#something about locking away one’s feelings maybe ?

[lovieku]

obvious ⋆ jeon jeongguk

you lose your virginity to jeongguk, the only boy you’d ever trust with such weight. and what you both feel for each other couldn’t be more obvious.

based on this ask

pairings: bookstore employee!jk x virgin!fem reader

genre: smut, strangers to friends to lovers

ratings: +18 / mdi

warnings: lower case intended, porn with some plot, mutual pining, age gap (4 years), first time, dry humping, tit play (small boobs lover jk!!!), oral (f receiving), fingering, hand job, size kink, protected sex, missionary, cowgirl, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, sooo much praise, and pet names, jeongguk is so so loving and caring, sm fluff hehe, bit of angst maybe? but lovey dovey confession <33

word count: 12.9k

a/n: aaaa this is so silly and rushed but theyre so cute and i had to do something about it. ps: this is my first time writing smut, hope it’s not embarassing Help ..any feedback is appreciated 👩🏻‍💻

you met jeon jeongguk at your favorite bookstore. the one tucked away in the quieter part of town, hidden in the shadow, squeezed between a small café and a vintage shop with an unassuming facade. it’s not the kind of place that draws crowds, most people passed it without a second glance, without paying it the attention it deserved.

but you always did, too attentive for your own liking, too curious for your own sake. you had always been the type to notice the quiet places where stories seem to breathe.

there was nothing not to love about the store. it felt like a refuge in tones of deep brown wood and soft amber light. it wasn’t flashy, but that’s why you loved it. stepping inside always brought a sense of calm, brought you closer to feel the whisper of worn leather bindings, the smell of old pages. it was being understood, accepted, seen.

meeting jeongguk wasn’t fate. it wasn’t some serendipitous moment ripped from a movie script. you didn’t bump into him while too immersed in your favorite novel. you didn’t reach simultaneously for the same book and argued over it, only to end up in the café next door.

jeon jeongguk was simply working there. he was an employee at the bookshop, stocking shelves, checking inventory. he just so happened to be charming, and the only one who came up to you after you’d been standing in front of a high shelf for what felt like an eternity.

“looking for anything in particular?”

when you turned to follow the source of the honey voice, not too low but still smooth, you had to fight hard to keep the gasp that was threatening to escape locked in your throat. he was tall. way taller than you. his dark hair fell in soft curls, brushing the nape of his neck, framing his face with carefully crafted, but effortlessly beautiful curtains. and when you managed to escape his wide eyes, seemingly storing all the warmth the shop could offer, you found it even harder to contain the surprise as you spotted a trail of intricate ink designs starting from his hand and running up his muscled arm, only to disappear beneath the short sleeve of his black polo.

he was still staring, expectantly. and you just kept standing there, mute. observing like a maniac. you stumbled over your words, trying to steady your voice, “oh— um. i was looking for the japanese author, kawamura?”

the way his eyes lit up at your request was unmistakable. and after that, the same spark would flicker in his gaze every time you stepped foot in the shop.

you later found out that he was new, which explained why you hadn’t noticed him before, all the times you’d gone and searched for books. which weren’t a lot, but enough for the other staff to know your face through the years. and now, certainly enough for jeongguk to become acquainted with your presence.

you started finding excuses to go more often, week after week, convincing yourself that you needed new books to accompany your tea as the colder months approached. truth be told, it wasn’t just the books pulling you in. your friends kept teasing you about the real reason why you’d always hurry there after your lectures ended, and deep down you knew you just had to accept it. you were developing a silly, little crush.

jeongguk didn’t seem to mind the growing frequency of your visits. if you had to guess, you’d say he was just as eager to see you. or maybe he was just exceptionally good at his job. if that were the case, you hoped he was crowned employee of the month every single time.

there was always a line he never crossed. his professionalism remained intact. he greeted you like any other customer, offering his help when you needed it. and you always seemed to need it, didn’t you? yet, there was something in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when you smiled, the way his lips curved in that subtle, almost hidden way when you left with a new book in hand. you’d walk out of the store, clutching your latest literary find, grinning like a fool, and jeongguk would watch, his own smile lingering long after you were gone.

deep down, you knew this couldn’t last forever. you were just a student, miserably scraping by in the tiniest flat imaginable, your waitressing part-time job barely paying enough to make it through the month. but you’d feel bad, wasting hours of jeongguk’s shift, monopolizing his time with your indecision over paperbacks, keeping him off his tasks, just for it to be a waste. you needed to show him your gratitude, in a way. contribute to the income of the bookshop. so, you kept buying books. you weren’t sure you even had more space to fit them in your own shelf.

yet no matter how much you tried to convince yourself to stay away, you couldn’t help it. books were your escape, your joy, and the fact that they were sold to you by jeongguk was just an added bonus. the problem wasn’t him— it was your wallet. your poor, overworked wallet that kept reminding you of the price of each novel and how your little crush was becoming financially unsustainable.

it was one of those afternoons after your morning lectures, where the crisp autumn air made you even more eager to slip into the bookstore, feeling that familiar rush of warmth as jeongguk greeted you with his usual smile. this time, he surprised you with a book he had found just for you, claiming “you’d enjoy it. feels light and genuine, just like you.”

when it came time to pay, cheeks still flushed after the sickly, sweet grin he flashed your way, you sighed as you rummaged through your bag for your card.

he scanned it, only to glance up at you with a hesitant expression, “huh… it declined.”

