’d stayed at the party where he should have been. Blood had to be spilled, though usually it was done all together to prevent an unnecessary slaughter. Usually they sacrificed a pig or a sheep, some farm animal that wouldn’t be missed. Here, alone in your cabin with a blizzard outside, there was no apparent sacrifice available. 

His salvation came as a knock on the door. You almost didn’t hear it as the wind whipped outside, rattling the trees, but hurried to the door to see who could possibly be visiting you in these conditions. 

“Hello (Y/N),” your friend Quillon chirped, beaming down at you. 

His face was red and wind burned from the cold. 

“What are you doing here, Quillon?” you gasped, shuffling him in out of the snow, “the weather is terrible! You shouldn’t be out.” 

Before he answered, his eyes immediately shifted to the shirtless faun still sitting on what remained of your couch. 

Following his eyes, you found your cheeks warming. 

“Oh, this is Hawk,” you explained to the fairy, “I found him on the side of the road.” 

Quillon immediately frowned, but turned his attention back to you. 

“I wanted to make sure you were supplied for the blizzard,” he said. 

Hawk almost growled, with every passing second he was growing more attached to you. 

He’s probably trying to get “trapped” here just like me, he thought darkly, his sharp green eyes watching the way Quillon’s smile grew as he took in your little floral dress and plaited hair. He obviously liked you as more than just a friend. Well, that’s just too bad, Hawk thought to himself, she’s mine. 

“I brought more firewood and some food, enough to get you through a few days,” Quillon went on, easing himself into your living room to block Hawk’s view of you. 

“That’s so kind of you,” you beamed, then peeked back outside. You couldn’t see anything past all of the snow that was falling. You quickly shut the door to block out the draft. 

“It looks like you made it here just in time, but I doubt you’ll make it back safely. Why don’t you stay? With my food and yours there should be enough for all three of us,” you said. 

He glanced back at Hawk uncomfortably, before hurrying outside to bring in the supplies he’d brought. 

When everything was inside you made Quillon take off his boots and got him settled on your chair. 

“I should make us some lunch,” you decided, “I bet you both could use a warm meal.” 

Hawk and Quillon feigned good will in tandem, giving you bright smiles until you left the room and their faces dropped. 

“What are you doing here?” Quillon snapped, “why don’t you go back where you came from?” 

Hawk looked smug. 

“(Y/N) brought me here herself. I think she likes me,” he said. 

Quillon snorted. 

“(Y/N) has a warm heart, goddess bless her. I won’t let you take advantage of her kindness. You need to go,” he snarled back. 

“Like you can do anything about it,” Hawk said. 

“I’ll throw you out myself if I have to,” he growled. 

Hawk’s eyes glinted. 

“Maybe we should settle this outside,” he hissed, “I don’t think for a minute you could take me.” 

Quillon was already putting on his boots, prepared for a fight, despite the nasty weather and wind. 

“The faun and I are going to check the barn, sounds like one of the doors is rattling!” he called to you, watching Hawk warily rise to his full height. 

“Be careful!” you shouted back, working on chopping up meat for stew. 

Hawk laughed to himself as he followed Quillon outside. He had probably 70 pounds on him and Quillon wasn’t a small guy. Hawk’s eyes bled to red with murderous intent as they made their way through the wild wind and snow far enough away that you wouldn’t hear the fight. Of course, Hawk didn’t play fair. He didn’t wait for Quillon to square up, attacking him the moment he was out of shouting distance from your house. 

Quillon did shout, but it was muffled by the high wind and trees smacking together, creating a cacophony of sound that acted as the perfect cover. 

The fight ended quickly and in only a few moments, Quillon was motionless in the snow. He dragged his lifeless body into the barn, where he decided to stage the ceremony. Despite the protests of your pigs and goats, all of which could have been perfectly usable sacrifices, he cleared an area in the dirt floor and quickly used Quillon’s blood to draw the sacred sigil on the dirt floor before it got too cold to run freely. First he drew a large circle and then traced the magic symbols that would facilitate the binding. His chest puffed with pride that he’d dispatched his competitor and was going to bind you to him with his very blood. 

When he was happy with it, he carried the rest of your friend into the woods to be covered in snow until spring came months later. The last thing he had to do was drag the cart Quillon had brought with him to carry supplies out of your eyesight. Once you were bound it wouldn’t matter if you saw it, but until then he needed it hidden. It was cold and tough work, cutting through the wind, but the thought of his future plans warmed his heart. 

Brushing snow off of his shoulders he made his way back to your warm, cozy home. 

“Everything okay?” you asked, peeking your head out of the kitchen, “where’s Quillon?” 

He was a shockingly good liar, putting on an absolutely innocent face to answer you. 

“He said he was going to run home for some supplies he forgot while the weather isn’t too bad, looks like the doors of your pig pen are broken,” he said with a small smile, “said he’s afraid the pigs will wander out into the snow and freeze.” 

You frowned because you wouldn’t have felt comfortable traveling in the snow, but maybe Quillon was made from tougher stuff. 

“Broken?” you said, “that’s impossible! Those doors are made from solid oak, my grandfather made them himself.” 

He shrugged. 

“You can come see for yourself if you like,” he said, hiding the wiley smile that wanted to bloom on his face. 

You twisted your lip as you put on your warm coat and some heavy boots, following him through the blinding white snow to your barn. Inside, it was very dark, so you didn’t even notice  when you stepped into the sacred circle he’d crafted on the floor. 

“O woll teki yua hustegi end meki yua my wofi!” you heard Hawk boom into the barn, his loud, deep voice echoing off of the wall. 

Turning around, confused, you suddenly felt hot all over and your skin felt like it was prickling under your jacket. Around you, the circle he’d drawn glowed gold, casting eerie shadows on Hawks face, making him appear totally unhinged with the wide smile that grew across it. 

“Wha-” you started to say, but your words were caught in your throat as you were overcome with a wave of need. Your body needed his. You could feel it in your very bones. 

You stood there frozen, trying to comprehend what was happening, but your consciousness was drifting away, becoming more feral. Your mind was desperately seeking Hawk’s scent and his skin against yours. You crumpled to the ground, the last bits of sense bleeding out of you. 

Hawk chuckled, pleased that his spell had worked. You were his now. You could never love another, you would always be seeking him. Only his scent would smell like home to you, all others would smell rancid. Anyone else’s touch would burn. Another male’s kisses would make you nauseous. It was an ancient secret spell only the fauns knew and guarded very closely. 

You whimpered on the floor forgetting all about the barn door or where Quillon went. From then on you were Hawk’s and his alone. He scooped you up in his large arms and rather obediently you pressed your head into his chest, his scent and touch like a balm for your burning skin. 

“Don’t worry, darling,” he purred at you, knowing you were probably not thinking about anything at all but him. He kissed you on the head, making you mewl, the sensation sending a ripple of pleasure starting from that spot and rippling outward over you. You shuddered in his arms, trying to rub yourself against him, covering yourself in his scent. 

“I’m going to take good care of you, my pretty starling,” he assured you with a smug smile as he carried you through the snow back to now his home where you would start your life with your new mate.