#so when i have these realizations that it is in fact. not just strictly in smutty lil fanfics or on tumblr posts

[party-lemon]

being asexual is, most of the time, like "yeah, okay, this is cool, this part of me is super neat" and then, sometimes, you're among allo people who talk about sex semi-casually (and that's okay!) and you're like "wait that's a real thing that real people do, holy shit??" and you feel severely disconnected from everything and everyone

[osirisdefencesquad]

snippet of Eîr and Vela, as Sanne is being integrated into the clan

Eîr was used to people being uncomfortable around him. This is what he tried to convince himself, at least.

And it was understandable. It really was! Whether they were uncomfortable because of his attunement to the Void, or the Hive mutations, they had reason. ...It never did hurt any less.

"This new one's an interesting find, for sure" Vela informed him as he climbed up to Eîr. Grateful for something to pull him out of his own head, even if it was talking about what put him there, Eîr lept for the conversation.

"Do you know how she's settling?" he asked the other hunter, shifting from the railing to the bed of cushions, accepting the coffee Vela handed him.

"Other than damn near losing her mind every time she comes into contact with someone void attuned?" Vela winced, offering up his scorched right arm for Eîr's observation "well, for where we found her."

"How is Wraith taking that? hasn't he been invested in the new lights recently?"

"Hard, from what I can tell. Kirach has him out on patrols until we give the all clear"

"...which Eva is working on now. do we know why she has such a strong adversion to Void?"

"Nope. Vias is prying at her -she seems more comfortable with other Awoken- but she's barely a month out the grave."

"So something from her past life. Is Zirne still hanging around Osiris?"

"Yep. they've found some new thing to throw themselves at. Saint projects about a week until Osiris takes a break, and I give Zirne 'round four days. She's already low from the strikes."

[yamsfrecklvs]

tits, ass or thighs?

ft. kuroo, iwaizumi, oikawa, bokuto, tsukishima, atsumu, osamu

warnings: i mean... the title speaks for itself i think! implied fem reader ; also not proofread

MDNI!!!

☆ kuroo : tetsuro is a simple man. there isn't a single thing he doesn't like about you. but the man absolutely adores thighs. put on a pair of shorts or a miniskirt and he'll fall to his knees. to be fair, he's a man of taste, so not only does he love thighs, but he's also a sucker for ass. can and will smack it whenever he can, not even in a strictly sexual way, but simply because he likes having his hands on you. ass and thighs will absolutely be used as a pillow, there's no debating it. he will also not so sneakily squeeze your thigh while sitting down or grip it while he’s driving and you’re in the passenger seat. hell, he’d die between your thighs if he could, because let me remind you, this man is an EATER. (just leaving this here)

☆ iwaizumi : i mean, have you seen him? ass. he physically cannot function if he sees you in tight skirts or pants and his hand can always be found in your back pocket if you two are walking together. definitely lightly smacks your butt to celebrate or tell you that you're doing a good job (throwback to him smacking makki's ass bc he scored a point). loves loves looooves to leave marks on it - fingerprints, bites, hickeys, you name it - and he will shamelessly stare at it in public.

☆ oikawa : i think we can all agree on the fact that this man loves tits. seriously. doesn't care if they're big or small, he just loves your chest. he will absolutely use them as pillows and/or slip his hands under your shirt while you're cuddling. loves to see you walk around the house without your bra on, bonus points if you're wearing his clothes. and if there's one thing that makes his knees weak it's seeing tan lines on your chest - one look and he's over the moon. he also probably has a thing for cute lingerie, especially cute bras - or rather, he has a thing for taking said cute lingerie off of you.

☆ bokuto : don't ask him. he genuinely cannot choose, it's physically impossible for him, especially because he's got his hands all over you 99% of the time. probably has a slight preference for ass but he doesn't even realize it. you definitely have his handprints all over your ass because he cannot for the love of god control his strength but he also profusely says sorry if he ever hurts you. either way, wear anything remotely tight or revealing and he's gonna lose his mind.

☆ tsukishima : he will never ever admit it, but tits. he says he doesn’t care and claims to love every part of you equally, but you’ll definitely catch him lacking if you wear anything low cut. of course, he isn’t the type to shamelessly stare at your boobs, we’re talking about kei after all, but you know him, and you can tell his eyes linger on your chest just a little more than usual. and also, they’re the first place he reaches for when cuddling gets a little spicier. probably likes leaving marks on your tits because they’re not as visible as your neck and because he swears that ‘hickeys are stupid’. he still does it nonetheless. again, doesn’t mind if they’re big or small. he just loves them.

☆ atsumu : take a good look at him and tell me this man isn’t a certified boob lover. seriously. bonus points if you have your nips pierced. he just loves boobs. back hug? his hands are finding their way on your chest. cuddling? his face is pressed between your tits. doesn’t give a fuck about looking like an idiot while gawking at them, either. he’s just completely enamoured with them, probably loves to suck on them too. also, i feel like he has a thing for girls with tiny waists, don’t know why. he too loves to spoil you with pretty lingerie and definitely loses his mind whenever he sees a bra strap peeking out of any of your shirts.

☆ osamu : now, hear me out. osamu miya loves to cook. he also loves a woman who EATS. for this reason i’m a firm believer of osamu being a man who loves thighs. loves having his face between them, using them as a pillow, biting into them. he will go insane for thigh highs and absolutely adores when they get bigger as you sit down. there’s nothing this man appreciates more than a pair of pretty legs showing up under a short skirt. he would gladly be crushed by your thighs, but he doesn’t dismiss ass either. generally, i think he likes everything - but thighs, they’re his utter weakness. expect many, many hickeys and marks all over them. and, just like kuroo, i just have the slightest feeling that osamu is a munch - make him suffocate and he’ll die happy.

@yamsfrecklvs

[dustofthedailylife]

It Must Be Love

-> Masterlist || → Taglist

Pairing: Blade, Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, Gepard, Welt x (gn!) Reader

Summary: When they realized they had feelings for you...

Tags: Fluff, SFW, mention of injuries (Blade), just them realizing they're completely smitten

A/N: My last fic before my Japan vacation! I got a lot more in my WIP stash that I'll get to after. Excited to get to that when I'm back, or maybe I can finish one or the other fic in the evening on my vacation when I'm in bed. We'll see. Stay amazing until then! <3

BLADE

When you joined the Stellaron Hunters he shot down your every attempt of trying to get to know him and stayed clear of you. He was curt and only ever spoke with you if it was necessary. In his opinion, there was no need for you two to be acquainted. And it would be for your own good anyway.

It wasn’t until you came back gravely injured from a mission and were passed out for days, that he wouldn’t leave your side.

He sat on the armchair in your room most of the time, and was either sleeping or meditating with his eyes closed. He occasionally switched your bandages and cleaned your wounds while insisting he’d be the only one to do it. After all, he involuntarily had quite the expertise with injuries himself.

And when the day you began to stir awake again finally came, and he heard the quiet plea for water come over your parched lips, he felt a wave of relief wash over him.

He told himself over and over again that he didn’t care about anyone and wouldn’t dare to allow himself to care anymore. In fact, he may have even thought he wasn’t capable of it anymore. But feelings are often beyond one's control or rational explanation. And deep down he had always known that he cared deeply about you. 

He had only steered clear of you because it had been evident to him, that if he allowed himself to care, there would be no going back. Alas, it now was too late for that as well. Yet it did not matter any longer. All he cared about was that you were still alive.

“Never get hurt like this again.” He scolded with a voice seemingly devoid of any emotion, as he lifted a bottle of water to your lips so you could drink. 

But despite the underlying sharp tone in his voice, there was sincere concern in his eyes only a few people ever got to see. And he knew he was no longer able to hide it.

DAN HENG

Himeko brought you along one day and introduced you to the Astral Express Crew as their newest member, a bundle of energy much like March. And everyone seems ecstatic to welcome you aboard. Everyone but Dan Heng. He curtly introduced himself without shaking your outstretched hand, before vanishing back to his room again without another word.

It would be a lie if he said he didn’t find you attractive, but Alas, he couldn’t allow himself to get closer. One more person on the Express only meant there were more people he had to keep secrets from. Besides, you seemed just as lively and energetic as March was, and if he was sure of one thing it’s that one March was already enough. So that was even more reason to steer clear of you for his own peace of mind.

So in turn he tried keeping you at an arm's length. The only problem however was, that you apparently weren’t deterred by his cold demeanor and practically threw yourself at him at every chance you got.

You would often knock on his door to bring him some freshly brewed tea, rummage through the archive or call him quirky nicknames you came up with. He could only roll his eyes at them, but secretly he began to like them and caught himself smiling whenever he thought of them. 

At first, he managed to remain distanced and only spoke to you when it was strictly necessary, but he soon began to warm up more and more. Until he would eventually find himself beginning to crave your presence every day.

And it was when he found himself looking at the empty chair you used to sit on almost every evening now, that he became aware of his feelings for you. The naggings and nicknames that used to bother him, now made his heart beat quicker and a tingly feeling made itself known in his stomach.

The simple image of your smile made the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. The sound of your voice always managed to soothe his nerves. And your absence made him feel incomplete.

It was then he had to admit to himself that there was no longer any point in denying it. He had inevitably fallen for you.

JING YUAN

When there was more administrative work to do on the Luofu due to the recent happenings, Qingzu, who was assisting Jing Yuan with the additional workload, proposed to hire someone else to help as well. To be precise, help with caring for the general’s lion, since it was usually Qingzu’s task. But since she was preoccupied with other matters right now, there was a distinct lack of time.

And that’s when you were hired.

You were tasked to care for Mimi in Qingzu’s stead from hereon out and seemed to immediately get along with the animal quite well, too. It certainly put Jing Yuan’s mind at ease to know that his lion was adequately cared for.

One day, when Jing Yuan returned earlier than usual from his duties he found you peacefully asleep on the sofa, your head comfortably nestled in the fur of the equally asleep lion. But he didn’t dare to disturb your slumber and returned to his desk with a smile on his face since he too felt the weight of sleep oftentimes throughout the day.

Once you awoke you practically jumped up when you saw him sitting at his desk already, ushering a shy “Oh, General. I didn’t expect you to be back home at such a time already. Forgive me.”

He just let out a soft chuckle in reply, assuring you that there was no need to worry and that it actually put his mind at ease that you got along so well with Mimi.

After this, he made a conscious effort to come back home earlier more often. And every time, without fail, he would find you sleeping together with his lion in the afternoon sun. Your peaceful expression and the quiet purr of his lion truly was a sight for sore eyes 

And if his lion loved you, what was he supposed to feel if not the same?

GEPARD

Gepard saw you for the first time when he stopped by his sister's workshop. He caught a quick glimpse of you before you vanished into the side room of the workshop again.

Of course, his sister immediately caught him staring. Because he stood there stunned and only stared holes into the door you vanished through. 

If Serval was good at one thing, it was reading Gepard like a book. And she only needed one look at his face to know exactly what he was thinking. Of course, she took the opportunity to tease him about it with a big grin across her face, much to the embarrassment of Gepard who only cleared his throat and diverted the topic, unable to hide the red blooming across his cheeks.

He soon found out that you were a singer and songwriter and that you and Serval sometimes performed together in a local club. And he found himself venturing there on his off days to watch your show. 

Serval introduced you to him and eventually, you began to become closer. Asking him if he would come to your next gig as well. And of course, he did. In fact, he did so often that he had all your songs memorized down to a T now and often found himself humming them absentmindedly throughout the day. 

And suddenly, as one of his subordinates asked him which song he keeps humming all the time now, he became aware of the feelings he harbored for you.

The warm, prickly feeling within his chest. The way his heartbeat quickened, or the corners of his mouth turned upwards involuntarily whenever he saw you, talked to you, or thought of you.

It was undeniable. He had fallen in love in love with you.

WELT

Welt and you were just colleagues. At least that's what he was trying to convince himself of at first. 

Research and worries about your mission often woke you up at night recently, so you often got up to brew a fresh pot of coffee. And Welt found you sitting in an armchair in the parlor car one night when he, too, got up in the middle of the night because his thoughts had kept him awake.

You offered him a cup of coffee as well before you sat back down. Each just sipped their coffee in silence. You gazed at the stars outside of the window of the Express while he tried to read some book to keep his mind off the thoughts that had kept him awake.

Yet, he found himself unable to concentrate on it and instead stole glances at you while rattling his brain about what he could talk about with you.

Eventually, you were the first one to break the silence. Initiating a conversation about the vastness of the universe and the thing that are yet beyond any human comprehension. Asking questions no man knew an answer to yet. And he was more than happy to indulge in the conversation. 

You ended up talking until the morning hours that night without the conversation ever dying down. He enjoyed the talk you had so much, he found himself thinking about it for weeks after.

Long deep talks over a fresh pot of coffee in the middle of the night should soon become a habit for both of you.

And he came to crave them so much that he even started setting an alarm at night and went to check if you were there again as well. And most of the time you were. 

One night, when he looked at you and saw the light of the stars reflect in your eyes once again, he too had to admit he was looking straight at a star himself.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about HSR or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

[yawnderu]

>Simon doesn't go to clubs, yet he'd do anything for bimbo!reader, even if it's out of his comfort zone. Adding a small dialogue of Simon being painfully brit when drunk from this post because I still giggle about it ejhfehjb

“C'mere, baby.” Your bare feet make contact with the floor as you walk to your boyfriend, who's waiting for you on the couch, a pair of stiletto heels next to him. It's a routine you know too well, putting your feet on his lap before you even realize it while he massages your ankles, offering you a small smile.

“Make sure you don't fall.” He teases and you push him away with your feet, only making him hold them in both hands and push back until your legs are folded, getting up just to steal a kiss from you.

“You rat!” Your giggle rings across the room as you try to push him away again, yet he's too strong to even move until he feels like it, sitting back down and starting to put your heels on, making sure the straps are safely secured before he helps you get up from the couch. He still can't wrap his head around the fact that you walk around in 6-inch stiletto heels with ease, but they were on your wishlist and whatever his princess wants, she gets.

Simon doesn't do clubs. It's loud, it's crowded, and he looks just about ready to take you back home until you strut to him, a big smile on your pretty face as you pass him a third glass of bourbon. He downs it after mouthing a small ''thank you'', feeling the warmth travel down his body.

“Come dance with me, Si!” You have to scream over the music, taking his free hand before he can even think about it. He reluctantly lets you pull him to the dance floor, despite feeling so out of place. He can't resist denying you, not when you look so happy and excited to be here with him.

Your arms wrap around his neck, your body rubbing against as you dance is almost intoxicating. He looks down at you, brown eyes fully taking in the sight— your hair moving with your body as you dance and sing, a happy smile on your face before you take a sip of your pretty drink. You're the most breathtaking thing he's ever seen.

His hand goes down to your waist to support you in case you twist your ankle while wearing your pretty stilettos. He looks down at your lips for a second before his gaze locks on yours, unable to look away. Maybe it's the alcohol affecting his body, but he dares to lean down to capture your lips with his, pulling you closer and allowing your bodies to move together to the rhythm of the music. He pulls away, his hand going up to the middle of your back before he does something really stupid.

“I'm getting us more drinks!” You yell over the music, already walking away before he can stop you. He's used to drinking one or two glasses of bourbon, not four while out in a club, the flashy lights just making him dizzier. He pushes the thoughts to the back of his head, feeling your arms wrap around him from behind, taking the glass from you before you can spill it.

“Thank you.” Simon was never one for PDA, yet he's leaning down to kiss you again, his hand lingering on the small of your back for way longer than it should have. You turn around, sipping on your drink as you grind on him, too used to the clubbing scene to think about how Simon hasn't done anything like this before. Despite his stoic expression, he's actually having plenty of fun, his hand holding onto your waist to support you as you dance.

His attention is focused strictly on you. He loves how you're dancing for him and him alone. You're not dancing like this for other men or flirting with anyone— you're simply having fun with your boyfriend, and despite some of the men looking at you, you're only looking at him.

Simon lasted way longer than he thought, only making you turn around after an hour or so of dancing.

“Tired yet?” He lets your bodies sway to the generic pop song playing in the background, half-lidded eyes struggling to stay open. He drank more than he should— more than he has drank in public, and he's aware of it, yet he wants to bring you home before he's too drunk to be aware of his surroundings. You plant a small kiss on his nose now that he's laying down and he offers you a lazy grin, letting you guide him out of the club.

“Buss me a blem, love.” You raise an eyebrow at his words, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you help him walk, not wanting him to stumble around as you make your way back home. You have the route memorized, unlike him.

“A fag.” He clarifies, making you giggle nervously as you look up at him.

“Why do you want a gay m—” A stifled chuckle comes from above you, looking at the way Simon is trying to hold back his laughter. He's way too drunk for this shit.

“A cigarette, angel.” Realization hits your face as your glossy lips turn into an ''o'' shape, face lighting up when you can finally understand what he's saying.

“Don't have that either. The other one would have been easier to get...” You drag out, fumbling with the keys to your shared apartment before going inside, locking the door behind you. You go sit on the couch and Simon immediately beelines towards you, managing to sit down in front of you and attempt to undo the straps of your heels.

Was the buckle always this tiny? His fingers feel way too fucking big for the strap, yet he somehow manages, softly rubbing your feet to help ease the pain he knows you always feel after wearing them for a long time. His cheek is resting on your lap, your hand instinctively running through his short hair, massaging his scalp with your long acrylics.

“You okay, baby?” God, he could die right now. Your words are slurred, voice becoming even sweeter, your tone laced with concern. He can only manage to nod, trying his best not to fall asleep despite how comfortable your lap is. He can barely register how you get up, dragging him up by the arms— or well, trying. The bastard is way too heavy and tall for it.

“Up.” You say softly, not wanting your boyfriend to fall asleep on the couch. He grumbles before getting up, letting you make him lay down on the couch, making sure he's on his side. He didn't drink enough to throw up, but... just in case.

You disappear into the bathroom, coming up with a wet cloth and a basket full of skincare that you want to use on him. Your drunk brain is absolutely brilliant— wanting to take care of his skin while he's about to fall asleep. You steal a kiss from his lips before running the wet cloth over his face with care, wiping down all the sweat and grease on his skin.

His brown eyes focus on you as you start to massage a cool liquid all over his face, massaging it in circles with the pads of your fingers, careful not to poke him with your long nails.

“I love you.” It slips out of his lips before he can even think about it, looking away from you. You can see his Adam's apple bob up and down, anxiously waiting for something— anything. He flinches in surprise as your arms wrap around him tightly, small giggles of relief and happiness escaping your lips.

“I love you too, Si.”

Bimbo!Reader Masterlist

[luludeluluramblings]

Damian Wayne’s Obsession with Smalltown!Reader

A/N: Strictly Platonic, this ain’t no Game of Thrones.

A/N: I’m over halfway done with Part Six, but I need to fluff it up. Life is just exhausting me right now. I feel like my writing is downgrading despite my efforts. But, I’m assuming that’s just the exhaustion.