“what?” you laughed, though it was shaky, disbelief lacing your words, “no, that can’t be right. try again.”

he did, but the outcome remained unchanged. he met your eyes with a worried frown, and you felt your face flame in embarrassment, not the one that made your insides swarm with butterflies minutes before this.

you groaned, pressing your palm to your forehead in mortification, “fuck, this is so humiliating.”

jeongguk chuckled softly, his voice soothing, “hey, it’s really not. it’s okay. i’ll pay for it.”

your jaw dropped, and you looked at him like he had lost his mind, “no, what? are you crazy? don’t— don’t do that. you don’t need to. i’ll just come back another day.”

what followed was a ridiculous, playful back-and-forth. you refused, he insisted, and soon enough, the two of you were locked in a silly tug-of-war over the book itself, laughing despite the situation. he finally threw his hands up in surrender, his smile impossibly wide, the kind of grin that made your heart skip a beat.

“alright, alright,” he relented, shaking his head, “but i’m still not happy about this. if i can’t pay for your book, at least let me buy you a coffee. i’m clocking off in 15. will you wait for me?”

you couldn’t contain your eyes from widening, your smile to dumbly paint your features as you eagerly nodded. you didn’t trust yourself to speak, afraid that if you did, some ridiculous teenage squeal would escape. he was grinning just as hard, though.

and so, you began seeing jeongguk outside the confined space of the bookstore, in a world beyond the shelves and spines of novels. his attire was always simple, dark tones that exuded comfort and warmth. his sweaters seemed soft enough to curl into, and his presence felt just as inviting.

but you pushed those thoughts away, trying to remind yourself that he was becoming a friend. one of your closest, even. you tried. you did! but you just couldn’t help the way your mind wandered, imagining what it would be like to lean just a little closer, to feel the warmth of his embrace. god, get a grip.

still, it was impossible to ignore the flutter in your chest each time his eyes lingered a little longer than necessary. outside the bookstore, jeongguk was different. not in a bad way. he was just more relaxed, more himself. his touch came naturally, a hand at the small of your back guiding you through a crowded street, his arm slung casually over your shoulders like it belonged there. he was playful in a way that hinted at something deeper, his jokes sometimes drifting into uncharted territory, leaving your stomach in knots, your thoughts spiraling down paths you hadn’t dared explore.

and then there was the way he looked after you. he was older, just by a few years, 25 to your 21, but it felt like a gulf of experience separated the two of you. he’d seen more, lived more. experienced more. knew more. about all that stuff you’d been scared to explore, the stuff that happened in the intimacy of one’s bedroom. you knew he had his fair share of girlfriends, he told you about it. just how you’d told him you never got close to a relationship. you just flirted around with a boy in high school, messily making out in the corners where no one could see you. but it never went over that.

jeongguk’s protectiveness over you came naturally. you didn’t mind. it was reassuring, the way his hand tightened around your wrist in a crowded space or how his gaze followed you across a room, always making sure you were safe.

you found yourself spending more and more time together. walking through the city, staying up late at cafés, or just wandering aimlessly in his car, talking about everything. you told him about your classes, the stress of exams, your dreams of becoming a teacher, and the uncertainties that weighed you down. he listened, really listened, in a way that made you feel seen, like every word you said mattered.

jeongguk shared his own story too. he’d dropped out of college a year ago, deciding that the path everyone else had planned for him wasn’t for him at all. now, he was drifting, trying to figure out where he belonged. he took inspiration in the way your eyes sparkled at the prospect of your future. little did he know, your eyes just reflected the galaxies in his that you loved getting lost into.

it terrified you. because with each passing day, your feelings for him grew stronger, more undeniable. it wasn’t just a crush anymore. it was something that had its own weight, pulling you closer to him. the lines were blurring, but you let them.

one night, after a long week of classes and stress, you went out with a few friends. jeongguk hadn’t been able to join, caught up with work, but when your tipsy self had dialed his number later that night, he picked up right away. your voice was soft, your words slurred. they echoed through the bar’s bathroom, followed by your uncontainable giggles as jeongguk playfully scolded you on the other line. the same softness was painting his face, and he only hung up when he started his car, showing up within minutes.

by the time he arrived, you were well past tipsy and leaning dangerously toward drunk. you didn’t notice him sheepishly greeting your group of friends, their eyes lighting up with interest at the image of the renowned jeon jeongguk, until his low voice called your name, slipping his arm around your waist and helping you up from the bar stool, “come on, let’s get you home. say bye-bye.”

you glared at him, face slightly reddening at his tease. he just loved treating you like a little kid. loved poking fun at you. still, you leaned into him, the scent of his body wash wrapping around you like a comforting blanket, banter ready on your tongue, “i’m fine, grandpa,” you slurred amusedly, but your legs wobbled as you tried to walk.

he chuckled under his breath, guiding you out of the bar, “yeah, sure you are. you’re barely standing.”

the night air was cold against your skin, but jeongguk was warm, his body solid and steady as you clung to him.

you didn’t mean to say it, didn’t mean to let the words slip, but in your hazy, alcohol-fueled state, you genuinely wondered, “why are you so good to me?”

he paused for a moment, glancing down at you with a small smile, “because you deserve it.”

the car ride was silent, in a comfortable way. you got lost in the way the city flashed past you, and jeongguk stole sneaky glances at you from the corner of his eye, his hand gripping the steering wheel a little tighter each time he let his eyes linger.

when he reached your place, he helped you inside, gently guiding you to the couch. you were too dazed to fight him when he insisted on getting you some water and a blanket. he moved around your cramped flat with ease, having memorized where every single thing belonged after his countless stays at your place, watching movie after movie or simply keeping you company while you revised.

he sat beside you for a while as you rambled on about your night, how the music was slightly disappointing even with the drinks being overpriced.

jeongguk listened attentively, even with your words stumbling out in messy fragments, jumping from one topic to another. his eyes traced the way your hands moved in wild gestures, the way your lips fumbled for the right words, the glaze in your eyes reflecting the soft glow of the room. he didn’t realize it at first, but his body instinctively followed your movements, leaning closer with every excited wave of your arms, his knees brushing against yours, his head nodding in time with your words.

only when you stopped talking, turning to face him and catching his gaze in the dim light, he was made aware of the little distance between you. it wasn’t unusual for the two of you to be this close. always sneakily seeking for one another in booth seats of the pubs you’d visit every so often, his hand lingering on your knee for longer than needed when calling for your attention, your arms locking together when walking through the city.

but this moment was different. it was heavy with something unspoken. and so tender, fragile.

your cheek rested on the back of the couch, your body slouched, your eyes half-lidded. he sat straight, his torso turned towards you, his head bending down to study your face better.

you didn’t think when you blurted his name out, your gaze falling on his lips, “jeongguk.”

he hummed softly.

“i want you to kiss me.”

the words tumbled out before you could stop them, but you didn’t take them back. you couldn’t.

jeongguk didn’t seem startled by your unfiltered words. he didn’t flinch, didn’t pull back. he only tilted his head slightly, the corner of his lip inching up sweetly, “you want me to kiss you?”

you hummed, with the same softness, only tinted with uncertainty. fear of rejection. you were suddenly aware of what you asked him now that he repeated it back to you. and you realized how much you meant it, just now.

but his tone wasn’t condemning. it was seeking for confirmation that he heard right, that it wasn’t just your drunk thoughts talking. still, he didn’t lean closer, nor let his eyes fall to the lower part of your face.

he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, “i’ll kiss you. just not now.”

”what? why not?”

your eyebrows were cutely furrowed, the blush the alcohol painted you with only making the pout on your lips even more irresistible.

jeongguk hissed amusedly, ”because you’re drunk. and when i’ll kiss you, i want you to be sure about it. want you to remember it.”

”but i am sure about it. i want you.”

once again, your blunt confession didn’t seem to faze him. he smiled, kept his tone low, ”i know. i want you too.”

your breath hitched at the unexpected sincerity of his words, your eyes roaming all over his face. you subtly shifted closer, your lips parted slightly with desire. the flame that lit up your body burned all the alcohol from your system, and suddenly you were more awake than ever. you were alert. your heart pounding, your core pulsing. he looked so inviting, so pretty in that light.

he wet his lips, darting his tongue out to play with his piercing. you could feel your head spin. you didn’t just want him. you needed him. and it wasn’t the alcohol. you were sure of it.

you could only dumbly lean closer and hope for the best, but he chuckled softly, his large hand framing the side of your face and forcing you to stop your path towards him, look at him, swim in the intensity of his gaze.

his tone was gentle, delicate, understanding, “if you don’t change your mind, we’ll talk about this tomorrow, okay? when you’re sober. hm?”

his eyes searched yours, waiting patiently for your response. you only managed a small nod, your eyes glossy with frustration and a bit of shame. you bit your lip, muttering a small okay and letting him fix your hair with the fondest look in his orbs.

he left your flat only after tucking you in your bed, because you begged him to, and after much more pleading, you even convinced him to stay beside you until you fell asleep. you didn’t feel him slip out of your hold on his hand, the weight of his body leaving your bed, and with it, the warmth of his presence going as well.

but the following day, after downing the glass of water you assumed he left by your nightstand, you bore through your headache and searched for his contact in your phone first thing as you woke up. you were instantly hit with flashes of the night before, and you remembered exactly what you told him, what he promised. that if you still wanted it, you would talk about it. and you just needed to hear his voice, as soon as possible.

you’re not sure what there was to talk about. you asked him for a kiss. his lips on yours. it’s not like there would be much space for talking.

with your phone to your ear, the ringback tone was the only sound filling the space between your thoughts. you felt a twinge of anxiety in your stomach. you should have probably called later, let yourself adjust to consciousness. maybe rationalize yesterday’s events and find a better way to move around them. give yourself more time to think it over. the wait stretched on, and it only gave your doubts more space to spiral, turn into little monsters whispering evil things in your ear.

he probably wanted to talk to you about it because he thought it was a stupid idea. he didn’t really want it, was just lying to get you to shut up. he thought you were foolish, childish, not his type at all. or maybe, he was seeing someone and didn’t know how to tell you. wow, that would be humbling. you wanted him so bad and he was just—

“hello?”

his voice sounded muffled through the line. you clumsily adjusted your device to your ear, sitting up, still in your bed, last night’s makeup smudged under your eyes, “jeongguk?”

”that would be me, ma’am.”

“hi,” your voice was low, thick with sleep and the remnants of your hangover, and it sounded weaker than you’d intended to reveal.