A/N: Also, how y’all feel about AI art? I have some images of the Smalltown Folks for visualization purposes, but I’ve been keeping them ambiguous in the story. I plan on giving background information on them, so if y’all wanna see ‘em lemme know.

Warning: Slight Obsession and Yandere Themes

Damian is so similar to his father and Tim in the way he sees Reader, his blood sibling. But, only after he realizes his mistake in pushing them away. He is one of the many that refuse to like reader on principle, yet the one of the quickest to fall into the obsession after the realization hits.

Damian has always thought of himself as the blood-son. Though, he’d grown less fanatical than he once was about it. It became his way of reassuring himself whenever he falls short of being Robin, or he can’t seem to live up to his own high standards. He’s the blood son, he is family. Bruce won’t abandon him. He’s worthy. He has a cemented place here.

His training and time with the League of Assassins caused him develop this need to constantly proof himself. Which still influences his behavior despite the family working to pull him from that unhealthy mindset. It’s still there, buried deep, and the fact that he was Bruce’s only biological child helped him keep that mental state at bay.

Finding out about the existence of Reader made that believe falter. Worse yet, Reader coming to join the family ripped that coping mechanism right out of his hands.

Bruce didn’t even know Damian existed until Thalia just dropped him off, and everything he and Bruce had took effort and time and so much work.

Yet, Reader instantly got it all. With no work, no fight, no blood, no sweat, no choking back tears because god forbid he cries. Reader had Bruce first. Reader had what he fought so desperately for.

That’s what stung. Damian was less concerned about being replaced as Robin, he had earned that title. But, he was concerned about being replaced as Bruce’s child. He no longer felt he had that exclusive connection to Bruce.

Damian can’t help but take it out on Reader. Yes, he has grown a lot of a person since coming to live with Bruce. But, Reader was just so fragile and weak and frustrating. It brought back a lot of old negative feeling he had thought he moved past. It didn’t help that Reader seemed to always be trying to squirm their way into his life. What more did they want to take from him? They’re nothing like him, or Bruce. Or anyone in this family. They don’t belong.

It isn’t until that night in the Kitchen, when they offer food the peace-offering to Damian, that he realizes he may have been wrong. That expression, that cold look, that had appeared on Reader’s face had look startlingly like Batman Bruce.

And, when the stopped attempting to talk to him, to wriggle their way into his life, he could shake the wrongness of it. Of course, his pride told him he had won and, for a while, he felt satisfied.

Until that phone call. Reader was always talking on that damn phone. Clinging to it like a lifeline. A weakness.

Damian overhead the conversation Reader was having with their other half-brother. The gentle reassuring tone. The unconditional love and care. Things he had craved. Things he sees other people have that he’ll never admit he wanted.

At first, he assumed it was a lover they were talking to. That love between family members still being a slightly foreign concept to him. But, when Reader confirmed it was their brother, something in him clicked with realization.

He wanted that. And, worse yet, he could’ve had that. But, Reader was now giving him that blank look. One of a stranger. Their walls had come up. They were no longer allowing Damian access to what they had previously offered him. How dare you withhold it? That affection is mine.

Of course, he’s disappointed. In himself and with Reader. He finally realizes that Reader had just been offering that love to him and he’d stubbornly foolishly refused. It’s not his fault, he didn’t know. It’s not his fault.

But, the thing about blood is that there will always be a connection. He has time. He can break those walls back down and bury himself in Reader’s affection. They already had a place for him anyway. He’ll let them cool off a bit before he tries again. In the end he is just taking what he’s owed.

[saetoru]

Imagine how funny it’s be if it was the “break up with my son” trope with rich boy gojo but instead of break up it’s his mother begging you to stay with him forever because he gets insufferably sad/annoying when you’re not around

[ FINALS WEEK ] GOJO SATORU.

“satoru.”

“please don’t leave me,” his voice is croaked, frail, broken. you roll your eyes—gojo has always had a knack for being the most dramatic person in the room, but you think of all his moments, this one might just take the cake.

“this is ridiculous—”

“please,” he even pretends to sniffle, and for a moment, you almost consider actually leaving him. “i’m nothing without you. empty with no meaning—”

“satoru, it’s just for this week,” you say flatly.

gojo has always been spoiled, and truth be told, you don’t hold yourself to the standards you’d like to be able to say you do in order to break the cycle. but really, it’s not your fault—his pout is rather dangerous, and he’s pretty damn good at whining, and he knows how to bat his lashes just right to get what he wants. this time, however, you’re determined. this time is strictly a no-giving-into-satoru time, and he can shed pretty tears all he wants, but you’re not relenting.

“what if you fall in love with someone else during our one week break up? i won’t make it if you do,” he gasps dramatically. you have to hand it to him—his ability in theatrics is at least persistent, even if quite a bit overdone sometimes.

“i’m sure your house would be peaceful then,” you snort. you can just picture the offended pout on his lips even though he’s not here, and you’re somewhat happy that he can’t see the smile you crack over the phone—that would only add to the drama, and he’s already a handful without the addition.

“baby, don’t do this,” he begs, making you sigh. 

it’s finals week. meaning all the days of class gojo has made you skip in order to coddle him (again, he’s very spoiled) will soon come back to really bite you in the ass while you have to make up for what you missed to pass your exams. meaning no gojo satoru will be allowed anywhere near your vicinity as an added distraction to keep you from studying. you know your boyfriend, and you know him well. you know that i promise i’ll just sit and be quiet will turn into his head resting in your lap, which will turn into pouts for your fingers to play with his hair, which will turn into complaints of boredom, which will all end with forced cuddles and an earful of his blabbering as he steals your attention. 

and you cannot afford a single failed final. 

so, with careful and deliberate consideration, you come up with your solution—which seems to have utterly broken your (painfully) spoiled boyfriend. no staying over the nights for a week is a very hard thing to grasp for rich and spoiled boyfriends who rarely hear the word no, apparently, and gojo is not taking the news lightly.

in fact, he seems to be taking the news a lot harder than you initially anticipated. never did you think a one week ban from sharing a bed with gojo so you can earn your degree would turn into his mother phoning you with a desperate plea to not break up with her son. it takes you by surprise, makes you stare at your phone with a double take to make sure you’re really talking to who you think you’re talking to—and that she’s really said what you think she’s said.

which begs the real question…where did the words break up even come from? and then you realize a certain somebody has exaggerated your rule for the week to something entirely new.

“satoru, you are entirely too much,” you groan, “one week of no sleepovers will not kill you. stop being bratty. and stop telling your mother i broke up with you, liar.”

“you practically are,” he huffs. “you don’t see me all day when you study. now you’re taking away the night too? just say you stopped loving me.” you scoff, and he pauses. “don’t actually say that, though,” he adds quickly.

“some of us have to pass,” you scowl, “i don’t have trust funds to swim in.”

“you can—”

“if you say i can spend your money, you might have to tell your mom we actually broke up.”

“so mean,” he whines, “well, why can’t i just sleep in your bed? i don’t even snore, i wouldn’t bother you,” he protests. he’s stubborn—which sometimes makes your heart flutter (like when he defends your honor to his snobby father) but sometimes (like now, for example) it’s enough to make you wish his lips would sew shut. permanently. 

“because,” you sigh exasperatedly, “you never sleep unless i’m in bed with you, and i’m going to stay up very late. stop being difficult—”

“i promise i’ll be good—”

“you are never good,” you accuse, narrowing your eyes. “and you break this promise every time. no sleepovers for this week until all my finals are over. and no more bothering your mom. got it?”

“but this time for real i’ll be good—”

“no, toru,” you say firmly, a hint of finality in your tone. it’s silent, and you can just imagine him deflating, and a small part of you feels just a little bad. “baby, i promise i’ll try to squeeze in some time every now in then, okay? we’ll meet for lunch or something.” you try to ease his conscience, but it doesn’t do much to persuade his sulkiness. 

“yeah, whatever,” he mumbles under his breath. 

a sulky gojo is a nightmare to deal with—you silently send your prayers to his mother for the next week, and you almost consider saving up for a fancy gift to offer her as an apology. but you also feel just a little bad for your sweet (though annoying) boyfriend. it’s at least the slightest bit endearing that he enjoys your company as much as he does, and you’d be lying if you say you don’t enjoy it just as much. 

so you relent—not fully though, you reason. “you can stay only the night,” you mutter, huffing as you hear his breath hitch with excitement, “and you have to stay in the living room until i’m ready to sleep.”

“i’ll tell my mom we’re back together,” he grins.

“we were never broken up!” you hiss as you pinch your nose, but before you can help yourself, there’s a light giggle that spills past your lips.

“she’ll be thrilled,” he chuckles, making you roll your eyes fondly. 

“cause it means you’ll leave the house to see me.”

“true,” he laughs this time, soft and sweet and enough to make you think spending nights with gojo this week isn’t the worst thing to happen. “i love you.”

“i know.”

“say it back—”

“okay bye. i have to study,” you grin as you cut him off, hanging up the line with a snicker.

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

[changbunnies]

Lowkey, I Need You (To Move Out) 18+

♡ Pairing: Changbin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: friends with benefits, friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, angst, fluff, smut with plot, mutual pining but especially lots of pining from binnie

♡ Word Count: 12k

♡ Summary: Changbin has a problem– he’s in love with his friend with benefits. And not only is he in love with her, but she’s also his roommate. Torn on what to do, the only thing he knows for certain is that something has to change soon– but is he even brave enough to spark that change, and risk their friendship?

♡ Warnings: miscommunication, but it's resolved quickly!, bin is lil insecure but we're here to make it better !!, gets a bit emotional because truly this is a love letter to changbin and how much i adore him

♡ Smut Warnings: multiple smut scenes, switch!bin with a heavy sub lean, as usual changbin is an extremely soft and perfect lover, pet names (baby, bun, bunny, honey, sweet + good boy), oral (m + f rec), fingering (f rec), nipple play, begging, a tiny bit of edging, spit as lube, cock warming, unprotected piv, creampie, praise kink, body worship, face sitting

♡ Notes: this was written in response to the topic of binnie being excluded, because as a bin biased girlie it's my job to show out for him when he needs the extra love! i've been wanting to write a fwb for SO long and in true changbunnies fashion this turned out longer than i intended it to be but i just had so much fun writing it and giving binnie the attention he deserves, so i hope you enjoy it too !!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

What do you do when you realize you've fallen in love with your friend with benefits? And what do you do when said friend is also your roommate? The conclusion that Changbin has reached is simple: spiral.

Well, not that spiraling is an actual choice in this scenario– he can't stop it from happening despite how desperately he wants to. He knows you aren't looking for a relationship right now, that you like what you have together because it's casual and fun.

You swore off dating apps and relationships after having your heart broken one too many times, and the only reason you're friends with benefits with Changbin is because you trust him– a trust that he is loath to break by dropping the revelation that he's fallen in love with you.

You were away from your shared apartment for the past week and a half, on a trip back to your home town to visit family. It was exhausting, but fun enough when your parents weren't driving you up the wall by pestering you with questions about when you're going to start bringing a boyfriend back home with you, you told Changbin on the phone last night whilst packing to come back to the city.

He hated the way his heart sank to the pit of his stomach when he considered the fact that he'll never be the boyfriend going home with you to meet your family. And he wants to be, fucking hell, does he want to be yours.

He wants to tell you he loves you and have it mean something more than the platonic love between friends, to take you on dates and freely hold your hand when walking through the city streets together, to share a bed with you for more than just a fuck.

How many times has he wanted to pull you back to him when you start to get up from his bed? To reach out and beg you to stay when you start to get dressed? To knock on your door late at night and lay everything out on the line because the way it keeps him up at night is becoming unbearable?

Fuck, he can't keep dwelling on it– you've been on your way home since this morning, and you're due back any minute now. It'll be disastrous for Changbin if you walk through the door and realize something's off with him.

His heart twisted when he checked his phone and saw a new text, one excitedly telling him you're almost home and that you've missed him– but was it really him you missed, or just fucking him? He didn't know anymore, and he was afraid to find out.

Changbin jumps when he hears the lock to the front door click, taking a breath to calm his racing heart as he rises to his feet to help you with your luggage and welcome you back home. 

He’s spent enough time spiraling over what to do this past week, he can’t afford to anymore; not if he wants to keep his sanity intact, anyways. He can do this– once you get settled, he can have a heart to heart with you, and everything will be fine. Even if it’s too much to confess his feelings, surely there’s a way to go about things where you’re both still happy, right?

Changbin did a lot around the apartment to make it perfect for you upon your return– cleaned and dusted every common room until they were spotless, made sure not a single dirty dish was left in the sink, emptied every trash can.. He even unclogged the drains and scrubbed the tub! He just wanted to make sure you didn’t have a single thing to do, that you could just relax and unwind in clean comfort after your trip. 

But you don’t spare a single glance around the apartment once you enter– you look just at him, smiling as you kick the door closed behind you, and drop your luggage to the floor to squeeze him into a hug. 

He blinks a moment in surprise at how quick the action is– he didn’t even have the chance to get a word out before you were on him. Still, he quickly returns the hug while trying his best to prevent the happy, almost relieved sigh you let out as you bury your head into his chest from giving him false hope.

“You really missed me this much?” Changbin asks with a small giggle– why is he even asking? So much for not giving himself false hope. He just blurted it out without thinking, really; but he can’t pretend the way you affirm it doesn’t make his heart swell. 

It was the longest you’d ever been apart from Changbin since moving in together, and it put a lot of things into perspective. Like, you really did miss him, of course you did, he’s your friend! But there was something more– you don’t think you’d ever missed someone so fucking badly before. 

Like, staying up all night because you can’t stop thinking about him type of ‘I miss you.’ Wanting to text him or call him at all hours of the day just to check up on him and ask what he’s been up to even though you’re supposed to be focusing on your family and reuniting with childhood friends.

You missed everything about him– his smile and cute laugh, the way he smells, his big arms wrapped around you and squeezing you close. You wanted to hear his voice again, and not through the grainy speaker of your phone, wanted to see him without your parent’s shitty old wifi connection lagging your call, and making him pixelated and blurry.

Changbin is your home, you realized; wherever he is is where you want to be. As long as he’s there, you’d have everything you need to be happy. Is that too sentimental of a feeling for just friends?

Yes, you know it is– and every time you felt it for him before, you shoved it down as deep you could, not ready to get your heart broken again just yet. Better to hold onto him for as long as you can, before he cuts things off to start dating again.

But of course, you can’t deny you also missed him in other, less than innocent ways. The squeak he lets out when you surprise him with a kiss, the cute way he blushes and giggles when you compliment him or call him his favorite pet name, the way he’ll easily drop to his knees for you the moment you tell him you need him. 

He never cares what he’s in the middle of or what he needs to get done– if you tell him you want him, he’s ready for you, eager to please. Even if he loses sleep, if it makes him late for work, if it means the food on the stove is going to burn– none of it matters if you need his tongue on you. And you’ll reward him, you always do; with sweet words and touches that makes his heart feel like it’s going to beat out of his chest while his cock throbs.

“Missed you more than you know,” you say in a near whisper, pressing your lips to his like you’ve been eager to do since walking through the door. Changbin practically melts when you kiss him, as always; he just can’t help it– he’s forever going to be putty in your hands. 

Was he right in his fear that you only missed him for the sex? Maybe, but he can’t even dwell on the idea anymore– not when the urgency in which you start touching him underneath his shirt while sliding your tongue in his mouth makes him weak at the knees.

Fuck it, maybe that is all you want him for these days, but he’d never stop giving you what you want. Use him over and over, run his heart into the ground when it’s done, what does it matter? At least in this moment he’s yours, even if it’s only temporary. 

You grab Changbin by the waist and turn him around, pressing his back against the front door to the apartment. One of his feet very nearly gets caught up on your luggage on one of his steps back, but you kick it to the side, away from the two of you. His sound of surprise is muffled by your mouth on his, as is his gasp when your hands travel up to squeeze his pecs.

You can feel his body shudder when your thumbs brush over his nipples, letting out a whine when you pinch them between your fingers. He’s breathless by the time you pull away, watching you with that eager look in his eyes that makes you crazy for him. “B-Baby, what are you-” he tries to ask as you fall to your knees, though the last word dies in his throat when you look back up at him with a smile. 

He still remembers the first time he slipped up and called you “baby.” You were on top of him, riding him so good that all he could do was babble on and on about how good it felt while gripping the bed sheets beneath him. “S-So good, oh my god, baby, it’s– you’re so good, feels so good,” he whimpered, whining loudly when you stopped moving to just look at him.

Changbin was going to ask why you stopped, beg you to please, please keep going, but then it hit him all at once– he called you ‘baby’ when it was never something either of you had done before. And instantly, he looked up at you utterly mortified with himself, ready to apologize over and over again for crossing the line in your friends with benefits relationship.

While the arrangement didn’t come with strict rules, such as no kissing for example, he still was concerned that it was a touch too far in the ‘romantic relationship’ direction. But to his surprise, and relief, you smiled at him, calling him sweet names in return after picking your pace back up. You continued to try out names, gauging his reaction carefully until you found the one that seemed to make him react the most.

And now here you are, looking up at him with his cock pulled out of his sweatpants and throbbing in your hands, calling him the name that turns his brain and body to jelly. “Want to show you how badly I missed you, bunny,” you told him before pressing a lingering kiss to his already leaking tip, his pre-cum smearing over your lips.

Thank fucking God you pressed him against the door, because if he didn’t have the support he’s pretty sure his legs would’ve given out. It’s not often that you’re the one on your knees for him, and the sight is so erotic it makes his brain feel like it’s going to melt out of his ears– not to mention the way you’re talking to him on top of it.

“So hard and leaky already,” you comment gleefully, sticking out your tongue to lick over his tip, “you missed me too, didn’t you, bun?” 

“Y-Yeah, missed you, I missed you so much,” Changbin replies breathlessly, struggling to keep his hips still and not rut against your hands. He bites his lip, restraining the whimpers that threaten to endlessly spill when you open your mouth to take him in.

You don’t waste any time getting the corners of your mouth used to the stretch, or for Changbin to get used to the feeling after having gone without it for so long; you take him all at once, until his tip is touching the back of your throat and your nose is pressed against his pelvis. 

His head falls back against the door as he squeezes his eyes shut, slapping his hand over his mouth to muffle the obscenely loud moan you draw out of him. Normally he pays no mind to his volume because he knows you prefer him loud, but he’d be beyond embarrassed if any neighbors walking the hall heard him just on the other side of the door. 

You swallow around his length, and it takes effort to not gag given how thick and heavy he is, but you manage just fine. Breathing through your nose, you stroke his cock with your tongue whenever you need to give your throat a tiny break, sometimes pulling back to take a bigger breath and let more air into your lungs before sucking him into your mouth again. 

Changbin cards his fingers through your hair, but doesn’t pull– just holds your head in an effort to ground himself. His thighs are trembling, and he’s seemingly given up on trying to be quiet, or is simply too far gone to care anymore, the hand he was using to cover his mouth now clenched into a fist at his side.

“W-Wait, wait, baby, please wait, don’t wanna cum yet,” he pleads as his stomach clenches, the twitching and throbbing of his cock growing more in intensity. He’s lifted his head from the door, looking down at you now and meeting your gaze as you blatantly ignore his request and continue to swallow him down your throat.

“Please, please, your pussy– want your pussy, honey, please,” he tries again, chest heaving as he begs, the fingers threaded through your hair now clenching into a fist as well, but still, he doesn’t pull you off him. That’s one of the things you like most about Changbin– he’s so strong that it’d be easy for him to make you do whatever he wants, but he doesn’t. 

Even now, as desperate as he is to be inside your pussy, he’s obedient, first and foremost. How can you resist giving him what he wants when he’s so sweet, perfect and well behaved? You pull off him with a loud ‘pop,’ watching the way his cock throbs pathetically against his stomach as his impending orgasm begins to ebb away.

You expect him to take a longer moment to recover, but even with how breathless he is, he’s leaning down to pick you up from the floor. You can’t help but let out a squeal as you’re lifted from the ground– you know very well that Changbin is strong, but it always surprises you how effortlessly he can lift your weight. Excites you too, if you’re being completely honest. 

He has you in a full princess carry, one arm supporting your back while the other is under your knees. You know he won’t drop you, but you wrap your arms around his neck anyway for the extra security. He shows his appreciation for you with so many kisses over your face that you can’t help but giggle, and he holds you tighter when his kisses cause you to squirm in his grasp.

“Don’t tickle me with kisses when I can’t escape you,” you half-heartedly complain, and he giggles with you, pressing one more to your nose before he starts walking away from the front door. “We’re going to your room,” he informs you, figuring that’s where you’d prefer to me after having been away from home. 

Your luggage lies forgotten on the floor as he makes his way past the open kitchen and living room, and into the hallway leading to your rooms. Standing in front of your door, you lean in his grasp to twist the door knob, and he gently nudges the door open further with his foot. Your bedroom is just how you left it a week and a half ago, and Changbin sets you down on your bed carefully.

“Are you going to undress yourself for me?” you ask with an expectant tilt of your head, and he blushes ever so slightly as he shyly giggles and nods. It never fails to make him a little shy when you watch him undress like this, but he also takes pride in the way you look at him. Hungry, but somehow still tender and sweet. 

He starts with his sweatpants and underwear, considering his cock is still out from when you pulled them down just enough to get it out. Kicking his feet out once they’ve fallen to the floor, his shirt is next, and he very quickly pulls it up and over his head. “My baby,” you coo at him after beckoning him closer, and it makes his head spin. 

It’s the first time you’ve used a possessive term with him. Your baby.. Yes, whether you know it or not, he’s yours. Only yours. 

“You’re so handsome, you know that?” you continue, smiling when the pink on his flushed cheeks deepens, “And sexy, and adorable, and lovable.” You love complimenting him– even before you were friends with benefits, you’d tell him sweet things whenever you could. It took him a long time to grow into himself and get comfortable and confident in his own skin, and he deserves the pride and joy he feels now. 

Lovable is a new one, and he tries not to let it root itself inside his head– you certainly do love him, but just as a friend, he knows it. You’ve always been sweet to him, and he’s certain that your doting on him and sweet gestures increased only because of the slight change in your relationship, and no other reason. 

Regardless, does the reason matter? You’re complimenting him earnestly, and that’s enough. Even if it’s said without romantic intent, you do mean it– and that’s all he needs, really.

“Help me out with my own clothes now, won’t you, sweet boy?” you ask, and he gives you an excited nod that makes you giggle again. You lift your back off the bed so he can help you with your top and bra, then lift your legs so he can help you out of your pants and underwear when you let your back fall against the bed again. 

He kisses you the entire time he’s getting you out of your clothes, only breaking away when he has to. “Gonna get you ready for me,” he breathes out near the shell of your ear before planting a kiss there, and then trailing them down your neck. He slides his hand between your legs as he does, and you spread them apart for him to make his task easier for him. 

You both know you can handle the sting from his cock stretching you out, sometimes you even crave it– but you can never deny his desire to be sweet to you. If he wants to stretch you out on his fingers first, you’ll let him do it every time. 

“Oh, honey, you’re so wet,” he gasps as he runs his fingers between your folds. It shouldn’t be much of a surprise, really– you always get soaking wet when you and Changbin are being intimate. Still, it always surprises him as much as it did your first time together; he supposes there’s a part of him that still can’t believe you’re this physically attracted to him, even with how much you shower him with compliments. 

Of course, if you knew he had that thought, you’d shower him with even more of them, until there wasn’t a single doubt left in his mind. He’s perfect, truly; there’ll never be anyone who can compare to Changbin.

You don’t need him to start slow or careful, but he does regardless, starting by pressing just one of his fingers to your hole before sliding it inside. He knows you can take more at once, would even enjoy the sting that would follow, but he wants to be good to you! When you’re full of him, so thick that you’re full to the point it’s almost too much, he wants it to be pure bliss. 

Changbin pumps his finger in and out of you slowly, waiting until he’s certain you’re about to start whining for more before adding a second, and after just a little more he’s adding a third. He keeps his fingers still for just a moment, making sure you’re well adjusted before he starts to thrust them in and out in the way he knows you love.

And God, even though it’s you that’s getting fucked right now, he feels like he’s going a little crazy. He’s so addicted to the noises you make, the way your breathing starts to hitch and turn more shallow, how your eyes roll back when he hits that gummy spot inside you. You’re so fucking slick, and squeezing his fingers so tight that he can barely even think straight– not that he was entirely to begin with. 

Is it just because it’s been over a week since the last time you were together? He never thought himself so insatiable or easily worked up, but fuck, you just unlock something in him. He’s had sex plenty of times before you started sleeping together, had plenty of fun experiences with different partners, but only you make me feel so.. needy.

“Binnie, baby, want your cock now, give it to me, please,” you whine, voice impossibly pretty and breathless. “Ah but– are you sure, baby? Don’t want me to make you cum first?” he asks as he slows down the motion of his fingers. 

“We’ve both waited long enough, haven’t we?” you ask, rhetorical; it’s much more a statement than a question. You look at his cock, still leaking steadily and impossibly hard, and then look back to Changbin’s face. “Let’s cum together. That’s what I want,” you tell him, and you can’t help but notice the way his cock twitches from your words in your peripheral. 

Of course, he can’t resist doing whatever you want– especially not when there’s a promise to cum together at the end. So he slips his fingers out of you, and before he can even ask what you’d like him to do, you’re putting your hands on his shoulders and guiding him to his back. 

He falls to his back easily, swallowing as he watches you crawl on top of him. You’ve done it countless times at this point, but it never stops being sexy and exciting to watch. Your hands planted firmly on his chest, and your legs straddling his body, you move your hips back and forth, rubbing your pussy up and down his length to get it wet. 

His tip rubbing against your clit feels so fucking good too, but that’s not why you’re doing this; so you quickly move on before you get carried away and end up grinding on him until you cum. Reaching your hand between your bodies, you grab his cock at the base and angle it where you need it. 

Changbin watches with eager eyes and bated breath, his hands holding your hips for extra support. Even when you start to slowly sink down on him, and you’re both gasping and breathless from the pleasure, he’s careful to not squeeze you too hard. He’s always so tender and careful, even when doesn’t need to be, and you love him for it. 

And true to what he hoped, there’s no sting when you’re fully sat on him, the stretch nothing but pleasurable for you. Because of this, it also means you don’t have to start slow– and so within just a few short moments, you’re bouncing on him rapidly, leaning down to kiss him as you do. 

He has long since stopped being embarrassed about the noises you draw out of him, whimpering and moaning freely as the pleasure seeps into every pore of his body. Your tongue once again slips its way into his mouth, and he meets it eagerly with his own, happy to slide it around yours. 

Bouncing on his cock, and kissing him like this, he can’t help but be reminded of the very first time you slept together. You had just freshly agreed to the friends with benefits arrangement, both of you lonely and in need of some intimacy, but being done with relationships for the time for your own reasons. 

You took the lead, and it was the first time anyone ever had– he was so used to being the macho man in charge for his lovers, that he found it interesting and exciting that you wanted to be the one in control. You told him what to do, how to do it, praised him and guided him along, had him lay down while you crawled on top and did all the work for him after you were ready to take his cock.

And to his surprise, he instantly liked it– loved it, even. He never considered before then letting someone else have the leading role in bed, but after you started, it just felt natural. And when you leaned down and kissed him in that moment, when everything was so different for him and exciting, it felt like everything shifted, like the entire world titled on its axis. 

Maybe he’s been in love with you since then, but only fully realized what he felt recently. Maybe he’s been in love since even further before, but didn’t have the tools then to put that feeling together, because the line between friend and lover can sometimes be blurry. Maybe he’s been a fool this entire time, and continues to be one now– because he knows what he feels now for certain, but is still too scared to admit it to you. 

He’s thankful that your tongue in his mouth prevents him from speaking– because he’s certain if it wasn’t, he’d end up saying something he shouldn’t. It doesn’t stop him from having the thoughts internally, however.

“You’re so perfect, I love you, I love you so much, I need you, need you to need me, love you,” his brain is screaming as his orgasm approaches once more. The noises leaving him growing more in volume and desperation is enough of a warning for you on its own that he’s close, but you can feel him throbbing too, eager for release after how close he was to cumming earlier.

You reach your hand between your bodies once more, this time to rub your clit with your fingers. It makes your pace falter a bit, but Changbin is more than used to helping you in the last stretch like this. He helps you keep your pace with his hands, and thrusts up into you in time with the fall of your hips onto his.

“C-Cumming, oh, bunny, you’re making me cum,” you whimper, biting your lip and furrowing your brow as the circles you draw on your clit grow messy. You gasp when your orgasm hits you, your breath catching in your throat as your mouth hangs open in a silent cry. Changbin was already close, and the way you squeeze around him as you cum unravels him too. 

His cum shoots inside you, hot and sticky, his entire body trembling as he whimpers and whines beneath you. He’s not sure when he closed his eyes, but when he opens them he sees you looking down at him with such a beautiful smile that he truly feels like he died and went to heaven– because fuck, you’re an angel. 

Changbin reaches a hand up, tucks your messy, fallen strands of hair behind your ears, smiling when you coo and call him a “sweet boy,” again. You let your body fall against his chest, resting your head in the crook of his neck as you close your eyes and let out a content sigh. “Baby?” he questions, giggling a little when you mumble about being tired against his skin. 

“We have to get you cleaned up,” he reminds you, though the way he strokes your back surely doesn’t give you any motivation to get off him. “And you need to go to the bathroom before you fall asleep!” he adds, and you hum an acknowledgment, but still make no effort to crawl off him. Instead, your body relaxes even further, and soon enough you’re not even responding to him talking to you anymore.

You’ve fallen asleep much quicker than Changbin would’ve ever expected; he’s sure you’re tired from the days you spent away and the trip back home, and the fact that you fucked him immediately upon getting home likely didn’t do you any favors in keeping the fatigue at bay.

But he’s still here in your bed, beneath you, your body warm and soft and entirely limp as serene snores leave you. He’s not sure if he should try to wiggle his way out from under you, or just stay like this and sleep together. He knows what he wants to do, but.. he’s never spent an entire night in your room, nor have you done so in his.

And all he can think about while he looks up at your ceiling with you in his arms is how much he loves you but can’t tell you.

Fuck. What does he do now?

It’s been days since Changbin has had the chance to speak with you, but whether or not that’s entirely a good thing remains to be seen– because even with the distance to sort himself out, his mind remains addled and plagued by the desire to be with you as a lover. 

Thankfully, you haven’t noticed anything off with him– mostly because the distance since arriving back home was due to your own need to catch up on sleep, unpack your belongings, and get ready to go back to work and resume life as usual. Whenever you’re not sleeping, you’re busy, and that works for Changbin– or it was supposed to, anyways.

All he’s done the last few days is get back into his spiral. Confess his feelings or not, risk your friendship or keep everything to himself, move out before he loses his mind or stay until the day you decide you’re done.. He wishes there was a simple, easy answer. More than that, he wishes he could guarantee that you’d stay with him if he laid his feelings bare for you.

And he misses you. You’re only a room away across the hall, but he misses you. And he doesn’t fucking know what to do with himself anymore. He’s been trying to sleep for hours now, but all he can do is toss and turn and think about you, how bad he needs you– not just emotionally, but physically too. Because the moment he started thinking about you, it was only a matter of time before he began to reminisce about the sex you’ve had. 

Is his brain fucking against him, or what? As if it wasn’t bad enough he was in a spiral over the possibility of you rejecting his feelings, now he can’t stop thinking about how pretty you looked after your shower this morning. He only saw you in passing, as he had to head out for work and you had to get back to catching up on the work emails that piled up in your inbox while you were away, but God..

If it wasn’t for the fact that you really needed to get your work done before going back to the office when the weekend’s over, he would’ve dropped to his knees right there in the middle of the hallway and eaten you out until you were begging him to stop (or forcing him to by pulling his hair.) He wouldn’t even have cared about his own job– Chan would forgive him, he always did.

And truly, this is agony. Worse than agony, it’s torture. He needs to go take a cold shower and calm the fuck down so he can start thinking rationally again– as rationally as he can manage to in his lovesick state, anyways. With a heavy sigh, he throws his blankets off himself and reaches for his glasses on his nightstand. After putting them on, he rises from his bed, hoping the shower will be enough of a reset to let him get some sleep.

Opening his door, he’s surprised to see you’re awake. Well, he can’t see you just yet from the hallway, but he can see that the lamp in the living room is turned on, and can faintly hear the tv playing lofi focus music. And even though he probably shouldn’t, he can’t resist walking over to check in on you. 

He can hear you typing away on your laptop as he gets closer, and you look away from the screen and turn your head in his direction when you hear his footsteps over the softly playing music. “Oh, Binnie!” you smile at him, and it’s so genuine it makes his heart flutter. He’s so fucking screwed. “Couldn’t sleep?” you ask him, taking a small break from responding to emails to give him your attention.

“O-Oh, yeah, well I was trying to sleep, but..” he trails off when he sees you glancing down his body, to the painfully obvious erection straining against his shorts. “Had a problem?” you finish for him, and his face instantly flushes red. It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve caught him with an erection, but it always makes him feel so perverted when it happens this way. 

“I can help you,” you offer, shooting him that pretty smirk that always turns him into jello. Fuck, you’re a siren, and he’s helpless to resist you. But still, aren’t you busy? As much as he’s willing to fuck up his own work performance for you, he’d feel terrible if his neediness made your own work harder for you. 

“I-I was going to shower and take care of it myself, but I saw you were awake and I just wanted to see what you were doing and.. Anyways, you don’t have to! Seriously, I know you’re busy! It’s okay, I don’t-” he babbles, and you giggle at him. He’s just so cute, especially when he’s trying his best to be considerate to you. 

“C’mere. I can’t help you right this minute but good boys like you know how to be patient, right? You can sit pretty here until I’m done with my emails?” you ask, patting the spot next to you on the sofa. Shit, you always know just what to say to him. 

He listens to your siren song, coming to where you beckon him to sit like the obedient boy you know him to be. “Take your cock out for me, baby,” you instruct, and again he listens, not a single ounce of hesitance as he slides his shorts down enough for his erection to spring free. He watches as you set your laptop on the coffee table and stand up, curious as to what you’re doing.

Changbin gulps when you slide your own shorts down your legs, as well as your panties, and fuck, he’s excited, but more than that he’s confused. He thought you told him he’d have to wait until you were done with your emails.. So why are you undressing already..? 

Maybe this is to keep him hard and eager– make him sit there with a view of your bare pussy so that by the time you’re done, he’s desperate and begging for you. Maybe you want to test the limits of your “good boy,” see how riled up you can make him while you work until he snaps and bends you over the sofa, taking you as he pleases. 

You stand in front of him with your back facing him, and though it’s a bit awkward and challenging, you reach behind and take his cock into your hand. “Spit on it, get it wet for me,” you tell him, and though his mind is still reeling from the unexpected development, he does as you ask. 

You spread his saliva around his length as best you can with your fingers, and when you’re content, you carefully press his cock to your hole. It takes you a second to get the angle right thanks to the position, but once you’ve got it, you slowly start to sink down. Changbin gasps and whines, bewildered by what’s happening right now. “B-Baby, I- what- what are you doing? I thought- I don’t-” 

“You’re still going to wait,” you tell him after you’ve fully sat in his lap, doing your best to keep your voice steady and firm despite how deliciously his cock is stretching out. “Be good for me, and stay still ‘til I’m done, okay? And then I’ll take care of you,” you tell him, and again he whines as he watches you lift your laptop from the coffee table and set it back in your lap. 

It’s a little awkward to type like this, but you think the fun that’ll result from it is worth it. Changbin eagerly nods his head, but then he remembers that you can’t see him in this position, so he speaks the best he can. “Y-Yes, I’ll be good for you,” he says with a shaky breath, biting his lip when you squirm ever so slightly to get more comfortable.

You lean back into him, his chest pressing against your back, his face close enough to your neck and shoulder that you can feel his labored breaths tickling your skin. He hears a click on your touchpad, opening a new email he assumes, followed shortly by the sound of keys resuming as you respond to it. 

Why is this so fucking hot? His dick is fully pressed inside you, and you’re not even paying attention to him– just continuing to type away on your laptop as if he’s not even losing his mind beneath you. Or should he say behind you? Both? 

He bites his lip and closes his eyes, trying his best to keep staying still like you told him to, his hands clutching the sofa cushions to keep them from wandering without permission and distracting you from your work. 

And God, he’s trying so hard to be quiet too, but it feels so impossible. The more you type away and click open new emails, the more he throbs. And the more he throbs, the more your pussy reacts by squeezing around him. And then he can’t help but whimper, his eyes rolling back when you adjust in his lap and cause the tiniest bit of friction. 

Click, more typing. A few more clicks, more typing. Click, click, more typing. How long has it even been? Since the moment you sank down on him and started working, he feels like he’s lost all sense of time. All he knows is that your pussy has been squeezing him so good– and it’s so wet now too. Is it just as exciting for you as it is for him? Do you like it? Or is it how good he’s being for you that’s making you soak his cock? 

“B-Baby, are you almost done? Please tell me you’re almost done,” Changbin whines, the desperation in his voice palpable. You chuckle as you click send on another email, wishing you could see his face right now– you’re sure he’s absolutely debauched. “Not quite,” you answer, and you can practically hear the pout in his whine.

Changbin is many things, but impatient and disobedient is not among the list. And he’s trying so, so hard to keep staying still, but he doesn’t think he can take it much longer. Honestly, you’re not sure if you can either– you’re quickly losing focus on your emails, and you’re fairly certain at least a handful of them were written less than professionally. 

Still, you click open another one, trying not to react to the way he desperately whimpers. He can’t be bad, he can’t– so his only option is to keep sitting here, and take it. “You’re- you’re almost done now, right?” he asks after another few minutes of waiting– at least, it felt like that to him. For all he knew, in reality it could’ve been more like 30 seconds. 