”hey. feeling better, miss?”

his playful tone was laced with affection, and it instantly put a smile on your face. you didn’t realize it, but your mind was clearing, your body unconsciously easing back into the covers, “i am.”

jeongguk hummed, and you heard the faint sound of movement on his end. he was probably getting ready for the bookstore, but still found time to pick up your call. it made you alert, awkwardly aware of what both of you were probably expecting out of this conversation.

you cleared your throat, smoothing some of the morning grogginess and sounding lighter, softer, “come over after your shift? i miss the office. and your ramyeon.”

when he chuckled in your ear and teased you for that one time you said his cooking was average, you felt your shoulders relax. even more when he agreed and shot you a quick see you later, followed by the exaggerated sound of smacking lips.

it was his signature goodbye, always ending your calls with that. it would usually make you roll your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. but this time, it made you blush like a pubescent teenager. get. a. grip.

jeongguk noticed the slight shift in your demeanor right away. he could taste the tension, smell it in the air, feel it in the way you’d become stiff, even when his fingers barely grazed your skin. it was a stark contrast to how things had been between you two.

you still moaned around the first bite of his ramyeon, still giggled with your mouth full as he mockingly mimicked your voice, playfully downgrading his cooking skills from months ago. but you blushed a little harder at the smirk that followed his usual tease. subtly ran away from his hand seeking your contact.

with time, both of you had grown comfortable with the casual touches, playful proximity— tickling at each other’s sides, poking jokingly, or simply brushing hands when no one was looking. it had become a natural part of your dynamic.

but after your earlier slurred confessions, he could tell that it was affecting you more deeply now, your body reacting differently to his touch. the way you startled at his closeness, the small breath catching in your throat. it all made his head spin, his fist tighten in restraint. you weren’t the only one affected.

on your couch, you found it hard to relax in his familiar embrace, an arm around your shoulders, your head resting on his chest. the steady rhythm of his breathing usually soothed you, but tonight, your heart was fighting its way up, dangerously close to spilling all over his neat clothes. you exhaled shakily, the office playing quietly on the tv doing a weak job at distracting you.

and jeongguk couldn’t take it anymore. lust wasn’t the only feeling simmering under the surface. he was scared. that he may have read it all wrong, that you only blurted it out because you were drunk and not in control of your thoughts. he was terrified of stepping the wrong way, doing something that would determinately scare you away, end whatever you two had for good. and he didn’t want to lose you. wanted to keep you. and that went over the need to taste your lips.

through the corner of your eye, you could feel him stare down at you intently. his other hand reached to move your hair out of the way, and you let him. you turned to meet his gaze, and relaxed slightly at the fond look on his features.

“what’s going on in that pretty, little head of yours? will you tell me?”

you blinked. gulped down loudly. the reassuring smile on his face grew bigger. you shifted slightly in his hold, moving your body to face him, and the arm that was around you naturally fell down your waist.

you tried to word it differently, tried to suppress it just a bit longer, find another way around it, but his blown out pupils lowered all your inhibitions, “do you— do you still want to kiss me?”

“i do. very badly.”

his response was immediate, and it came through a whisper. it caressed your face sweetly, and it made you aware of the natural gravity that pulled you even closer, to the point of your noses almost touching.

you were unable to move, to initiate anything, to be truthful to your desires. your orbs jumped on every corner of his face, widening. he let his palm close around your hip, then he spoke low, “will you let me do that?”

jeon jeongguk kissed you slowly. his lips lingered on yours, tasting, moving with intent. his hands framed your face, traveling down your neck and holding you gently by the nape.

it was sweet, and delicate. he took his time becoming acquainted with your pace, letting you control the movement of his doings. when he darted his tongue out to trace your lower lip, you granted him permission to explore the insides of your mouth.

with tongues intertwined, the kiss gradually became sloppier, more desperate. your fingers found home in his long curls, tugging at the base of it, and supporting yourself while arching your body into his, pressing yourself against his chest, seeking for confirmation that he wanted this just as badly as you did.

he welcomed your proximity by letting his palms fall to your waist, keeping you close, and tracing his touch dangerously close to the curve of your ass.

you whined lowly, but the sounds became ingloriously louder the more he pressed your body against his hard one, his touch wandering, squeezing, feeling.

you messily straddled his lap and sat with your knees on both sides of him, your desire deepening with your kiss, devouring his lips harder, twisting his hair in a confused tangle the more you got lost in them.

his hands went to hold your hips, and you soon felt a stronger weight on them, gently pulling you away and giving you a minute to catch your breath. though it was taken out of you the moment you took in the man in front of you, his lips swollen, his eyes half-lidded, his curls all over the place.

he let out an amused chuckle, combing through your own mess on your head, “hey, pretty. it’s okay. there’s no rush. we can take it slow, hm?”

in that small moment, you were made aware of your own eagerness slipping out of your control and rushing your actions, insatiable with wanting more, but not even being sure if jeongguk wanted that more just as much.

instead, you were sure your whole face was a crimson shade with the way the boy under you fondly grinned, his hand guiding you by the nape and letting your lips meet again in a small peck, before he focused on your face again.

jeongguk never left your eyes, and you were too hypnotized to even think of looking elsewhere. his gaze was steady, magnetic, thirsty to drink in your reaction as he guided your hips against him, letting them drag over his clothed bulge. you moaned, unshameful, your eyes rolling back.

”yeah? you like that?”

you could only nod dumbly, repeatedly, using your hands on his shoulders as support while you kept grinding on him. slowly at first, just how he had suggested. but the stimulation was too good, your clit deliciously meeting his hardness, spreading the embarrassing amount of wetness you had already collected all over your panties. you tentatively picked up your pace, his hands immediately stopping you.

”you need to be patient, doll.” his scold was only playful, the smirk spreading on his features letting you know he enjoyed the effect he had on you, the way he bit his lip communicating he was just as affected. but you liked the feeling of him guiding you through this.

you didn’t know what to do, weren’t sure how to please him, too shy under his adoring look. you sheepishly smiled, falling onto him and hiding yourself in the crook of his neck.

he laughed, his chest moving with it, and you could feel his heart pumping, his warmth meeting the side of your face. he took the hand on your waist and dragged it up your back, soothingly, “you’re doing so good, baby. okay?”

it was sweet, and the praise made you pulse around nothing. you nodded, your nose brushing against his neck as you timidly let your lips leave a trace of wet kisses along his adam’s apple, going up his jaw. he hummed, the sound reverberating in his throat and against your mouth.

you left small pecks on his cheek, to his nose, retreating after laying a quiet one on his mouth. you looked back at him, jumping between his eyes, confession tumbling out your tongue, “sorry. i just want you so bad.”

he chuckled, moving your bangs out of your face, “i want you just as much. but i don’t want this moment to be fast. want to make it special for you.”

his whispered words tugged at the strings of your poor heart. you felt it begging to be ripped out of your chest, banging on your rib cage, maybe trying to find another way up your throat. but its repeated, quick pumping also matched the need pooling down your lower belly, staining your panties.

you nodded, finding his lips again and deepening the kiss, adapting to a slower rhythm as your tongues fervently explored each other. he grabbed your sides and grinded you closer to him, moaning in your mouth as you matched his gentle guiding, meeting the involuntary buck of his hips.

the almost too tender drag of your clothed pussy against his clothed, hard cock soon became torturous for the both of you, reduced to panting, eager messes. you felt unashamedly close just from the repeated action, and if he hadn’t decided to lay you on your back just then, you were sure you would have cummed already.

he was gentle as he positioned you on the couch, your body sprawled while he was mindful not to put too much of his weight on you. when he left your lips, you instinctively whined. your head subtly lifted off the sofa to try and follow his mouth, bring it back on yours, but he only smirked and darted his tongue out to lick off your taste.

he didn’t give you time to protest, to miss his touch, to be left unattended. because he quickly moved to work on your neck, his tattooed hand tentatively seeking its way under your t-shirt.

you let him wander. let him leave wet traces from your jaw down your collarbones while his fingers left goosebumps along their path, and rose up to your chest. he hummed at the feeling of your bare breasts, smirking at the absence of a bra.

he felt the skin under it, only for his palm to cup your boob and knead at it. it was a perfect fit in his large hand, his thumb teasingly slicing over your nipple and making you mewl, arching your back and pushing your front into him.

he moved himself from your neck and hesitantly lifted up your shirt, searching your eyes for permission. you put your hands on his and led them to take it off you, discarding it on the ground.

he sat back on his heels, admiring your figure laying between his legs. in his eyes, you found something you were never met with until that moment.

he looked starved, his pupils blown and following every curve of your body, his hands hovering only to end up caressing your sides delicately.

you blushed, hard, using your hand to cover your face and throwing an arm over your chest. his palms squeezed your hips twice, his thumbs stroking the skin under your ribs, “don’t hide from me, pretty. let me see you.”

you shook your head stubbornly, a small whine escaping your throat. but he could tell you weren’t starting any fight, he could make out your smile, barely concealed under your fingers.

jeongguk moved your wrists and laid them on top of your head, his face nearing again to leave an adoring kiss on your lips. when he found your eyes again, the fondest smile was painting his features, “you’re beautiful.”

“my boobs are small,” your voice was muffled, shy, hidden behind your childish pout.

“i fucking love them,” with one hand still keeping your wrists together, he used the other one to play with your breasts once more, his gaze hypnotized by the way he could make them fit in his large palm, squeezing them together and kneading at the softness.

you moaned, loud and unashamed, when he guided his smooth lips to your nipple, his gaze never leaving yours while he attempted small, kitten licks at it.

when he saw how your eyes lustfully rolled back as his fingers went to play with your other boob, rolling it and letting his thumb slide over the sensitive center, he took it as his go-ahead to wholly engulf your wet nipple in his mouth and suck on it, lick around it, kiss it.

jeongguk was hastily making out with your tits, giving both of them the attention they needed, reducing your nipples to soaked, hard messes.

you felt your soul ascend high and leave your body when, as you unconsciously thrusted your hips up in desperate need of friction, you found that in his knee, the one that was positioned between your legs, the one you now grinded into with no control over your pace, bringing yourself closer to the edge.

“fuck, jeongguk,” you didn’t have time to feel ashamed over how delirious you sounded, or looked, the lewd noises of his sucking taking you even higher, his hands massaging your boobs with intent.

you only got louder the more you let your cunt rub against his leg, a motion you were unable to slow down, too eager to get to the finish line. and this time, jeongguk let you, even spurring you on, “let go, angel. cum on my thigh.”

it was all the encouragement you needed to fully loosen, his own whines resounding against your chest and blending with your high-pitched moans, eyes rolled back, head thrown to the side, fingers clutching around jeongguk’s locks and guiding him further into you as you lost control on his thigh, “gonna cum!”

your orgasm took over your whole body, shaking with overwhelment at the stimulation. all the sensations you were feeling were new to you, but nonetheless welcomed in the way your eyelids drooped with relaxed pleasure and you worked to catch your breath, your muscles untightening, your arms falling by your sides.

jeongguk left one last kiss around your nipple before lifting himself up to admire your fucked out state, your cheeks flushed and sweat adorning you with an angel-like glow, the lazy smile on your face as you stared at him making his heart skip a few beats.

he let his eyes wander, his own expression incredulous at what had just happened, “that was so fucking sexy, baby.”