“What’s wrong, baby? Can’t wait anymore?” It’s a bit of a mean question, you know– especially since you already know the answer. But still, it’s fun to ask, and you love how whiny and breathy his voice has gotten in the time you’ve been sitting on his cock. 

“I-I’m sorry, I’m really trying, I just- I-I’ve never wanted to fuck you so bad before, I’m going crazy,” he practically cries, and you’re sure that if you turned around, you’d see his plump lips formed into the cutest, most devastating pout. “But I’m- I’m good,” he continues after taking another shaky breath, “I won’t move, not unless you tell me to, I promise.”

Fuck it– you still have work, but who cares? Surely your boss will understand if you couldn’t get to every email right? You got through most of them, and that counts for something, doesn’t it? That’s the justification you give yourself anyways as you close your inbox. 

“You want to fuck me, Binnie?” you ask him, and he eagerly nods just as he did before, remembering again at the last moment that you can’t see him. “Yes, yes! I really, really want to,” he replies, letting out a salacious moan when you start to lift off him. You shut your laptop and place it back on the coffee table before you turn around to look at Changbin.

Just as you expected, he looks deliciously debauched. Lips swollen and bitten red, face flushed, eyes sparkling with hope and desire as he looks up at you. “You’re right baby, you’re good. Such a good boy,” you coo at him, leaning down to kiss him sweetly. “How do you want me?” you ask him when you pull back, and his brain has to work overtime to stop itself from short circuiting from the question.

If you’re letting him pick, there’s one clear answer that’ll make him the happiest. “Lay down- on your back, please. Want to look at you, want you to look at me,” he says, and you smile at him as you lay back against the sofa, spreading your legs so Changbin can crawl between them. He kisses you as he takes his cock in his hand, pressing it against your hole before pulling away to look at you for approval.

“Go ahead, fuck me, bunny,” you encourage him sweetly. A shiver runs down the length of his spine as he starts to push back inside you, another obscene whine from deep in his throat leaving him when he’s fully inside. He leans down to kiss you again when he starts to fuck you earnestly, because that’s all he can think to do with his overwhelming wave of emotions. 

He’s thrusting fast from the start, all the pent up desperation and need for you pouring out of him ceaselessly. Your eyes always stay on his, even when he hits your spot in the way that normally makes them close or roll back, and it makes him crazy how you’re catering to his desire to have you looking at him.  

Your eyes are so pretty, so warm in the way they look at him. Everything about you is warm– your hands when they hold him, your body when it envelops him, your voice when you speak to him. The way you smile at him when he enters the room, the way you laugh at his stupid jokes, it’s warm, all of you is so, so warm. You’re home, you’re comfort, you’re bliss.

He feels like he’s unraveling in his entirety as he looks down at you, his pace quickly growing sloppy as his cock throbs. He can’t handle the way you’re looking up at him, can feel the tears threatening to well up in the corners of his eyes. He’s so overwhelmed by it all– by the pleasure, by the way you look lying beneath him, by how much he loves you. 

“You’re so beautiful, oh my god,” he whines, every thought that’s been running through his mind falling from his lips as he squeezes you in his arms. He knows he should shut up, should bite his lip or slap his hand over his mouth before he says something he shouldn’t, but the words just keep pouring out of him. 

“You’re so pretty, so fucking pretty, I can’t take it sometimes,” he continues, whimpering when you bring your fingers to your clit and start to squeeze around him tighter. “You- you make me so crazy, you’re perfect, so perfect, and- God, ‘m so close, love you so much, I love you,” he stutters, his eyes rolling back as he feels you start to cum with him. He presses his cock fully into you one last time, his cum spurting out in thick ropes until you’re full.

He’s panting, glasses fallen down to the tip of his nose, body trembling as he slowly starts to come down from the high. “Binnie,” you call him softly, and it’s not until he opens his eyes and looks at you again that what he said hits him like a ton of bricks.

He told you he loves you. While he was fucking you. He told you he loves you.

There’s no way to turn it out around as platonic in this scenario– it’s so fucking obvious how he meant it. To say he’s mortified is an understatement; and when he tries to speak, all that comes out are pathetic stutters, every explanation he wants to offer dying in his throat. Your eyes are watery as you look at him, and suddenly his throat feels impossibly dry, his hands clammy as he pulls out of you. 

He fucked up so bad. He ruined everything, he knows he did– this isn’t how he wanted to tell you, he wasn’t even ready to tell you. And now you know, and you’re looking at him with so much concern he feels like he’s going to shatter. Not anger, not sadness, but care– a care entirely different from what he’s seen on you before.

It’s pity, isn’t it? You don’t share the sentiment and you pity him for blurting it out like that. “You love me?” you ask him, your voice soft but cautious, unsure. “I..” Changbin tries again, but honestly he just wants to cry. Every emotion, every word, lodged in his throat and stuck, but still he tries to explain himself. “I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean-”

You’ve always loved Changbin. Since the early days of your friendship, you’ve loved him. How could you not? You’d never met someone as sincere as him, his every action so affectionate and caring. A gentleman through and through, always making sure the people he loves are taken care of, always the first to offer a helping hand when someone is in need. 

But you’d given up on the idea that you could have something more so long ago– and becoming friends with benefits with him told you that he didn’t love you romantically. He was the first to offer, and people don’t offer that arrangement if it risks their feelings getting exposed; so he didn’t love you that way, you were certain. 

You told yourself you were okay with that. You were done with relationships, so tired of having your heart broken after pouring all of your love and faith into someone. And sure, you’d be heartbroken again when Changbin inevitably decides to move on, but at least it was a heartbreak you accepted would come, you’d be ready for it– that’s what you always told yourself.

But he loves you? Like, is in love with you? And he’s mistaking your surprise, your teary eyes, your struggle to wrap your head around the fact that he loves you as much as you love him as rejection. You can see it in the panic in his eyes, the way he stumbles over his words, the tremble in his voice– he thinks you don’t love him. 

How could he ever think you don’t love him? 

“Changbin, I-” you try again, and somehow the fact that you’re using his full name hurts worse; it's like a confirmation that you’re done with him, with this. It’s irrational, but the part of his brain that’s trying to talk sense into him is drowned out by the panic and fear of rejection, as if he can protect himself from the pain by accepting the fact that you don’t love him now before you say it out loud. 

“I need- I need a minute, I’m so sorry,” he blurts out, because even though he knows it’s coming, he can’t bear to hear it yet. He scrambles up from the sofa, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill as he rushes back to his room. He falls to his bed, burying his face into his pillows and lets out a trembling breath. 

Tomorrow.. He can’t avoid this, knows he needs to accept it sooner rather than later, but for this tiny moment, at least until tomorrow, he’s still yours.

Changbin isn’t avoiding you. At least, not on purpose– he just hasn’t gathered the courage to leave his room yet. He feels a bit like a hypocrite; he prides himself on his communication skills, and yet in the face of an honest conversation and acceptance of rejection, he flounders. Is he pathetic? You’d have every right to think so. 

Are you going to move out now? Should he? No, he should stop beating around the bush and just talk to you. You’re not in love with him, but you do love him– and that’s supposed to be enough, he told himself so many times that it is. 

You can work past this, can’t you? It has to be possible. He just doesn’t want to lose you, even if it breaks his heart he can take not having you romantically, is totally fine without the sex– but losing you as a friend? He can’t bear that.

He sighs, covering his face with his hands as he lies in his bed. He slept like shit, and he’s sure you didn’t fare much better– a thought that adds to the guilt he feels. But fuck, he needs to face this. The only thing that would be worse than losing you as a friend because being friends with benefits blew up in his face would be losing you because he was a spineless coward. 

Changbin grabs his phone, checks the time– it’s still early in the morning, but you’re usually awake by now. With another sigh to steel himself for what’s to come, he gets up from his bed and faces his door. He takes a breath, another attempt to calm his nerves, and walks to his door, quickly twisting the knob and pulling it open. 

“Oh!” you squeak in surprise, jumping where you stand before him. Changbin jumps too, with his own little shout of surprise coming out. How long were you standing outside of his door? Were you trying to work up the nerve to talk to him too? You blink at one another for a moment, and to Changbin’s relief, you’re the first to crack, letting out a little giggle. 

He giggles too, and though it’s a bit awkward given what happened late last night, it’s a relief that you’re not mad at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Changbin explains through his giggles, and God, your smile is so cute. You cover your mouth as you try to stop giggling, eyes crinkling and sparkling as you look at him, “No, no! It’s my fault for standing outside your door like this.” 

It eases him, feels more like the normal he’s used to with you– the normal he hopes and prays you can still share after this. “Can I come in?” you ask him, and of course he lets you, stepping to the side so you can enter his room. Your body language is still relaxed, but when you look at him again, your expression is serious.

Part of him worries that the lighthearted moment you just shared was a lapse in judgment on your part, and that you’re about to chew him out for running away last night– not that he wouldn’t deserve it if you did. But what you actually end up saying is a much stronger shock to his system. “Why do you think I don’t love you?”

“Wh-What? I-I.. I don’t-” Changbin stutters, blinking at you in utter shock, not even entirely sure how to respond.

“Because I do. I love you so much, Seo Changbin. The idea that you think I don’t hurts me,” you tell him, entirely sincere. That’s the part of his impromptu confession that kept you up at night, the part that upset you? Not that he loves you when he shouldn’t, or that your friendship might be ruined?

“If you think you’re not enough for me, you are– if you think you aren’t deserving of love, you are. Tell me what it is, so I can make sure you never question how much I love you again. Okay? I need you to promise me that.”

Changbin blinks, frozen, a million thoughts and emotions running through him. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t know the answer. There was such a big chunk of his life where he wasn’t happy with himself– the way he looked, the soft parts of his personality, his desires that felt so grandiose and impossible.. 

He thought he had to live to what other people expected him to be, that it was the only way they would love him. It took him years of effort, of stumbling and falling and getting back up to get where he is now. More confident in his body, in the way he walks through the world, in the love he pours into his family and friends.

But there’s that part of his old self that still lingers– a part that calls to him late at night, that makes him question if he’s allowed to be this happy. That reminds him it’s still there when he’s weak and unsure, that crawls up his spine whenever you smile at him, that won’t let him believe that you could love him. 

Changbin isn’t the same lanky, insecure boy he was when he first met you, but maybe he is. He looks different than he did then, but maybe that part of him is still there, underneath the built up muscle and maturity. Maybe it always will be, maybe there’s no way to ever make it go away– but maybe he doesn’t need to.

He thinks of all the times you were there for him, from the very first day you met. How you always encouraged him to do what makes him happy, how you supported him through his every decision to better himself. 

“I think you’re perfect the way you are, but if going to the gym would make you feel better about yourself, you should do it!” you told him when he brought up the topic of trying to bulk up and fill out his body. “You’re so adorable Binnie, seriously, how can you be so cute?” you grinned, pinching his cheeks the first time aegyo slipped out in front of you. 

No matter which version of himself he showed you, you loved him. Each part, no matter how different and against expectations, you cared for. And even with all the work he put into himself, there was still the part of him that tried to change in his romantic and sexual relationships. Trying to live up to what he thought his partners wanted, trying to adapt himself to them. 

But so effortlessly, you dismantled the expectations he put upon himself. All the times you called him sexy and adorable in the same breath, made him believe that he could be both at the same time– that he could be manly and intimidating, sweet and loving, sexy and cute all at once, and it was all still genuinely him, all worthy of love.

Maybe it’s impossible to shove insecurity completely aside; it’s likely that it’ll always linger. Even when it’s small, and tucked away, and very nearly forgotten, it’ll be there, waiting. And maybe that’s okay, because when you have someone who loves you as you are, who reassures you and listens to you and comforts you, it’ll start to fade back out as naturally as it came in.

“I don’t know why,” he answers honestly, his bottom lip starting to quiver. His best guess is that his fear of losing someone he loves so much expounded upon his underlying insecurities, made them flare to the point that he felt like he could drown in them. 

“I just know that I love you. And I need you, and not like- not like that, I just- ..I never want to be without you,” he continues, refusing to get choked up by his emotions and let it stop him from saying what he needs to. “And I promise- I’ll tell you, anytime I’m unsure of myself, I’ll tell you.” 

You step closer to him, reach up and cup his face in your hands, rub the tears that threaten to fall from the corners of his eyes with your thumbs. His heart skips a beat when you smile sweetly at him, when you lean towards him to press a soft kiss to his lips, to tell him you love him. “You said I was perfect,” you say as you kiss him again, and then again, “but so are you. You’re the loveliest person I’ve ever known.”

You press more kisses over his face, complimenting each feature as you go. His deep, dark eyes that can be so piercing or so soft depending on the situation. His full cheeks, so cute and endearing when they’re pink from a blush, but so handsome and complimentary to his face. His downturned smirk when something amuses him that can easily turn into a fully bright upturned smile when he’s happy, and makes his nose scrunch adorably. 

“Honey,” he breathes in a soft whine, unsure of what to do with all the excess affection. You guide him back to his bed, crawling atop him when he falls back against it, continuing your trail of kisses down his neck. “You deserve this,” you tell him, smiling against his skin when you feel him squirm beneath you, “deserve it all, and more.”

Changbin brings one of his hands to the back of your neck when you pull back to look at him, bringing you back down to him so he can kiss you. He doesn’t want to hold back anymore, to try and hide how badly he needs you. He kisses you like a man starved, hungry and desperate. His desire is carnal, every inch of him aching for your attention. 

Your hands sweep over his torso, finding the hem of his shirt and tugging at it. He gets the hint, and separates from you so you can take it off him. He watches you remove yours too, heart thumping in his chest as you reach behind you to unhook your bra. He tries to lean up to kiss you again when you’re finished, but you push him back down.

He whines at first, but quickly swallows it down when you smile at him in that pretty way that makes his stomach flare with butterflies, his cock twitching as it hardens beneath you. Your hands travel his body, compliments about each and every inch of him freely falling from your lips. His arms, thick and warm and comforting. His chest, so strong and beautifully sculpted. His stomach, soft and cute, as perfect as the rest of him. 

You kiss him too– everywhere your fingers touch, your lips follow. Soft, tender, overwhelming– his heart is beating so fast and hard, all your words, touches, and kisses make his blood feel like molten lava, every inch of him unbearably hot. It chokes him up too, how sweet you’re being to him; you’ve doted on him plenty of times, but never like this.

You take one of his hands in yours next, bring it up to your lips to press achingly soft kisses to it. The palm first, and then his wrist, before you turn it over to kiss his knuckles. You kiss the tip of each of his fingers, and his breath hitches as he watches you, goosebumps erupting all over him when you gently put it down and pick up his other hand to repeat the actions. 

You treat him with so much reverence, shower him with more love than he knows what to do with. He’s trembling with emotion, aching with desire, overwhelmed by how much he loves you, how beautiful you look. He’s going to cry– seriously, he doesn’t know how much more he can take before tears start spilling out of him. 

“Honey, please-” Changbin whines, and to his relief, you pause to look at him. “Please, I- let me make you feel good, please? I want to, I- I want to show you how much I love you too,” he begs. You intended to take care of him, to shower him in affection until you inevitably made him cum, but you meant it when you said you can never deny him his desire to be sweet to you.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” you say, and you watch as he chews on his bottom lip, face heating up further as he considers what to say. He knows what he wants, he’s thought about it so many times– it’s just the admitting and asking for it part that makes him a little shy. Still, you treat him so well, and you always indulge him, so.. The only thing to do is just go for it. 

“I want.. Want you to sit on my face. Please? Please, please sit on my face,” he begs, and God, that has to be the sexiest thing he’s ever begged for. It makes your stomach flip, and if your legs weren’t straddling him, you definitely would’ve clenched them together. Lifting yourself off him, you make quick work of the remainder of your clothes. 

Changbin scoots down the bed, so your legs will have more room when you return to him, chucking his glasses away, not nearly enough care in him for where they land. He looks at you, with a devastatingly sweet and bashful smile, his arms reaching out to help you when you start to settle above him. Your knees on either side of his head, he wraps his arms around your thighs. 

The latter half of his face is obscured by your body hovering over him, but looking down, you can see his eyes, sparkling with eager excitement as he keeps your gaze. You lower yourself just a little, nervous to sit your entire weight on his face and suffocate him, but Changbin doesn’t want you to hover, he wants you to sit. 

So using the arms he has wrapped around you, he pulls you fully down to him. You gasp– partly because of the surprise, and partly from the feeling of his tongue meeting your pussy. He focuses on your hole first, lapping up all the slick that drips out of you before he drags his tongue up to your clit, licking in a long, fat stripe.

He wraps his lips around it, sucking and flicking it with his tongue until you're writhing above him before he alternates back to licking you up, bottom to top, drinking all you offer. You bury your fingers in his curly hair, and he moans when you tug on it. He squeezes your trembling thighs, letting out happy hums whenever you moan for him.

He sticks out his tongue and lays it flat for you when you start to roll your hips, letting you grind against his face and use him however you see fit to. You shiver when your clit bumps against his nose, your breaths becoming harsher as you drive yourself closer to release on his tongue.

“Oh bunny, you’re so good to me, so good, ‘m gonna cum for you,” you cry, voice whinier than you would’ve otherwise liked it to be, but the way Changbin whines eagerly in response tells you how much he loves it. A few more rolls of your hips, and you’re cumming, your thighs squeezing around his head as you keep a tight grip on his hair to keep yourself steady. 

Changbin enthusiastically laps up your release, continuing until you're squirming and whining from the sensitivity. He loosens his hold on your thighs when you do, letting you lift your leg over his head and fall to the side of the bed a little ways away from him. Both of you are breathless, but Changbin is the first to recover, and when he does he sits up and crawls over to where you landed.

He grabs your face, gently, of course, and pulls you into a kiss. His face is slick with your essence, and you can taste yourself all over his lips and tongue. “You looked so pretty,” he tells you softly between kisses, “You’re so gorgeous when you cum for me.” He carefully spreads your legs and slots himself between them, sliding his tongue around yours as he does. 

“Want to give you my cock now,” he breaths, pulling away just enough to look at you with those eager, pleading eyes that make you weak. “Want to keep making you feel good, want to- want to watch your eyes roll back when I make you cum again.” 

“Sweet boy,” you coo, spreading your legs wider for him, offering yourself to him, “do it, baby. Give it to me.”

He kicks off the remainder of his clothes in record time, taking his cock in his hand and spreading the dribbling pre-cum over his length until it’s completely wet. You’re more than ready for him, but he’s as careful with you as always, pushing each inch inside slowly. 

You reach out to him and pull him down to you, kissing him hard and sweet, drinking in the whimper he lets out when he’s fully inside you. His entire body is trembling, still worked up from all the attention you gave him and sensitive from fucking you just last night. There’s a part of him that still feels vulnerable too, but he’s safe with you, and he knows you always will be. 