the way you sheepishly chuckled was contagious, his giggles filling your ears as he lifted you up and pulled you against his chest, your still weak body falling onto him with ease. he smiled fondly, looking down at your face, “if you want to stop here, it’s totally okay. i won’t—“

“no!” your energy came back to you as quickly as it left your body minutes before, sitting up straight in his embrace with your eyes wide and worried. you fumbled with your words, “no— no. i want to keep going. please.”

the grin that took over his features adorably caused his nose to scrunch, and he had to put his lips on yours and let them blend together in a sickly sweet kiss to keep himself from saying the words that were so dangerously close from spilling, on the tip of his tongue. he hoped, as he slid it against yours, that you could still feel them, and accept them.

he retreated to cup your cheek in his palm, your eyebrows still unconsciously drawn up in agitation, but easing as he reassured you, “you don’t have to beg, angel. i’ll give you anything you ask for.”

”okay. couch is uncomfortable. take me to the bedroom,” your arms stretched out, teasingly expecting him to pick you up.

you squealed when he did, taking your legs, wrapping them around his tiny waist and getting up the sofa, leading both of you to your room. he didn’t have to watch where he was going, his feet automatically guiding him, having adjusted to your flat long ago. but even if that weren’t the case, he would still not look, too caught up in your glossy orbs.

he pinched your sides before laying you on the soft surface of your bed, legs still tight around him, “bossy much, hm?”

you shrugged, a naughty grin accompanying the playful glint in your eyes, “you’re following my orders flawlessly.”

he scoffed amusedly, kissing his teeth, “ah, is that right?”

you hummed, eager with taking the back and forth further, see where it takes you, “such a good boy.”

the giggle that tumbled out of you as he narrowed his eyes betrayed you, breaking into a full fit of laughter as he tickled your sides, your legs leaving his waist. he tauntingly bit your neck, not enough to hurt you, grinning mischievously, “i’m letting you get away with too much. need to teach you a lesson.”

the laugh died in your throat the second he lifted his shirt up, showing his body to you for the first time. michelangelo would have loved to sculpt him, that’s the first thought your slowed down brain could come up with as you let your eyes wander all over his upper body.

he was toned, his eight pack abs glowing effortlessly for your mouth to water, his nipples a brownish color and so inviting, making you lean on your forearms for a better view.

the arm that wrapped around one of your legs and pushed it on the side was the one inked with those intricate designs you spent boring, lazy afternoons analyzing, and now they were the reason why you could feel a familiar buzz down your core again, coating your panties with even more of your sticky juice.

“cat got your tongue?” there was no way you could even think of a witty come-back with the way he lowered his pretty face between your thighs, his cocky smirk never leaving his expression as his eyes fixated on your own, challenging you.

but you were long gone, willing to let him do whatever he wanted to your body. you stared intently as his fingers hooked under the hem of your shorts, pulling them down in a sensual motion, until they fell on the floor.

your head fell backwards as he let his nose trace your soaked slit, still hidden underneath the layer of cotton panties, “is this okay?”

he only needed your eager nod to leave a subtle kiss on your clit, then lap at your slick through the thin material, “taste so good, doll.”

jeongguk repeated the motion, licking at you through your undies and letting his big nose brush against your clit torturously, his saliva and your wetness causing the fabric to dig between your lips uncomfortably, showing yourself to him.

you unconsciously bucked your hips up, eagerly demanding to set you free, but he held you down by your waist, “patience, baby.”

you whined loudly, and you couldn’t believe how delirious you sounded already, only moments after your earlier climax. he seemed to enjoy your reactions, the tip of his tongue teasing your entrance and ripping a desperate moan out of you, trying to push yourself into him further but being held down by his strong palms.

you fell on your back, your hair sprawled over your pillows, suddenly too weak to fight against him. he chuckled darkly, speaking against your core, “you’re so cute. so eager for me, angel.”

when he lifted himself up, his mouth glistened with your juice, and you couldn’t help but blush at the image. you were so wet, the liquid stained him even through the layer of clothing still keeping you from fully feeling him.

the silent plead in your eyes was listened to. jeongguk slid off your panties in one swift motion, his eyes hungry at the sight revealed to him, “fuck. so perfect. the prettiest.”

he didn’t show mercy at your weakened state, returning his starved mouth on your cunt, slurping at your lips and sucking on your clit, the stimulation making you see stars under your eyelids.

your eyes snapped open the moment you felt something tentatively poking at your entrance, and as you lowered your head you saw his finger playing with your virgin hole, going up to collect your slick from your slit, then returning on where you were starting to need him.

but you were anxious. he immediately saw it in the way you got up on your forearms again, instinctively closing your legs around his hand. his eyes found yours, reassuringly, “baby. you alright?”

you nodded sheepishly, “yeah. i’m just— scared. don’t want it to hurt.”

the hand that was playing with you now laid on your lower stomach, rubbing it in a sweet manner while he sought for your mouth with his, leaving a honeyed peck on it, “it will hurt a bit, pretty. but i’ll try and make it feel good, hm? if you’re not sure, we can always stop.”

you could only bite your lip as the both of you searched for security in each other’s eyes. he tilted his head, waiting for your approval, the grin spreading and making his long dimples visible infectious, and you stumbled on your words, “can you— kiss me while you do it?”

he hummed fondly, his lips immediately finding yours as he positioned himself between your legs, spreading again and granting him access to the spot you were anxiously eager to feel him.

his tongue slowly moved with yours and lightly lulled your racing heartbeat, instilling some needed tranquility in your system as you felt him close to your core again. his middle finger repeated a circular motion around it, spreading your stickiness, only to bring it on your hole before delicately pushing his digit inside.

a choked out moan escaped you, captured promptly by his lips, keeping you somewhat distracted from the slight burn you felt. it grew the more he slipped himself inside you, and you bit his lip to conceal the pain.

he growled at the action, retreating his finger only to push it in again, this time tentatively deeper. he went over the movement a few times, enough to get you adjusted to the foreign presence, and the more he did it, the more the sharpness turned into pleasure.