He loves you well, but you love him better; and he’ll spend every moment he has showing how much he appreciates you. He doesn’t need to prove his worth, doesn’t need to do anything apart from be himself– the love you’ve given him has shown him that. You understand him, better than anyone ever has. 

You love him, you always have, long before who he is now, and will continue to long into the future. All he has to do to repay all you’ve given him is love you. Love you honestly, openly, freely– because he’s enough as he is.

When he starts to move his hips, you both moan, Changbin just the slightest bit louder than you. He tucks his arms under your shoulders and pulls you closer to him, chests touching as he steadily builds a faster pace. He’s squeezing you in his arms, whining in your ear about how good you feel around him.

He’s so high-strung and sensitive that he doesn’t think he’ll last long, but oh, is he going to try. But shit, he’s still so emotional too– he thought he would’ve recovered by now, but it keeps hitting him in waves. And when you kiss him, it makes him dizzy– not just with lust and desire, but with passion, adoration.

The way he looks down at you when he pulls away takes your breath away, so sentimental and loving. You take his face into one of your hands again, and it takes everything in him to not get choked up again. Your love is his greatest comfort, but it also makes him ache– because no one has ever loved him as sincerely as you do. 

“Do you need to stop?” you ask him tenderly, once again wiping the tears from his eyes. His heart feels like it’s going to burst from all the emotion, but he quickly shakes his head, offering you a sincere smile, “N-No, no, I’m fine! I just- I really love you,” he admits, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips to show you he means it.

“And besides, I might go actually insane if I don’t fuck you, cause seriously, how are you so fucking sexy?” he follows up. “Oh, shut up,” you giggle, playfully slapping his arm. “This is supposed to be about you, you know? My sweet bunny and how perfect he is- maybe I need to remind you?” 

Changbin curiously tilts his head at your words as you lock your legs around him and using what strength you have, and with the help of gravity and momentum, you force him to roll to his side, and then to his back. You smile down at him, your roles easily flipped, while he stares up at you, mystified and easily the most turned on he’s ever been. 

“Oh-” is all he manages to utter, his cock throbbing furiously inside you. He could’ve easily fought it– he’s physically much stronger than you, after all. But he just loves when you force him into the positions you want, loves to be malleable and pliant for you. 

You plant your hands firmly on his chest, bouncing on his cock fast, the sound of your thighs slapping together just barely louder than Changbin’s obscenely loud whimpers. “Oh God, ‘m gonna cum,” he whines desperately, too wound up and sensitive to resist it, his hands clutching at the bedsheets so hard his knuckles have turned white, “please, please, please, can I, please? Please, let me cum.” 

“I love you so much, Binnie, want you to cum for me,” you tell him, bringing one of your hands to your clit so you can cum with him, the way he always loves to. It causes you to squeeze tighter, and he gasps, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he trembles. “Give it to me, baby, be a good boy and cum for me.”

He does just as you ask, a messy string of “I love you”s falling from his lips until he’s too far gone to keep talking, tears streaming down the sides of his face as his eyes roll to the back of his head, and then close. His noises are high-pitched and pornographic, his entire body shaking with the intensity of his cum spilling inside you.

His vision is blurry when he starts to blink open his eyes, but soon enough you come back into focus above him, looking down at him affectionately. He smiles at you, a goofy, sweet one that makes you giggle. He wraps his arms around you and drags you down to him, pressing kisses to your lips over and over again. 

Changbin tells you everything he’s wanted to this entire time as he does; how beautiful you are, how much he loves you, how he can’t imagine his life without you in it. He blushes when you do the same, while once again making him promise he’ll tell you if doubt ever starts to creep up on him. 

The journey to loving yourself isn’t easy; it’s a long winding road, uneven and easy to stumble on. But when he falls, you’ll be there to catch him. You’ll remind him how loved he is, the value he has simply in being, how he brightens every day you share just by existing. 

You’ll always be here, growing older with him, supporting him as he continues to grow and change, each experience turning him into a newer version of himself. And in every change, in every season of his life, you’ll continue to love him. Always.

network tags: @ksmutsociety @skzstarnet

[juletheghoul]

JULES! It's currently 12:30am and I can't stop thinking about your Marcus gladiator fic. I need to scream this at you.

Picture this:

They are back in Rome. They are in the baths, public or private. I personally picture public ignoring the fact he would definitely get his own bathing area being a successful General but I digress. Someone has had a bit too much wine and gets a little too handsy and rough with his girl. That pisses him off so now he has to take a statement right? You can't touch what's his!

So he calls her into the water with him and has her continue the bathing while sitting on his cock before just eventually destroying her. Bonus points if he makes stoic eye contact with the offending party that started it all.

I cannot get this idea out of my head and I just had to share this with you.

Take care~! ❤️

Nonny - you really came for my fucking throat with this one... 😍😍😍 like... I stared at this with my jaw on the floor - what a mind you have... okay lets get into it

smut under the cut - 18+ and don't read more if you aren't into exhibitionism (not beta'ed and barely proofread lmao)

Series masterlist

---

The campaign was finally over, for now.

He'd marched into the city with his legions behind him, and the streets of Rome roared to herald their victor, the famous, brutal, but efficient, General Marcus Acacius.

He waved, and made the appropriate salutes to the city, but he was sparing with his smiles, his eyes scanning even here in the safety of Rome's breast, for anything that might threaten his safety. You watched him from your place behind him, along with the other slaves that had followed him and his soldiers off to war, invisible in his shadow to anyone but him, and a few brazen few who had decided to test his boundaries. They had been forgotten however, the only thing that occupied your mind, was him.

His first stop had been his villa, to settle his household. It was all very cut and dry, his staff knew to keep his house in order in his absence and they did so, enough that he hadn't even spoken more than a few words while he made his way through. While he set about getting settled in, you did the same, moving silently through his halls towards your modest quarters. The road had been long, and you thought that you could probably get away with bathing, and taking a few moments to yourself, trusting that now he would be well attended to.

You barely got your bearings when he cleared his throat at your door.

"Apologies Dominus, did you want for something?"

"Gather your things, we go to the baths."

-

The baths, strictly speaking, were for everyone. There were certain ones however, like the one you were in now, that were privately owned. This one, was owned by a member of the Senate and friend to the Roman army, and as such, was populated by a few other soldiers, and their attendants.

Marcus spoke very little by nature, he was a man who kept his words as close as he did his coin. He said even less when confronted with raucous laughter, and men who couldn't seem to keep their dignity when taking a cup of wine.

His jaw clenched as you both settled into the warm waters of the baths and you set about washing the march and the war and the violence off of his skin, sitting behind him to rub the knots from his shoulders while ignoring the ever increasingly loud soldiers around you. One of them, was the same that had tested his patience in his tent, and by the way he kept eyeing Marcus in front of you, had forgotten the lesson.

"The oil, girl." He spoke low over his shoulder, and you belatedly realized you'd left the oil he liked with the robes when you'd undressed.

"Yes Dominus." WIth haste, and not an ounce of shame, you rose up out of the water and went to grab the vial, finding it quickly, but before you could make it back to him you were cut off.

"I can see why you like this one General, I can see why you're so greedy with her." The same soldier stands in your way, his hands grabbing at your waist. The wine in his cup spills onto your naked skin and for a moment you're afraid he'll paw at you further but within a moment he's as still as a statue. That's when you notice, the deathly hush that falls over the whole place.

You look up into the soldiers face and his eyes are as big as plates, a small dagger pressed to the apple of his throat, the point just deep enough to draw blood. You hadn't heard him come out of the water.

"This is the last warning I give you, the next time you put your hands on what's mine, you will die." His voice was a whisper, but it echoed through the room. "Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

"Ye-yes, Yes General." all humor had gone from the man, and when Marcus had pulled away, all taste for wine had as well.

Wordlessly you followed Marcus back into the water, but instead of sitting in front of you, he pulled you to sit in his lap, keeping his eyes on the spurned soldier.

"I want you sitting like this." His hands settled on your hips and you felt the way he hardened beneath you, "Continue." He spoke low, but clear and kept his eyes focused, daring anyone to question him.

You did your best to focus on washing his hair, on rubbing the oil into the skin of his shoulders and his chest, but his hands wandered, grabbing at your ass and fitting his cock between the lips of your sex, drawing out your arousal and making your pulse quicken. His lips descended next, pressing softly to your shoulder while his eyes remained fixed. WIth a move, he slid his cock inside, pulling a moan from your lips, it only served to bolster him, making no move to conceal what he was doing and you knew it was part frustration from being at war, and driving home his point.

He said nothing, but he didn't need to.

People watched him take you there, in the water, and they said nothing. Any modesty you had, and shame had been worked out of you long ago and now, all you felt was pleasure. Both at him bouncing you on his cock, and at him having taught the soldier a lesson on your behalf. You ignored the part that sang the sweet song of ownership. You were his, and he relished the fact.

"Dominus-" You all but moaned into his ear, "May I have your gift?" You bounced on your own now, holding onto his neck, pressing yourself tightly to him.

"Yes Girl, it's yours, take it." He grit out the words, his eyes finally finding yours. You sped up, using your buoyancy to your advantage, clenching around him on the downstroke and when you felt his hands tighten around your hips you knew you had him.

"May I have your mouth, Dominus?" You watched his lips as you bounced, and he smiled a tiny smile before claiming your kiss with the same ardor that burned in your veins.

His tongue licked into your mouth and within a moment you felt the first spurt of him, deep inside where he liked it to be.

After a few minutes you made to move but his hands held you tightly. You took a look around, but unbeknownst to you, the baths had emptied and you were alone.

"I did not feel you flutter, and I am not yet clean."

---

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[scyeschef]

This moment will always be IT for me. This scene was probably more significant for me than the table scene, and that says a lot because that scene was extremely significant! I remember when i first saw this scene and was genuinely so taken back by the editing, the song, the expressions. And the fact that it's STILL on my mind almost a year later and i end up finding something new about it every time??

Then people want to pretend that this moment was strictly platonic and that Syd only equaled the restaurant... I knew in this moment that they were showing us Carmy realized how much he loved Syd and that she meant so much more to him. She's his peace. She was not a product of his trauma through his childhood and family. He was uncertain about Claire, but certain about Syd. I don't care. I am not budging.

I even tried to one time just so i could stop talking about sydcarmy to my friend who wants them to only be platonic. But oh well! The editors and Mr. Storer shouldn't have shown me this scene!

[kpop---scenarios]

Mine Now

Pairing: Changbin x Reader

Warning: Smutty smut smut [18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

Word Count: 1k

A/N: Happy early birthday, Binnie! ♡

Everything Taglist: @piscesrising01 @baby-stay92 @kisses-too-the-moon @dwaekkiiracha @rylea08 @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @satosugu4l @iovecb97 @lordmaahes-nsc @sailorkoss @minh0scat @pixie0627 @50-husbands @jinnies-muse @yaorzu-blog @joyofbebbanburg @number1jeonginstan @skzooluvr @jisunglyricist @ambersnowxxx

@wife2straykids @silly250 @tsunderelino @1810cl @anskiiz

@ayyonoona @31maze13

“Changbin?” You murmur as you open the front door to his apartment. You assumed he'd likely be asleep as it was 2am but you were drunk and you needed to tell him the gossip of what happened tonight before you forgot about it. “Are you sleeeeeping?” You harshly whisper.

The lights in his kitchen were still on, the TV in the living room was still playing a show. You walked further inside, standing at the start of the hallway listening for any sounds of movement, and that's when you heard it. The muffled sounds of breaths coming from his spare bedroom. You shuffle your feet down the hallway, grabbing the doorknob, pushing the door wide open.

Your mouth gapes open as you watch a shirtless, sweaty Changbin standing in front of the large mirror lifting weights. You and Changbin had been extremely close friends for years, and there were multiple times that you wanted to rip his clothes off and wrap your mouth around his cock, or ride him until you couldn't move anymore, but you didn't know if his feelings towards you were strictly platonic or not, and you'd never been brave enough to ask him.

“Oh shit.” He laughs, putting the weight down. “How long have you been standing there?” He asks, taking his headphones off his ears.

“Not long enough.” You mutter, staring at his impeccable body.

“What?” He chuckles, grabbing a towel, wiping his face.

“Don't.” You whisper.

“Don't? Don't what?” He asks.

“Don't wipe your sweat.” You say, you can't take your eyes off of him.

“What's going on?” He asks. “Are you okay?”

“I'm all good.” You grin, finally looking him in the eyes. “You're really hot, you know?”

“Am I? Or are you drunk?”

“I am yes, but that doesn't change the fact that you're super fucking hot.” You whisper.

He smiles at you as he walks closer to you. You move away from the doorway, pressing your back against the wall. Changbin stands close to you, so close you could run your hands down his stomach to feel all the muscles and sweat.

“What are you doing here?” He asks.

“I had gossip for you… but I can't remember now.” You admit, looking up at him.

“You should sleep off the alcohol.” He says, going to turn away. You grab his wrist, turning him back towards you.

“If I do that I'll lose my nerve.”

“For what?” He asks.

“This.” You whisper, pressing your lips against his, only for a second before you pull back, leaning against the wall again.

“Y/N.” He sighs. “You're drunk.”

“I'm sober enough to know I want this. I want you.”

He stares at you for a moment, stretching his arm out, hand on the wall as he leans in closer to you.

“What do you want me to do?” He asks.

“I want you to fuck me.”

He smiles widely as he leans back in, pushing his body against yours as his lips attach to yours. His hand rests on your cheek as he slides his tongue into your mouth. You wrap your arms around his neck while he grips your thighs, pulling you up to wrap your legs around his waist. Your skirt rides up as his hands move from your thighs to your ass, He feels around, groaning when he realizes you just have a thong on underneath. He pulls away from the kiss to look at you.

“You're sure?” He asks.

“Fuck me, Binnie.” You smile.

He moves his hands down to his shorts, pulling them down, letting his already hard cock spring free. He reaches between the two of you, the tips of his fingers grazing your already sopping cunt as he moves your panties to the side. He watches you as he slowly inserts two fingers inside you. Watching your eyes roll back into your head, while he slowly pumps them in and out of you a few times, before he takes them out, placing them in his mouth, sucking your juices from them.

“Delicious.” He whispers, lining himself up with you before he harshly thrusts his cock inside you.

“Fuck.” You scream out, his cock stretches out your pussy, leaving you feeling so full. Your nails dig into his back as he slowly thrusts in and out of you, your head nestled into the crook of his neck, muffling your gasps and moans.

“You're so fucking tight.” He grunts, pushing him deeper inside you with each thrust. He was taking his time with you, really feeling you clench around him each time he pushed himself into you, listening to you gasp and moan with each one.

“P-please…” You moan. “Faster.”

Changbin pulls his cock out slightly before ramming it back inside you, now picking up his pace, fucking you harder, faster and deeper as you drag your nails up and down his back. You can feel your orgasm building quicker with each thrust, your clit being rubbed in the right way while he fucks you against the wall.

“God damn, baby.” He groans, relishing in the feeling of your body bouncing against his while he's inside you.

“Bin… I'm gonna…” You pant.

“What, baby?” He grunts. “You gonna cum on my cock? Go on, do it, cum all over my cock.”

“Holy fuck.” You cry out as your orgasm hits you full force, making your entire body stiffen up as you work through your high.

“Good girl.” He whispers in your ear, pounding into you. “I'm gonna cum in your cunt.”

“Do it… fill me up Bin.” You moan, holding onto him.

“Fuck!” He yells out, his orgasm hitting him, panting as he cums deep inside you.

He stands there for a moment, catching his breath before he pulls out of you, setting you back down on the floor.

“Wow.” You chuckle, your knees buckling as you try to catch yourself.

Changbin grabs onto you, squatting down before throwing you over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” You chuckle.

“We're gonna go shower, and then you're gonna tell me the gossip, and tomorrow I'm going to take you on an all day date.” He laughs, taking you out of the room towards the bathroom.

“You're mine now. Any objections?”

[unlosts]

Late Spring

Summary: In an Italian restaurant somewhere in Nebraska you and the BAU decompress after non stop cases. And like a magic trick SSA Aaron Hotchner goes back to being Aaron

Word count: 1.8k

After a serial arsonist in North Hempstead, New York; a serial killer in Chandler, Arizona and an amber alert taking you to Lincoln, Nebraska back to back the entire team was running on fumes. Actually fumes were what you were running after the second week, right now it was just coffee and the thought of eventually getting to sleep in your own beds.

It’s not easy being in close quarters with the same group of people for so long, especially when you’ve had to share bedrooms for most of it. First a week with JJ, then three days with Emily and even one night with Spence after both Derek and Rossi refused to bunk with him citing intense sleep talking - which was, in fact, confirmed by you.

Eventually all the rooms started to blur together in your head, from the ugly pink explosion that was the bed and breakfast (which by the way had none), to the motel 6 in Nebraska that seemed straight out of a horror story, complete with an extremely creepy caretaker. Or future unsub Mike as Emily dubbed him.

Tonight was the last night before you could get home and you guys were celebrating big time, which at your current combined energy level meant an actual sit down meal where you didn’t have to look at a dismembered torso while trying to keep down some soggy fries and an under cooked burger.

You all ate in relative silence, brains too fried to talk about anything anymore, the rundown “italian” restaurant - yes Italian in air quotes just like Rossi insisted on doing every time he mentioned the place. The buzzing of the fluorescent light and the scraping of cutlery against plates being the only backdrop to your collective exhaustion.

The only good thing to come out of it was the fact that, finally, after close to three weeks Hotch could ditch the BAU Unit Chief SSA Hotchner and for once just be Aaron. And oh how you missed Aaron.

Despite having spent the better part of each day right next to him it felt like the chasm between you was larger than ever. It was what you had both agreed to; at work pretend like he’s just your unit chief and you’re just the media liaison. No room sharing, no public displays of affection.

Sometimes the affection bleed through the contours of professionalism he insisted on keeping well defined. Something as simple as him pressing his big palm in the middle of your back right between your shoulder blades as you spoke to him; heads a smidge closer together than strictly necessary.

Right now, though, he was just Aaron. Your Aaron. Sitting right next to you, chairs pushed together. Shirt sleeves rolled over his forearms, tie discarded in the hotel room along with his jacket and the last vestiges of whatever sense of professionalism he was still clinging to. His arm around the back of your chair as you leaned into it, head tilted back looking at him as he drank a beer.

He looks back at you and gives you a brief smile, the fondness in his eyes lingering, leg nudging yours underneath the table.

“Don’t tell me you’re tired already,” He says. “Me? Are you kidding?” You yawned “Send us off to the next case I’m ready” Although it wasn’t the cold the sleepiness was making the air conditioned room feel ten times colder so you shivered and took the liberty to lean even closer to him. His hand went to rub your arm trying to warm you back up.

“Do not” Derek chimed in “even joke about that, pretty boy said the same thing after Lincoln and look at us now”

“Yeah, look at us now, in Lincoln” Said Emily with a straight face before drowning the remainder of her beer and snatching JJs before she could realize what had happened.

“I’m too tired for this, you know what I meant.”

“mhhh, sooryy” You replied, not looking very sorry as you closed your eyes and rested your head on the crook of Aarons neck. Breathing in the comforting scent of his cologne and him, more present than ever after day three in the Nebraska summer. His hand is still trailing a path up and down your side, wrinkling your already very wrinkled green shirt and lulling you to sleep.

You felt Aarons lips nudge your temple talking to your in low gentle tones, his breath tickling the baby hairs in your forehead “Do no fall asleep on me or I’ll have to carry you back to the hotel”

“And you’re afraid that if people saw I would lose all of my hard earned Lincoln Nebraska street cred?”

He huffed a laugh before planting a whisper of a kiss on your temple “No, I’m afraid I’m going to throw my back and then you’ll be stuck taking care of me for two weeks”

“If it gets you to rest for two entire weeks I might just consider it”

“Jack would probably help”

“It’s good that you know us so well, and besides I saw you yesterday you still got it” You smiled against his neck remembering the brief but very interesting fight against the unsub before he could be apprehended. “Remind me to ask Penny if she has a copy of the surveillance tape, I’m planning on making the showing it at your birthday dinner next year”

“Look forward to it”

Suddenly you felt a small object hit your chest, looking down to see a crumpled napkin on your lap.

“Can you please get a room? This is the first decent meal I’ve had in weeks and I would hate to throw it back up” Said Emily with a mocking smile, her pearly white teeth contrasting with her faded, barely there plum lipstick.

“I’ve been trying to find a room for days now but none of you know how to cooperate” You reply with a huff.

“Saying please repeatedly until I tell you to shut up is not a good persuasion strategy” Said JJ frowning after getting her beer back from Emily and realizing it was almost empty.

“I don’t see why not, it’s never failed before” You said with a smug smile.

“Besides if we suffer, you suffer” Derek interjects.

“Aww just like a real family”

After a couple of minutes Spencer piped up next to Derek “I would have traded rooms with you”

“Don’t encourage her” Said JJ in her patented and perfected disgruntled mom voice

“I’m going to keep this in mind next time you ask us to babysit Henry so you can have alone time, Jareau”

“Okay, okay” Emily interrupted “Let’s all change subjects, the last thing I want is to talk more about Hotch’s sex life; no offense but in order for this to work I have to think of you like a Ken Doll”

You let out a startled laugh, properly awake now “oh I can assure you my friend-”

“Okay, that’s enough” Said Hotch trying to invoke his authoritative former prosecutor, current FBI unit chief voice. Which was, of course, completely useless when he was blushing so hard.

You just laughed once more, leaning over to briefly kiss his cheek in apology as your friends heckled you both.

What was meant to be a quick dinner before hitting the hay, although in this case the hay was actually a very thin and lumpy hotel mattress, turned into a couple more beers. And yes there were times this week when going to sleep and waking up to Emily's snoring face made you want to quit and move to the seaside but there was truly no other group of people that could make an “Italian” dinner this fun.

Afterwards you all headed you, the brief rise in energy quickly waning at the prospect of more than five hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Aaron held you back towards the rear of the group, his arm around you possibly the only thing keeping you upright. The dusk settling over the skyline painted the city pink and gold, you looked back at him standing next to each other on the sidewalk. His eyes a syrupy sweet caramel brown in the golden hour.

“Apparently there’s an ice cream place a couple of blocks from here, it’s supposed to be very good actually” He said looking down for a minute. It took you back to your first date, him asking to take you to a jazz bar which was more so Dave's plan than his, only to end up at a taco truck talking until three am. It amazed you then just as it did now how he could go from stern FBI agent, commanding a room without raising his voice to, well, Aaron.

You smiled up at him, the others long gone leaving you two enveloped in the last rays of sunlight.

“I’d love to, you might actually have to carry me back though, I don’t think this second wind is gonna carry me more than an hour”

“That’s alright, I heard that if I throw my back I get a couple of weeks”

“Whoever told you that was so smart”

“And beautiful”

“Can’t forget that part”

“Well I might not be able to swing two whole weeks but I did arrange to have three days off for everyone” Aaron said, hands in his pocket walking by leisurely next to you as passersby carved a path around you both, a hurried businessman bumping into your back made Hotch pull you closer still, once more enveloping your back.

“Are you serious?” At his assenting nod you couldn't help but smile “and you kept that all to yourself?”

“Mhm”

“Anything else up your sleeve Hotchner?”

“Aaron”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve heard the name Hotch so often these last couple of weeks I almost forgot what my actual name sounded like” He said with a small smile, but you also knew by the way he melted when you said it that he was particularly fond of how it sounded coming out of your mouth.

“Okay, anything else up your sleeve, Aaron?” You asked fondly, unable to resist any longer and stealing a quick kiss before resuming your walk.

“No, nothing else”

“Okay”

“Oh I did convince Dave to share a room with Derek tonight which would indicate that I’m on my own tonight”

“No way, did I miss an anniversary or something?” You asked looking up at him

“No, I just missed you lately”

“Me too but no one else would budge on the room thing, how did you do it?”

“It only cost me forty bucks and promising to take over both Morgans and Rossi's reports for the last case”

“Ah bribery, should have done that sooner”

“You can’t blame yourself honey, I was a prosecutor after all”

You laughed once more, giddiness dispersing your exhaustion, making you feel like you could stay up until next morning, without trouble.

Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, the ice cream shop just right around the corner, you drew him towards you, leaning up to kiss him slowly and unhurried. Savoring the feeling of coming home after three weeks and not being able to wait a moment more.

[mj0702]

I hope you like it 😅😅

“Bebita… hem de parlar” Ona said one afternoon you being hunched over the kitchen island lose papers scattered around you

“no puc de moment… cal acabar-ho” you mumbled trying to find a way through the Swedish back line

“Take a walk with me” the spaniard said and you heard it wasn’t a question – it was a fact

“Ona leave her… you can take Narla” Lucy said laying spread our on the couch the small dog at her feet

“We can take Narla with us, sí… But I think Bebita would benefit from a break… she’s working on that sheet for hours now” Ona said strictly and even your sister didn’t dare to talk back

“She can hear you…” you mumbled “Stupid Eriksson and stupid Björn making me headache”

“Bebita… up… walkies” Ona said overly sweet and Narla lifted her head before jumping off the couch coming running over happily “Sí Narla… you too”

“But I have to…” you started as you felt Ona pull you off the high bar chair

“…. We go walkies now… go get your shoes… and sunscreen” the spaniard basically sneered and you realized you better get going

So you scattered over the floor to your room to get a different shirt and your flip flops – the good one Mapí gifted you

“BEBITA!” you heard Ona yell and you physically flinched never been on the receiving end of Onas yelling so you quickly made your way down the hallway where the spaniard already waited for you

“You put sunscreen on?” the blonde asked lifting an eyebrow

“Don’t need…” you started and before you know it Ona already was covering your face and neck in cream like you were three years old

“Onaaaaa…” you whined trying to get away from her hands

“Atura-ho” the spaniard mumbled as she once again smearing more sunscreen on your face “I won’t let you get sunburned”

“I’m not three” you continue to whine

“Could’ve fooled me” Ona mumbled “Arm”

“come oooon” you stomped your foot a little which made Narla bark happily thinking you’re going to kick her favorite toy for her

“Narla” the spaniard hushed the westie gently and the high pitched barking stopped immediately “You sure behave like a three year old”

20 minutes later you got out of the car after Ona drove through the Barcelona traffic up to the Olympic Stadium from Barcelona. You loved it up here since Lucy took you to the place first time you visited. It was quite simply build but you felt the majestic Olympic spirit once you entered the building. It was as if the whole air change by the importance of the place running through your body as you walked through the little corridor that connected the outside world with the inside.

You were already a few steps away from the car when you heard Ona whistle

“This way Bebita” the spaniard said pointing the other way towards the Jardí Botànic de Barcelona – the botanical garden.

“Ugh… green stuff” you rolled your eyes but trotted after the blonde

“Go on Narls” Ona smiled as she clipped the leash off the collar and let the westie run lose

“How are you Bebita?” the spaniard looked at you while you kept your eyes trained forward

“Muy Bien… por qué?” you said a little confused

“You know there’s a thing that just doesn’t leave me alone…” Ona started and it was right this second you knew this wasn’t going to be a nice chat

“I like you… please don’t ruin it by talking about your sex life with me sister” you whined hoping you could distract her from whatever topic she was about to disclose

“Nice try… no…” the spaniard chuckled but got serious immediately again “… you remember the afternoon we talked about my tattoo? How it was spelled wrong?”

“Must have slipped me mind” you mumbled and Ona knew you knew exactly what she was talking about

“Yeah well… you asked me if I tried to commit too… at first I didn’t realize what you were asking… I didn’t understood it properly so I ask a friend what it means to “commit”… I had a suspicion that night when I laid in bed but I didn’t knew if I was right” Ona said seriously “… so I asked a friend and she confirmed my suspicion”

“Hm… no idea what you’re talking about” you hummed stopping at a big red blossom

“Then let me help you out with your own language… “to commit” can stand for “committing suicide”… as well as other things but since we were talking about that topic that afternoon I think I was right about that suspicion” the spaniard said seriously trying to read you

“Hmm…” you hummed again looking at the blossom intensely

“Talk to me Bebita” the spaniard said softly keeping a small distance between the two of you

“I rather not…” you mumbled enchanted by the flower

“Bebita…” Ona sighed sadly “… don’t you trust me? I swear I won’t tell a soul”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you… you are family at this point” you said as you decided to walk on

“Then talk to me” the spaniard begged

“It would bring you into a situation that would be unfair to you…” you stated seriously “… it would mean you knew something about me me sister has no idea of… and if it EVER comes out she would be so SO hurt… so.. I don’t have a clue what you are talking about”

“You did try and kill yourself didn’t you?” Ona asked walking a step behind you

“I’m still here… so no” you chuckled humorless

“Bebita… please” the spaniard grabbed your wrist stopping you successfully

“I can’t talk about it with you Ona…” you said quietly

“But you CAN…. I won’t tell Lucy” Ona said – no begging you

“I CAN’T… if Lucy ever finds out she’ll freak… if she THEN finds out you KNEW about it… it would destroy her Ona…” you felt the tears in your eyes “… IF she ever finds out she’ll need you… you need to catch her from falling”

“Mi pequeña Bebita” the spaniard whispered pulling you against her and the second your bodies connect you cling to her like she was the life jacket keeping you from drowning sobbing into her shirt “it’s going to be okay… I promise”

Ona held you until your tears substituted and your breathing became slower again

“I won’t push you…” the blonde whispered against your hair “… but are you save now or do I need to keep an extra eye on you?”

“No I’m good now… I wasn’t for a long time… but being here helped… a lot” you said and Ona saw it was genuine

“Good…” the spaniard pressed a soft kiss to your temple “… because I won’t hesitate to throw a knife at you”

“You don’t even hit a yard door from five meters away with a bowling ball…” you chuckled through your tears “… but I’d love to see you try”

“Disculpe??” Ona faked being outraged

“I saw you on the state fair… you had five balls and didn’t hit one tin Ona… FIVE balls!!” you rolled your eyes relieved that the spaniard didn’t squeeze an answer out of you

“This game was… regged” the spaniard grumbled

“Rigged…” you corrected “… and it wasn’t… you took out the guy who worked there… it looked painful when that ball hit his nose”

“It wasn’t my fault he had no reflexes” the spaniard defended herself

“He was leaning to the OUTSIDE of the booth… you basically threw backwards” you laughed and to Ona that sound was made by heaven

“He still could’ve paid attention and blocked it” Ona huffed before whistling again “Come on Narla… I think someone would like cuttlefish for dinner”

“Don’t you dare poison the dog… she did nothing to you” you exclaimed

“I wasn’t talking about her…” Ona laughed when she turned around letting you rooted to the ground letting you process the information

“No Ona please….” You sprinted after her

“You said you love me” you whined as you jumped on her back making the spaniard burst out laughing as she carried you while Narla jumped up and around you two barking happily

[freelancearsonist]

Whole

Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Rated MA for the most long-winded poetic smut i've ever written jfc 🤦‍♀️ slow burn fluff with a couple sprinkles of angst for flavor, reader uses fem pronouns and is described as having female parts, it's dirty y'all but at least they use protection

7,470 Words

A/N: you all know my mo by now i disappear for a year and then come back and lay down some god damned PORN. this fic is no exception to the rule. @shakespeareanwannabe requested this back in july and she literally just asked for a cute moment between steve and dustin, sorry you got 6k words more than you bargained for 😂 but also thank you for betaing and the constant validation you're the best ily 🖤

Steve’s not sure how it even worked.

He can still remember the look on Robin’s face when you agreed, how she was speechless for almost ten minutes because she couldn’t process what had just happened.

Steve’s reaction was about the same as hers, in all honesty. He’s gotten so used to striking out that asking people out has become something of a game to him. He knows he’ll get a no, and he knows Robin will laugh her ass off at him. But what can he say? He likes putting a smile on his best friend’s face.

Needless to say, you’ve shaken him. In the best possible way. Because your answer was three letters instead of two.

And now, he's a little bit in over his head.

Or, to be more accurate, a lot in over his head.

It seems like it’s been ages since he’s gone on a date, even though it’s only been a few months at most. He feels lost, like he’s completely unlearned everything he ever knew about girls.

He hates it, despises it with every fiber of his own being, but he also knows it’s true; he needs advice. And although he’ll never admit it to the little shithead’s face, there’s no one better he can think of going to than his very own protege. Who better to remind him of his own prowess than the person who learned everything they know from him?

One look at Dustin’s smug little face and Steve almost regrets it. Almost.

“Just can’t stay away, can you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve rolls his eyes and gives the younger boy a little shove, camouflaging it with an affectionate pat on the back. “This is strictly business, Henderson.”

“Oh, is it now?” The younger boy’s voice takes on a smug tone as he folds his fingers together and leans back in his chair. “Well then, why don’t you have a seat? Step into my office.”

Steve rolls his eyes and slides into the booth, shooting a smile and a “thank you” to the kind waitress who delivers two milkshakes to their table.

Dustin takes his time and makes a meal of unwrapping his straw, feeding off of Steve’s clear impatience Steve’s fingers tap against the table, reminding himself that patience is necessary when you come to someone for a favor. It’s just that it’s Dustin, and Dustin knows exactly how to get under the older boy’s skin in the most annoying-yet-oddly-endearing fashion.

“So…” Dustin finally says after a lengthy sip of strawberry milkshake. “What brings you so humbly to me?”

“I’ve got a date.”

And Dustin, the little bastard–he laughs. A deep, rumbling belly laugh, so pure and unfiltered that the three other occupied tables in the diner pause their conversations to get a look at the boy clutching his sides.

Steve’s a little embarrassed by the attention, but even more embarrassed that Dustin’s reaction is so genuine. The fact that the idea of him having a date is so laughable is a bit of a punch to the gut. It hasn’t really been that long, has it?

When Dustin’s laughter finally dies down he realizes Steve’s face is completely serious, and it makes him giggle even more.

“Wait, you’re actually serious? Who on earth did you manage to pull?”

Steve’s nearly bashful as he says your name, and even more bashful when Dustin’s jaw visibly drops.

“No fucking way. I’d believe anyone else, but her? She’s like… hotter than Phoebe Cates. There’s no way you wouldn’t strike out with her.”

Steve’s immediately on the defensive. Is it really so hard to believe that he, former king of Hawkins High, could pull the most gorgeous girl in town?

But that’s just it. There’s really no one like you, not in his eyes. He’s admired you since freshman year and never once even tried with you because he knew he wasn’t worthy. You were always in the background–a beautiful, kind, smart, funny girl just out of his reach. Part of the reason he even asked you out was because he was so sure he would strike out. In the end, losing his confidence was exactly what he needed to pull the girl of his dreams.

And that’s why there’s so much riding on this. You’ve always been his biggest “what if”, the girl he wonders about when thinking that maybe not trying has been holding him back. And apparently, it has.

“Look, I don’t even know how it happened, okay? But she said yes, and… and I really don’t want to blow it.”

“Well duh. You’ll have to leave town if you blow it with her, you know that, right? If she doesn’t think you’re worth it, no one else in this town ever will again.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of!” Steve groans, slouching down so far in the booth that Dustin can just barely see his poor, overwhelmed face.

“Steve, listen…” Dustin’s voice takes on an almost fatherly quality, an omniscient tone that gives off the illusion of great hidden knowledge. He gets like this sometimes, and Steve’s not always sure that it is just an illusion. “Don’t let this go to your head, but you’re, like, one of the coolest guys I know. If she doesn’t like you… that’s her problem, not yours. Okay?”

Steve straightens in his seat, a little shocked to hear such kind words from a friend that he’s used to being mercilessly teased by.

“No, no, no, it’s going to your head. I take it all back. Forget I said anything.” Dustin’s hearty giggle makes Steve smile as he sets a wad of bills on the table and slides out of the booth.

“You’re not so bad Henderson, you know that?” He gives the younger boy’s full head of curls an affectionate ruffle. “Thanks, kid. I’ll radio later.”

Not that Steve didn’t have total faith in his young protege, but it’s still a relief that the pep talk turned out to be exactly what he needed to hear. Dustin’s right, after all. Steve’s worked hard to become the man he’s always wanted to be. He may not be dripping charisma or sex appeal the way he used to, but he’s much more comfortable in his own skin. That’s what counts, right?

And you really are his dream girl. The opportunity to take you out tonight, even if it ends up being your first and only date together, is an honor. He’s much less focused now on all the ways he could screw up, hyper-fixated on putting the effort in to make this the best night of your life.

That effort comes out in the carefully selected suit jacket he dons over his white button-up, the extra spritz of cologne, the careful touch-up shave to vanquish his five o’clock shadow, the extra ten minutes using the perfect amount of product in his hair so that it stays in place yet is still soft to the touch.

By the time he gets to Enzo’s (half an hour early, mind), he’s practically vibrating with nerves and anticipation. He’s never been much of an overthinker, but he sure is tonight. Is this place too much for the first date? Would you rather do something lowkey, like catch a movie or go for a walk in the park? He has to remind himself a couple of times that you agreed to this, that you wouldn’t have said yes if you weren’t interested in the arrangement.

To say he’s prepared for this is putting it lightly. He’s run through every possible scenario in his mind, gone over conversation starters and questions he wants to ask you over and over again until he knows exactly how he wants to phrase each thing.

And still, nothing could prepare him for when you walk through the door.

He has to physically restrain his jaw from dropping because in the moment he sees you, every well-planned thought and all etiquette is flushed down the proverbial pipes. You’re nothing short of breathtaking in a dress that hugs all the right curves and shows just enough cleavage to have him imagining what else there might be to see. Your hair is pinned back out of your face, eyes framed by just the slightest bit of makeup to make the color of your irises pop. He swears he’s never seen a shade quite like them. It’s like you move in slow motion as you approach him–he sees the entrance of the smoking hot love interest in every romantic comedy, complete with smoke and fireworks, as you move towards the table.