”feel good, princess?” the pet name was whispered against your swollen lips, and you kept your eyes closed as you nodded, basking in the newly welcomed feeling.

when he started curling the finger inside you, you involuntarily bucked yourself up against him, your body spasming with your hole and he groaned at the feeling of your tightness, unconsciously grinding on the sheets.

he couldn’t help himself from breaking your kiss to look down, getting lost in the way his digit got sucked inside you, only to come out soaked in your juice. without warning, he slowly added another finger, and you arched your back, searching for support in his shoulder.

jeongguk’s eyes kept jumping between your wet cunt, where his fingers worked in and out, and your pleasure-contorted expression, your mouth agape and unleashing your every moan as your eyes squeezed shut.

he felt deliriously close only from the image, his hard dick desperate for friction and insatiable with the way he was still constricted in his jeans. but this moment was about you and you only. once he felt the way you gripped his shoulder tighter at one particular curl of his digits, he kept hitting that spot repeatedly, faster.

you didn’t notice his face retreating at first, too lost in the bliss of his purposed touch, but you gasped harshly, your eyes tearing open the moment you felt his lips enveloping your clit again and sucking at it, lapping all around it, tasting it as if it was his first meal after ages.

when you looked down, you found him already staring at you through half-lidded eyes. you wailed, feverish, “oh, shit. gguk, don’t— don’t do that.”

he hummed questioningly, and the sound reverberated against your sensitive nub.

you rolled your eyes back, ”gonna cum again if you— fuck.”

“cum around my fingers, baby. cum on my tongue,” the words came out slurred, his mouth full of you, the drenched sounds of your pussy making his encouragement even more erotic as he added a third finger.

his digits kept digging relentlessly inside you, that spot that made your legs weakly squish jeongguk between them being hit repeatedly and bringing you close to your second climax.

what completely undid you were his eager cries against your cunt, and when you managed to lift your head to look down at the boy working so desperately to make you cum on his lips, you saw his hips rutting frantically against your sheets.

you didn’t even have time to announce it, the way your hole spasmed around his fingers and your high-pitched moans doing it for you as you fully let go for the second time because of jeongguk. it was more intense, your body moving with it and unconsciously running away from the touch once it became too intense.

jeongguk cleaned you as best as he could, slurping your juices and licking you off his fingers, climbing up to find your lips and share your own taste with you, his chin coated with your slick.

your pleasured sounds mixed together, the both of you panting and soon laying in silence, one beside the other, staring at the ceiling. you laughed breathlessly, “fuck, gguk. i almost died.”

he only chuckled along with you, the sound strained and dying soon in his throat. with your heartbeat and your breathing settling down, you turned to the side to find jeongguk with his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenching. his fists were clutching the fabric beside him, and his knuckles were white from the effort.

it wasn’t complicated to understand why, the next thing you spotted being the hard outline of his cock looking completely suffocated by his pants. you gulped, “gguk. you seem hard.”

he let out a delirious scoff, his eyes finding yours with an intensity you were only then noticing, ”i am hard, baby. so hard for you.”

you tentatively guided your hand to the button of his jeans, undoing it along with the zip. your words were hesitant, but so sincere, ”let me touch you. wanna make you feel good, too.”

jeongguk watched with his mouth agape as you straddled his lap, sitting on his legs only after sliding his pants down to his ankles. you looked so innocent, timidly playing with the hem of his boxers, and he tried to be patient, but he couldn’t.

he groaned, his head thrown back. “___. please, do something.”

his eyes were glossy with frustration, and you had to fight the urge to kiss him stupid, focusing on the task ahead. a big one, indeed. you weren’t going to lie, you were already intimidated by the outline of it.

now that your naked body sat on top of him, being faced with his almost totally bare skin, you realized how much bigger he was compared to you. of course, he was taller, always towering over you, teasing you for your height and pretending he didn’t see you, bumping into you purposefully or asking how’s the weather down there?

but with his large palm resting at your side and almost covering your entire tummy, you realized the implications of such difference. he could totally wreck you, if he wanted to.

ogling at his dick didn’t make it better. it looked huge. a wet patch stained his underwear near the tip, and you salivated at the sight of it.

you tentatively let your finger run along the covered length, and he hissed, slightly thrusting his hips, making you slide closer, “baby. don’t tease.”

the apology was ready and fast on your lips, genuine concern written in your eyes. you didn’t want to keep his suffering going, but you were also hesitant with how exactly you were going to please him. you’ve never seen a real-life dick, and you’ve certainly never touched one.

it was like jeongguk could read your every thought, your wide orbs like an open book to him, reassurance slipping out of him naturally, “doll. you see this?” he took your wrists and laid your hand on his hardness, gulping at the contact, “you feel this? this is what you did to me. there’s no reason why you should doubt yourself, okay?”

you nodded, still unsure, but surely smiling at his sweet tone. he grinned himself, “you’re so hot, and i literally almost came just by looking at you.”