And then some sense of decorum returns to his addled brain, and he quickly shoots up so he can pull out your chair for you like a proper gentleman. He catches just the slightest whiff of your perfume, and he’s a goner. He’s ready to sign his life away to you, to yank his own heart out of his chest to offer to your careful hands.

He has to give his head a shake to compose himself before he goes any further off the deep end. No one’s ever thoroughly shaken him the way you have, and it’s been a matter of thirty seconds. It’s almost intimidating, the effect you have on him.

“You look… incredible,” he fumbles as he takes his seat across from you. “I mean, you always do, but… wow.”

The shy giggle you emit tugs at a heartstring he didn’t even know he had.

“Thank you,” you tell him with a genuine smile. “You clean up very well yourself.”

“I do like to put in some effort every once in a while.” He flashes the most charming smile he can muster, and just like that he’s back. His resolve to impress you is reinforced tenfold. You’ve shaken him, and it’s such an unfamiliar feeling that he’s practically bumbling. He wants to shake you just as badly.

The food’s delicious, and the conversation’s even better. He has a track record for taking out a more–for lack of a better term–bimbo-y type, and that’s definitely not you. You’re smart, you’re witty, but you don’t make him feel like an idiot. He’s so taken with you that he doesn’t even notice that three hours have passed until he looks around the room and notices that every table is now empty and bussed.

The waiter delivers the check, and Steve notices you gnawing on your lip.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, trying not to be too prying.

“I don’t want this to be over yet.”

Steve smiles. He’s got you; hook, line, and sinker. He’s never been so sure of anything, and that surprises him. He’s used to dates who are easy to read and even easier to take home, and those aren’t the impressions you’ve been giving him. To know that you’re feeling exactly what he’s feeling is a huge confidence boost.

“I don’t either.”

Your hand is so small compared to his. That’s all he can think about as he strolls next to you, his fingers intertwined with yours. He’s always considered hand-holding to be child’s play, it’s never excited him before the way it does in this moment with you.

It’s pitch black in the park and he can hear the overlapping chirping of summer cicadas and grasshoppers, the perfect background noise now that the conversation has died down. It’s less about getting to know each other at this point and more just basking in each other’s presence, prolonging the inevitable because neither one of you can bear to call it a night when it’s been such a good few hours.

You’re shocked, to say the very least. Steve certainly has a reputation, and it’s not for being a romantic. Yet everything tonight has flown in the face of all the rumors you’ve been hearing since junior high. You figured he’d be a fun fling, and probably only one night at that–you’d made your peace with the idea. To find that he’s kind, considerate, funny, and can match your intellect and quick wit… it’s a very pleasant surprise. And that’s what has you out well past a decent hour, giddy over simply holding his hand like you’re a damned school girl all over again.

“I should probably let you go home,” Steve sighs wistfully. He hates to be the one to bring it up, but you’re on your fifth lap around the park and about to circle back to where your car is parked so now seems the best time.

You’re chewing your lip again, a thoughtful habit that makes his heart pound just a little bit harder.

Here’s the thing: you’re really not the bold type. You act confident, sure, but in practice it’s a lot more difficult for you. So no one’s more surprised than you are when you say, “You could come home with me. If you want.”

Steve’s definitely shocked, too. Less shocked at your proposition and more at the fact that he’s tempted to decline. Because no matter how much he’s been running through the back of his mind what you might look like under that gorgeous dress, he doesn’t want this to end there. For the first time in his life, he wants to find more meaning than sex out of a relationship. He doesn’t want to take you home and never see you again. He wants to take you out again, and again, and again, and again after that. He sees a future, for once, that doesn’t look dim and hopeless. That fact alone scares the shit out of him.

He realizes he’s waited way too long to reply and fumbles for an answer. “Of course I want to. I’d be an idiot not to. But…”

You chew that cursed bottom lip of yours again, and Steve has to focus on the obvious cue you’re giving him rather than the fact that he wants to be the next set of teeth around that lip.

He stops in his tracks, gently pulling on your hand to face him so he can take your other hand in his free one. “It’s not a bad but. I mean, I’m going to go home kicking myself for saying no because I really honestly do want to… well, y’know. But… I want to do this right with you. I want to take you out again. I want to get to know you and see where this goes. I can’t… I don’t want this to end tonight.”

He’s eternally grateful for how dark it is as he feels a flush consume his face. He can’t remember a time he’s been so honest and open, especially on a first date; but the look on your face tells him he’s done something right.

“Okay,” you tell him, squeezing his hands in yours. “You… honestly have no clue how nice it is to hear that.”

“Of course,” he continues, “if you just want me for my body, no hard feelings.”

You laugh at that, genuinely laugh, and Steve thinks it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

“No,” you reassure him. “No, I… I wanna see where this goes, too.”

You’re stopped only a few paces from your car, and Steve knows with a twist of his gut that this is the end of the night. It makes his gut turn with disappointment, but also with anticipation of when he’ll see you next. Already, his mind is flooding with ideas of where he can take you and what you’ll do together.

You drop one of his hands so you can walk but keep a tight grip on the other until you get to your driver’s side door, hesitating outside because you’re still not ready for this to be over. It takes every ounce of restraint he has not to kiss you, unsure of if that would be moving too fast.

Thankfully, you make the call yourself. Leaning up on your toes, hands against his chest for balance, you press your lips against his and he has to summon every mite of strength not to moan. No one’s ever tasted so sweet, molded against him so perfectly. His hands drift from your shoulders down your arms, coming to rest on your waist as he pulls you just a little bit closer. It’s a fight of will not to overstep, to break off the kiss before it can become too heated. His mind is spinning by the time you break away. He’s aching for more, and he hopes you are too. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

Your sweet voice replays in his mind all night, long after you’ve gotten into your car and driven away, long after he’s returned to his own vehicle and pulled the radio out from under the driver’s seat to check in with Dustin, long after he arrives home and soaks in a cold shower for longer than he probably should. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get your voice out of his head, and he couldn’t be any less upset about it.

He practically counts down the minutes until he sees you again. This time, he has a little less restraint. He greets you with a kiss–a sweet peck and a hand on your waist that leaves you aching for even more.

It’s a movie this time, a chance to enjoy each other’s company on a night you’re both too tired from working to engage in heavy conversation and getting to know each other further.

It starts with sharing popcorn, then holding hands, then somewhere along the way the film is completely forgotten in favor of your lips meeting his. His breath grows heavy as his hands hold your face, committing you to memory while resisting the urge to explore further. Your hands, meanwhile, are firmly on his thighs, gripping tightly to keep yourself steady as you do everything you can to keep yourself from crawling into his lap.

He whispers your name, and your grip on him tightens.

“W-we shouldn’t…” he murmurs, then gives up on the futile attempt at finishing his sentence so that he can pull you even deeper into the kiss as his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip.

It takes everything in him not to moan when your lips eagerly part to accept him.

Needless to say, once the credits start rolling you’re both more than a little hot under the collar.

“Let me buy you dinner,” Steve suggests as he woefully unwinds himself from you. Declining doesn’t even flicker through your mind as a possibility.

It’s not Enzo’s this time, but it doesn’t have to be. He could set a soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich in front of you at this point and you’d still thank him for it. This time around, you’re not really as interested in the cuisine as you are just simply getting through this meal to what’s next. Because what’s next is all you’ve been thinking about since you walked through the doors the night of that very first date and saw Steve Harrington wearing a blazer for you. It’s a level of effort he’s definitely not known for–in fact, he’s built a reputation for putting in so little effort that it nearly made your jaw drop to see him trying. And it certainly made your heart skip a beat.

But then again, the Steve before you carelessly wolfing down his bacon cheeseburger seems very different from the Steve you knew in high school, even if you didn’t know that iteration as intimately as this one. That one was cool, collected, snarky and pompous and maddeningly desirable.

This Steve, your Steve, is nearly an exact foil. Much less cocky, a little less confident but more self-assured in the ways that actually hold meaning, less worried about what the people around him are observing of him than what you’re observing of him. He seems happier, more carefree, more eager to please others than simply himself. He’s grown so much in such a short amount of time, and you feel proud just for having the honor to witness it. Significantly more proud to be on the receiving end of his affections now that they hold the kind of value you’ve always wished they would.

He looks up and notices you staring at him while lost in thought, a small smile spreading across his lips as your eyes quickly dart away.

“What’s on your mind?” He questions as he licks a stray bit of ketchup from his thumb.

“Just… happy I’m here. With you.” It brings heat to your cheeks to admit it, but you don’t want him to go unappreciated in this moment.

It’s the right thing to say, because his smile grows even wider. “I’m happy too,” he admits. “I… I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while. Could never work up the courage, I guess.”

“Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was intimidated by me?” You say it with a mock gasp, but your shock is more genuine than you give off. Never in a million years would you have thought that he, the man who could have whoever he wanted, would be worried over you saying no to him. It’s almost comical, especially considering the way you practically threw yourself at him on your first date. Of course then, you had no clue how much he’d developed as a person. You’re almost ashamed of your behavior now, as if you might’ve inadvertently been taking advantage of the new and improved Steve who isn’t just into you for a hookup.

He shrugs, nearly bashful at your teasing. “Never figured I was good enough for you. So I didn’t bother to try.”

You’re genuinely curious now, leaning in a little closer and brushing your fingers against his hand resting atop the diner counter. “What made you change your mind?”

“Honestly? I was so sure you’d say no that I asked just to give Robin a chuckle. She loves watching me get shot down.”

That makes you frown, and he’s quick to backtrack. “I wanted to! I just… I’ve had a bad track record lately. And you’re… you’re you. You’re the last person I should be worthy of.”

His eyes are quick to avert from your gaze, bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he contemplates whether he’s said too much.

“Steve…” you properly grab his hand now in the hopes that it’ll bring his eyes back to you, and it works. “You’re the only person I’ve deemed worthy in a long time, honestly.”

Steve Harrington is scaldingly warm. It’s one of many sensations forcing your mind into overdrive as he lays you delicately across the backseat of his beemer, one hand cushioning the back of your head while simultaneously deepening the already heated kiss and the other balancing his weight to lean over you in the cramped space without completely crushing you.

Your fingers tangle themselves into his soft brown locks, tugging ever-so-slightly as his tongue slips between your parted lips. He’s an eager explorer and you’re more than happy to let him take the lead, to show you all the skill you’ve heard so many whispers about.

You let out an involuntary moan as he wedges himself even closer to you, his body heat soaking through all the layers of clothing between the two of you and warming you all the way to your very bones.

You’re practically aching, ready to beg, and he knows it the second you wrap your legs around his waist in an attempt to get him even closer. If there’s one thing Steve Harrington’s good at, it’s assessing your needs. He pulls away just the slightest bit to adjust his position so he can get closer, wedging a knee between your legs to press right against your core, and it makes you jolt back against the car door at the same time his head hits the roof just a bit too hard.

You both pause for a moment, the reality of your situation hitting you simultaneously, and then you’re laughing. It’s light and edged with unresolved want, but it’s enough to fracture the tension of the moment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Shouldn’t have gotten so carried away. This isn’t how I want to do this.”

“No?”

“No. You deserve way better than this old beater,” he chuckles, then leans down to kiss you. This kiss is lighter, no longer edged with tension and lust. He kisses you just to kiss you–there’s no end goal to it this time.

“What could be better than a BMW?” You tease lightly, trying to reassure him that you’re less disappointed than you really feel.

“You know. Something romantic. A proper bed, rose petals, maybe a few candles…”

“I don’t need all that,” you try to tell him.

“I think I do,” he admits. And that’s enough to pull you back, to remind you that you need to be patient and grateful that he values you so much as to want to do this whole thing properly. That his affection is something to be cherished, not taken for granted.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to be pushy.”

“Please don’t apologize.” He hesitates to untangle himself from you, even though he knows he needs to. “I want this just as bad. I just… I need it to be right.”

“As long as I have you, it’ll be right,” you reassure. “I hope you know that.”

He presses his lips to yours again, a slow and passionate kiss that he hopes communicates every bit of adoration he feels for you in this moment.

“It’ll be perfect. I swear,” he vows. You’ve never believed anything more whole-heartedly than you do this promise. 

~~~

“Wait, you’re telling me that you literally had her under you and you stopped?” Robin’s halfway through chewing a mouthful of popcorn and the absolute carnage inside her agape mouth makes Steve give her a light shove.

“It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full, y’know.”

“It’s not polite to blue-ball either!” She shoots back in utter disbelief.

“How do you think I felt? I was this close,” he holds his thumb and index finger barely millimeters apart, “to sealing the deal.”

She just shakes her head. “You, Steve Harrington, are a genuine, bonafide idiot.”

She’s not telling him anything he doesn’t know. It’s been three days since the aborted fling in the backseat of his car, and he’s barely thought of anything else. Especially since you’ve been away from home both of the past nights when he’s called. He’s starting to worry you’ve gotten the wrong impression, that he’s not interested or that he’s toying with you. It’s the exact opposite. He wants nothing more than to know you in the most intimate way he can know you. But he needs it to be flawless. He needs it to be well thought-out and precisely planned, the most romantic event in the history of copulation. He won’t settle for anything less, not with you. You deserve perfection, and he won’t give you anything less.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he tries to explain. “I want to more than anything. But if you’re gonna go to town on a goddess, you need to do some worshiping, y’know? I don’t feel like I’ve done enough.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you hear this admission. You weren’t sure what to expect–worried that maybe visiting him at work was an overstep–but hearing him call you a goddess certainly wasn’t on your radar.

“You’ve done more than enough, Steve.”

The sound of your voice makes Steve jump and whirl around, oblivious to Robin’s sly smirk and mumbled excuse of needing to attend to something in the back room.

“H-hey!” He squeaks, then clears his throat in an attempt to get his tone back to its normal octave. “What… what’re you doing here?”

“Oh, just came to pick up a tape,” you tease. “But mostly I came to see you.”

“Me?” He takes a moment to ground himself, loosening his too-tight grip on the counter. “I mean… I tried to call you last night. And the night before?”

Your brow furrows. “Really? I didn’t get your message.”

Because he didn’t leave one. He clears his throat and says, “I just figured you were busy.”

“Oh, well, I volunteer at the animal shelter on Wednesdays, and last night was my friend’s 21st birthday. I’m sorry I missed you, though.”

He can tell that you’re really remorseful, and it makes his heart squeeze in his chest a little bit. He plays it off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “No, it’s fine, it’s… are you free tonight?”

You giggle at the abrupt redirect, but he’s played directly into your hand.

“Yeah, actually. I was hoping maybe you could help me pick out something for us to watch tonight? If you’re free too, that is.”

His dark eyes blink slowly, wondering if you’re aware of the implication behind your completely innocent words. You. Him. A movie. Alone. It’s enough to make his head spin. 

“I’ve never been freer.”

Conveniently, you’ve come in close enough to the end of his shift that by the time you’re done combing through Family Video’s vast selection for the perfect film to use as background noise, Steve’s ready to clock out. And since you walked over after finishing your own shift at the local dollar store up the street, it works out perfectly that he can give you a ride straight to his place.

You only glance in the backseat once, but it’s enough to get your mind churning. Remembering the feeling of him, of what could’ve been. Anticipating what will be.

“Parents home?” You ask as he pulls into his driveway and parks, trying to sound casual and utterly failing.

“Nope,” he answers easily. “Took a detour to Cabo on their way home from Hawaii.”

“Sounds glamorous. You opted out?”

“I’d rather be here in Hawkins with you than on a beach alone anyday.”

He must know the effect his words have on you. Surely he can hear the way your heart picks up pace as he looks at you with those dark, affectionate eyes.

“So… this is home.” He waves a hand around the entrance hall like it’s a shabby nightmare, not the grandest house you’ve ever been in.

“I’m starting to understand why they used to call you King Steve.”

He’s almost embarrassed at the mention of that old high school nickname. “Trust me, this isn’t why.”

“Well, a palace does befit you,” you tell him with a smirk.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush.” The wink he shoots you makes your gut erupt with butterflies, a sensation that would normally make you a little uncomfortable. With Steve, you’d take the butterflies all day long.

He gives you a cursory and oversimplified tour of the ground floor before leading you upstairs, and suddenly he’s sheepish. It’s been a few moons since he shared his room with a girl, so the nerves are justified. But that’s too simple an explanation. You’re not a girl. You’re his dream, his muse, his–to re-quote himself–goddess. No one he’s ever cared about more has stood where you’re standing, and it terrifies him.

He hides it well, though, busying himself with making a comfortable nest for you in his bed before setting up the television set on the dresser against the far wall. If ever there was a time to regain his confidence, it’s now. He curses whatever god there is that he feels like a fumbling virgin in this moment when nothing is even happening, when just the anticipation is enough to make his hands tremble.

There’s no more stalling once you’re comfortable and the tape is set to play. His heart pounds to the steady and frantic rhythm of one of those heavy rock songs Dustin listens to now as he sits next to you, hands itching to take a hold of you but also eager not to move too fast.

Almost as if you can sense his hesitation, you reach over and take his hand. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

And so he does, and the second his lips slot to yours all the worry and anxiety is gone. He’s Steve Harrington, and he knows what he’s doing. You’re you, and he’s wanted this for so long. After years of being lost, he deserves to finally find the love he’s been looking for. He’s never been so sure of anything as he is, in this moment of initial clarity, that he’s in love with you.

He can’t say it, not yet. He’s sure it’s too soon, and the last thing he wants is to scare you off. But he’s determined to prove it to you, and the only way besides words is action.

He can handle action.

There’s no more restraint or hesitation behind his touch. This is it, this is what you’ve both been waiting for. There’s no way in hell he’s not going to deliver now. He’s desperate for you, and it shows in the heavy way his hands drag along your curves whilst committing you to memory; the way his tongue languidly swipes across your bottom lip; the way he shifts effortlessly to hover over you even while deepening the kiss.

He’s overwhelming every single sense of yours in such a sudden fashion, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. Especially not when his hips meet yours in a deliciously slow grind and you finally get your first little taste of what’s to come.

He keens at the little breathless whimpers that leave your mouth, reading every single signal you provide him with and accommodating each. Moaning? He continues what he’s doing, intensifying if deemed necessary. Whining? He adds something, because he knows it’s hard to use your words when you’re wanting so badly. Squirming? He pays attention to the direction of your movement and pulls away or presses closer depending on necessity. It’s down to science for him; he only really cared about extracurriculars in school anyway, and this was certainly his favorite.

But then he comes to his senses–while he doesn’t pull away completely, he needs to clear his mind and he does so by letting up a bit, allowing the kiss to become languid and the heat to extinguish a bit. It only makes you whine more, and Steve curses his damned formula. You shouldn’t be part of an equation. You’re everything he’s ever wanted, and every aspect of your relationship so far has been a new experience for him. He needs this particular activity to be different too. No formulas or calculations. Just you and him and whatever happens naturally.

Clearly you can hear the cogs in his mind turning. You pull away with a concerned look on your face and ask, “what’s on your mind?”

Now’s not the time to hide anything from you, he reasons with himself. He wants to be authentic with you, and part of that means telling the truth, even if it’s not something particularly comfortable.

“I’m… falling into a routine. And I don’t want to,” he admits. He sighs and leans back, one hand dragging through his shaggy and disheveled hair, sure that he’s going to ruin the mood if he carries on like this. But he refuses to back away from the truth now. “This… it’s always been like…. Like a series of checkpoints. Boxes to check, y’know? Kiss you, take your clothes off, make you come, fuck you, say goodnight. And I don’t want… I can’t let it be like that with you. I need this to be… real. Not just some list to cross shit off of. I don’t–”

Steve takes a long, shaky breath before he can ramble on anymore. Never has someone so thoroughly gotten under his skin. He’s never felt so insecure, so unsure. It’s terrifying. The most terrifying part of it all, though, is that he likes it. He loves the feeling of the unfamiliarity, of doing this right. In a way, it’s almost like he’s doing all of this for the first time all over again. You’re his first date, first kiss, first time. All because he’s changed so drastically, because he’s not even remotely the same person he was just a year or two ago.

Your hands are so gentle as you cup his face, tenderly forcing his eyes to meet yours.

“Steve… we don’t have to do this, not if you’re not ready. I want to be with you, not just for this, but for everything. Everything that comes with you… that’s what I want. There’s no pressure. I would wait a hundred years for you to be ready so long as I could still have you.”

Steve’s breath shakes a little as he comprehends the gravity of your words. There’s nothing he can say that can properly convey the gratitude he holds for your words, so he says nothing at all.

In his silence, you continue. “You’re more than a body, you know that, right? You’re funny, and kind, and smart. Yes, smart, don’t look at me like that. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted to be close to. I just… I want to spend time with you. I want to watch stupid movies and eat diner food until we get sick and laugh at your stupid jokes… and maybe make love with you, sure, but that’s pretty low on the list as long as I just get to be with you.”

He doesn’t notice the tears until it’s too late–by the time you’re wiping them from the apples of his cheeks it’s far too late to take them back or hide them. With anyone else, he would be angry; at himself, for allowing himself to be so vulnerable. For allowing himself to be so emotional. With you, though… with you, his emotions make him feel strong. 

For the first time since you walked into his life, he’s not scared of losing you.

“I love you,” he tells you. His voice is firm, as fierce as the kiss he presses to your mouth, as powerful as the waves of emotion vibrating through his very soul. “I love you so much.”

He barely gives you a chance to reply, as keen as he is on physically proving his love to you through myriad passionate kisses that leave you breathless. But when you finally get the chance to use your voice after a barrage of kisses that start to trail down your neck, you whisper, “I love you too.”

Four words, and they’re all he needs to quell every worry or fear he’s had over doing this relationship properly with you. Why should he have to worry, after all, when he’s already succeeded? 

“I love you,” he whispers as he trails down your neck and to your chest, leaving tender love bites on the tops of your breasts once he’s properly liberated you from your shirt.

“I love you,” he mumbles through sucking a mark a few inches north of your navel.

“I love you,” he murmurs when his lips meet your waistband. His fingers make quick work of your pants as he scatters kisses over your stomach, unable to part his mouth from your skin for even a moment.

“I love you,” he affirms as his mouth meets your hot and waiting core.

There’s no more checklist. Because this isn’t simply sex, as it always has been for him in the past. This is love-making: the kind of sappy shit they talk about in all those Hallmark movies that he rolls his eyes at the sight of. It’s like losing his virginity all over again.

He understands the old adage of “the other half” now. You’ve ripped him to shreds and sewed him back together with strands of yourself. The end result is better than the original ever could’ve even dreamed to be. He’s sure he couldn’t possibly live without you now, that losing you would be like ripping out fresh and unhealed stitches.

You’re not sure how long he camps out between your trembling thighs, but it’s long enough for you to lose count of the number of times he pulls you apart–first with his languid tongue; then his long, curved fingers; then a combination of the two. It’s like he loses himself completely in your pleasure, not a single thought in his head except what he can do to bring you to the edge again, and again, and again.

You’re trembling with oversensitivity by the time his own needs overtakes his desperation to unravel you. So out of it that you feel drunk, like Steve’s laced you with absolute bliss so pure you can barely stand it.

You’re hardly present enough to appreciate the adonis before you when he finally undoes his own jeans, and that’s a damned shame because he’s so damned pretty. Long and thick, flushed at the girthy tip from his hitherto unacknowledged arousal. His lean thighs are pure muscle, and the dark thatch of hair that trails south from his navel makes your mouth water. He’s everything you dreamed he’d be and so much more.

“Steve…” You don’t know what else you can possibly say. All you can do is vainly hope that one whine of his name can convey all of the heat, frustration, tension, and above all longing, swirling through your head in the moment.

He breaks from his lustful reverie for a moment to smile as he leans in for another heated kiss; you think it’s safe to say you’ve gotten your point across.

He slows from his mania for a few moments, lips tender as they explore against yours once more. These kisses are languid, slow, yet no less heated. Even now, he’s trying to prove his love to you. As if you could somehow not believe him after everything that’s happened, every small moment you’ve spent with him witnessing how hard he’s trying for you.

Somewhere in between kisses he manages to wrestle a condom out of his nightstand, miraculously without ever breaking from your lips.

Now is where you cut in, finally fading out of your over-pleasured fugue and back to reality. You take the little foil packet from his hands and tear it open, eager for this small chance to finally get a hand or two on him.

He lets out the most gorgeous noise you’ve ever heard as you roll the rubber down his length; a deep, earthy, diaphragmatic moan just from the simple touch of your hand. You want to touch him even more, to wrest out more of those sounds from him; to see what other undiscovered responses you can pull from him as you pleasure him. But you know that now, he needs to set the pace. He believes he has something to prove, and you’re more than happy to let him prove it. There will be plenty of other opportunities to have him completely at your mercy, anyway.

There’s no way to describe the feeling as he slides into you. It’s more than bliss, more than euphoria, more than earth-shattering toe-curling mind-altering pleasure. It’s nothing more than feeling whole. Of never knowing you were missing a part of yourself until it’s suddenly returned to you. Of never knowing what home felt like until this exact moment.

Maybe it’s overdramatic. Maybe it’s outlandish and outrageous and a million other adjectives to feel something so overpowering and overwhelming from such a seemingly simple physical act. But in this moment, you know you’ve never felt anything as right as being connected to Steve in this way.

His lips hardly leave yours while he rolls his hips against you, easily finding the perfect angle to make your breath hitch and your hands scrabble for purpose.

It admittedly doesn’t last long, but it doesn’t have to. Once you start to tighten and pulse around him, he’s a goner–deep purposeful thrusts turning to hard, arrhythmic plunges in desperate search of release.

You’re still shaking from your high when he slowly pulls out of you. He keeps you close, arms linked around your waist and dragging you to lay on his chest as he flops back against the pillows. 

You’re not sure how long you lay like that, with Steve whispering sweet nothings into your hair and pressing absentminded kisses to your face. All you can really focus on is one all-consuming, life-changing fact.

“I love you, Steve Harrington.”

“I love you too,” he whispers back. He kisses you again, just a simple peck on your lips, and you know that he’s telling the truth. It’s an eternal truth: one that can’t be changed or altered in any way. Steve Harrington loves you with every fibre of his being, and he will for the rest of his life–even if you’re both blissfully unaware of it for now.

THE END

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[deathbxnny]

So remember that prompt i sent to you? Well here’s the request! Can i request Neuvilette, Zhongli, and Dainsleif meeting the alternate version of their dead lover? Like how would they act around the reader during their respective Archon quest? (Example, Zhongli acting weird around the reader when they were gathering materials for Rex Lapis’s funeral)

Context:

The said character used to have a lover that had died a gruesome death centuries ago. And despite the years passing by, he still hasn't really gotten over their death. He wishes he could see his dead lover again and that wish came true as when he met the traveler, he met them too but it wasn't the one had fallen in love with. It was an alternate version of his dead lover.

The reader is an alternate version of said character's dead lover. They're from another universe (maybe HSR?) and somehow got isekaied to Teyvat. Fortunately, they got dropped at the same beach Traveler and Paimon was resting in the prologue. After talking with the traveler and realizing they are in another universe, the reader decides to join the traveler in traveling Teyvat and try to find a way to go back home. Although the last thing they expect was an ancient man acting strange around them.

(Side note: The characters are not in love with the reader (who’s the alt version of their dead lover) as he did not fall for this version of his lover. Its more of a longing? Like “so close yet so far” kind of case? I hope that makes sense)

- Flower Anon 🌸

Hello Flower anon! I have finally found the time to do your request, so I hope you like this and thank you for your great ask!!<33

(Also, due to the fact that I barely remember most story quests, I've decided to generalize these a little-)

Content: Reader is dead, past romantic relationships, doppelgangers, vague descriptions of readers death, angst, hurt/no comfort, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!!

((Not proofread))

》NEUVILLETTE

Neuvillette took a double take, a really obvious one that made the Traveler and Paimon glance at eachother in confusion at his strong reaction. His usually calm and collected persona slipped, the disbelief spreading across his face before he tried to hide it behind a cough quickly. His heart was beating out of his chest, thousands of questions plaguing his mind at once, until you nervously asked him if he was okay.

It took him only a small moment to collect himself, a deep exhale releasing all the grief, horror, and pain with it. He smiled calmly once more, chuckling as he waved off your concerns. "I felt ill." He'd say, not elaborating any further as he asked you to please continue telling him about your mission to expose the truth behind his own archon. He doesn't react further than that and stays professional to his bestest ability.

He knows it's not really you, after all. And he refuses to hurt himself any further than your death already had. This was a mere coincidence, a cruel joke of the universe that made him want to laugh bitterly.

Instead, however, the rain poured down for a week straight, despite his best efforts to stay strong.

》ZHONGLI

Zhongli doesn't have a visible reaction and strictly keeps it that way when meeting you for the first time whilst you were helping him with the "funeral". This alternative version of you seemed to be the same on the surface. But he could easily tell that you still weren't his lover that he lost so many years ago. And he supposed that it was for the best to let the past go through befriending you at least.

He observes you closely, often finding himself still reminiscing in the small actions you do share with his original muse, whilst he delves into deeper conversations with you. But that's his limit. Whether out of the respect for the dead or his need to distance himself from the tragedy that once befell you, he didn't know. But he just couldn't interact with you further than that.

He simply watches you from afar instead, as you prepare everything for the grimm festivities, his heart secretly yearning for another awfully familiar smile his way despite everything.

》DAINSLEIF

Dainsleif felt breathless at the sight of you, and for a moment, he wondered if he had imagined you. A past he desperately held onto drifted through his mind, your image perfectly clear in his memory, his heart aching desperately with the need to hold you again after the fall of your nation. Unsaid, regret filled words burned on his tongue before he swallowed them as swift as the emotions that overwhelmed him.

He ignored Paimons' inquiry over his somehow even paler face, before turning to the important mission at hand. That wasn't you, he reminded himself grimly. This doppelganger that seemed so much like you was just a pure coincidence, nothing more, nothing less. And yet those reminders did little to quell the uneasiness and ill feeling in his stomach. The memory of your death replayed over and over again endlessly for all eternity to come.

And even if it did happen to be a reincarnation of you after all, Dainsleif would have still refused to reach out to you more than he already has through the unknowing traveler and Paimon. He didn't see himself as deserving to be in your presence. That privilege had been taken from him the moment you took your last breath.

[verus-veritas]

Died and Gone to Heaven

Reworked caption story by RookCaps

"Welcome back to heaven, Atreus." The enormous scantily clothed man boomed. Jeremy had just awoken after he thought he had died saving a man by pushing him from the path of a bus hurtling towards him.

"Who... who are you?" Jeremy asked. His voice was not his own, it had a deep and masculine quality to it that was totally alien to him.

"Ah, amnesia - I am Kyrion, King of The Gods. Don't worry my son, it is normal to have temporary memory loss after living as a mortal for so long."

Son? Mortal? Is this man a god? Who is this Atreus person? Jeremy thought as he looked down for the first time, seeing the absolutely perfect adonis body below him covered only by a simple fabric that would not be considered appropriate by even the most risqué individual. Oh my god! I must be this Atreus. The hospital must have me on some crazy drugs for me to be tripping like this.

"Oh my son, my prince, I can see you are distraught. Here, I will bring you to your quarters to recover." The huge man grabbed hold of Jeremy, lifting him effortlessly. Jeremy felt like a child being cradled in Kyrion's arms.

The God King left Jeremy in a room nearby. Overwhelmed, he lay down to sleep, trying to avoid thinking about the odd yet incredible sensations coming from his god-like body. As Jeremy drifted off to sleep, he hoped he would reawaken free from this crazy fever dream.

— This must be real then. I've tried to find a more sensible explanation but all evidence points to the crazy fact that I am now in possession of this heavenly body. Jeremy had awoken to find himself still in the prince of gods, Atreus's body. He ran his hands all over those perfectly sculpted muscles, every touch leaving his new body feeling invigorated and powerful. As he grabbed his thickened and hardened manhood and thrust into it, he let out a powerful roar while golden semen coated his entire chest. After some more incredibly pleasurable self exploration of his new body he had turned to trying to find out what had happened.

He looked around his bare room for information but could not find any information at all. It was only when he walked to look in the mirror that he realized that it wasn't merely a mirror at all. It seemed to be a magical artefact of some kind, displaying whatever information he wished to see. It was there that he had learned more about this new domain. He found that Gods and Goddesses were in fact real. They had created humanity as an experiment and entertained themselves by interfering with the mortals as they saw fit. All human religion was based on one or many of the Deity's that existed in this heaven. Recently, the last couple thousand years, Kyrion had restricted Gods and Goddesses from interfering with humans directly - only he was allowed to do so and he chose to do so rarely. Punishment for Gods consisted of banishing them to live as mortals temporarily, usually for one to fifteen lifetimes. There were only 138 Gods and Goddesses, reproduction is strictly controlled by the God King.

After the brief history lesson on what seemed to be the origin of all religion Jeremy knew of, he turned to trying to figure out how he even ended up here. He found he was in the body of Prince Atreus, son of God King Kyrion. Atreus would inherit the throne if Kyrion was to die. No God had died since Kyrion had taken control, as only a Godkiller weapon could end a God's life and the new regulations put in place had prevented such weapons from being created.

Jeremy wondered if this magic mirror artefact could recall the accident that had led to this whole situation, when he had pushed that man out of the way of the bus. The mirror immediately responded to his thoughts, displaying the street he had been on that day. Just before the bus barrelled towards the oblivious hunk, who appeared to be a more human version of his current body, time slowed down.

He saw a gold glowing beam extending vertically above the scene of the impending accident, the handsome man had a silvery ethereal trail extending from his body - slowly being pulled up by the golden light. Jeremy saw himself shove the man out of the way, splatting into a bloody mess on the pavement. The man's silvery soul floated back into his muscular body while a similar, albeit much dimmer, blue ethereal mist left Jeremy’s broken body. His own soul was vacuumed up where Atreus's had meant to go.

Jeremy sat down, realizing the gravity of the situation. Should he tell Kyrion that he was not the son he appeared to be? Should he just keep quiet? He wasn't sure how the Gods would react if they knew a mortal was now in possession of one of their immortal bodies.

Distraught, he sat down in the chair beside him. He felt an odd solid object press against his beefy leg. Pulling at the cushion, he found a small glowing dagger hidden beneath the folds. Gripping it he felt an awesome power flowing through it. What does this mean?

Jeremy noticed a blinking emerald crystal in the hilt of the dagger. He rubbed his rugged finger across the gem, a strange gold light emanated from the crystal, producing an ethereal message in the air:

Mortal,

I was able to place your soul in the Prince's body without the detection of the

immortals. Not even your new father, the tyrannical Tyrion, has realized my deception. For one thousand years I have plotted his demise so I can take control as I deserved. He is the bastard son of Khronus, not me! I have one simple task for you, mortal. If you succeed, I will leave you in Atreus's body to rule by my side as my personal guard. You will no longer be a mere mortal, but a god. My task is simple, use the dagger I have left for you and plunge it into Kyrion's heart. I have scheduled a meeting with him this evening. You will join the meeting and murder him while he is distracted. He will never suspect his dim-witted son to betray him. Do this, and you will be rewarded.

Mishara, God of Deception

Jeremy didn't know what to do. The offer was enticing, he could be a god!. He just wasn't sure if he wanted to give up his integrity to be immortal, and he definitely didn't want to be this power-hungry Mishara's personal plaything.

He had only been among the gods for a day and he was already involved in their murderous and aristocratic politics. How could these super beings be so primitive? I guess we are created in their image, but we seemed to have evolved past this archaic style of government, Jeremy thought.

Hours later, Jeremy accompanied God King Kyrion to meet Mishara. Jeremy observed the two arguing about the state of human-god affairs. He could tell that this debate had been had before.

When the debate became more heated, Kyrion arose to his massive height to look down upon the God of Deception. His back was turned to Jeremy, so this was his opportunity to kill the king and keep this god-like body for himself.

He removed the dagger that had been hidden underneath the fabrics and raised it above his head.

Jeremy hesitated for a moment, thinking about what he intended to do, then stepped past Kyrion and plunged the God Killer dagger into Mishara's chest. Mishara's face twisted in shock, shouting, "You traitorous mortal!" The god fell to the ground, life leaving him as golden blood flowed from his chest.

"What have you done, Atreus? What mortal was Mishara talking about?" Kyrion asked with an edge to his voice, he did not know why his dim-witted son had done what he had done. Not trusting himself to speak, Jeremy poked the dagger's emerald; Mishara's message reappeared for Kyrion to read.

"So you are not my son, you are a human? I am surprised a mere human did not give in to their greed to steal an immortal body. You are more just than many gods, as evidenced by Mishara's betrayal. You deserve a reward." The God King rubbed his chin. "You will take my son's place as prince, heir to the throne."

"What! But what about your son? He will die a mortal?" Jeremy asked, as he questioned if immortality really was worth the freedom.

"Was being a mortal so bad that a god should not live as one? Atreus was not suited for the throne, he was as dim and stubborn as he was handsome and strong; he is better suited to be a mortal man. He had voluntarily become mortal as a vacation from the pressure of his position. He abandoned his duty as prince; no, you are humble and just, more fit for the throne than he ever could be."

Jeremy knew he could not argue with the God King, he had to accept what he had been given. He was now Atreus, God and Prince, heir to the throne of gods and goddesses. It would not take long before he came to love the glory of his immaculate body of a literal god. His to enjoy for the foreseeable eternity.

Hey everyone! Hope you've all been well! As for myself I've been feeling better health-wise, and I'm finally getting more time for writing again! I can assure you that the writing itch never left my body, as I've made a list of stories I'm planning on finishing in the foreseeable future! Stay tuned, guys! /Verus