the giggle that escaped you was lively and it eased your nerves with the way it mirrored in his eyes, fondly jumping all over your face. you bit your lip as you escaped his attentive gaze, finally freeing his cock from his confines and making him release a shaky sigh.

it was perfect. pretty. it touched just under his belly button, the tip angry and wet with precum, the pulsing veins running along its length making it throb.

you took it in your hand delicately, jeongguk hissing, and you gasped under your breath. it felt thick in your hold, your fist barely closing around it.

you weren’t sure what to do. your only examples were pornos, and you knew not to fully trust them. but as you started letting your wrist tentatively flick up and down, slowly, you eagerly drank in his reaction.

jeongguk moaned lowly, his eyelids fluttering shut, focusing on the feeling of your smooth hands taking care of his boner. he got louder when you unexpectedly played with his tip, your thumb swirling around it and spreading his wetness down.

your movements were messy, stutteringly uncoordinated, but the concentrated look in your eyes as you stared at his member intently made his head spin, wishing he could fill your slightly agape, watering mouth with it.

in your own mind, you wished his length could be stuffing up your cunt, instead. you slowed down your doings, ending up haltering them as he found your face again, a protesting whine ready to escape him, but you were quicker to surprise him, your voice shy, ”wanna feel you inside me.”

jeongguk groaned deliriously, eyes rolling back at the simple request, ”fuck. you sure?”

you whispered, ”please.”

”of course, angel. been waiting for so long.”

your mouths found each other quickly, starving, both your heartbeats picking up at the prospect of what was going to happen. he combed through your hair to move them behind your ears, rolling the two of you and making you the one laying under his weight.

in between kisses, you asked, impatient, “do you have a condom?”

”yeah, got one in my wallet,” he was panting with effort just as you were, moving from you only to fully free himself from his clothes and then search in his jeans pockets.

as he took the condom out, ripping it open, he stumbled on his words, suddenly awkwardly self-conscious, “it’s not like i have it because i was— expecting us to, huh—“

”jeongguk. it’s okay,” your sweet voice interrupted his overthinking, pulling him to be on top of you again by his arm, “i’m glad you have it, ‘cause i need to feel you. right now.”

he didn’t need to be told twice. you watched, eyes glossy with want, need, as he rolled the condom along his length, huffing out at the sensitivity.

jeongguk brought you closer to him by your thighs, wrapping them around him. he lowered himself on his forearms, his forehead touching yours, eyes swimming together, the proximity making the both of you smile sheepishly.

he exhaled, “are you still sure about this, doll?”

you nodded, the subtle but growing anxiety making your words get stuck in your throat. jeongguk was gentle, patient, his large palm cupping your cheek, “need to hear you say it.”

”yes. i’m sure. want you so bad,” the confession was slurred, shy under his adoring gaze. he kissed along your jaw, slow, intentional.

“okay. just know we can stop whenever you want. let me know if it hurts. i wanna hear you, hm?” his eyes searched yours, frantically, making sure you were good.

as you nodded again, he grasped your hand to hold it, letting your fingers intertwine and lay by your head. with the other hand, he took his length and positioned it where you needed him the most.

jeongguk made it all feel so intimate, special, and safe, that you sensed your eyes water with a feeling stronger than the words you could allow yourself to say. you felt eternally grateful to him for turning a moment you used to dread into something so delicate and precious.

you felt adored. you felt seen, and heard. you felt protected, understood. you saw your reflection in his eyes, in a way that made you want to hide in there forever, maybe travel a bit further down and find home in his heart.

as he started easing himself inside you, both of you gasping at the feeling, his hand gripping yours harder, a tear ran down your cheek. it was a mixture of emotions, sensations. the fullness of his cock entering you, the burn that came with it, his eyes widening alarmingly as he noticed the tears welling along your bottom lashes.

he stilled inside you, his tip now nuzzled in your warmth, his breath hitching, “does it hurt? baby, what’s wrong?”

”no, it’s just—“ it was on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t say it. not now. maybe never? you swallowed it down your throat, “it hurts a bit but it feels so good, gguk.”

”yeah? fuck. you’re so tight, princess. taking me in so good,” his praises replaced the hurt, both emotional and physical, with a familiar fuzzy pleasure, pooling in your lower stomach and releasing more of your wetness on his dick, making it easier for him to slip inside you.

he groaned as he bottomed out, your moan higher than intended. you felt him throb inside you, just how he could feel you pulse around him. a string of curses followed as he repeated the slow action, pulling back to his tip only to push back in, making sure you grew accustomed to the feeling.

”gguk. i feel so full,” you cried, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist, forcing him to stay still inside you. he growled, kissing along your neck and leaving small bites to contain himself from snapping his hips against you.

it was complicated, with the sounds escaping your lips resounding sweetly in his ears and your hole tightening around him in a torturous manner making him release precum inside the condom.

”baby, can i please move? i’m gonna go crazy,” his voice was strained, whiny, muffled in the crook of your neck as your fingers combed through his hair, unconsciously searching for comfort.

your granting hum was more of a high-pitched whine, but he took it positively as he attempted one first thrust inside you, followed shortly by another. your moans got stuck, the air cut from your throat the more he picked up his pace, lifting his face from your neck and straightening up to admire the scene.

it was better than anything he’d ever witnessed, his thickness stuffed in your tight, virgin hole and taking him in so perfectly. he took his free hand to hold you still by your hip as he pushed himself deeper.

you were a mess underneath him. legs squeezing around him, you barely gave jeongguk space to move. you wailed, his name tumbling out your tongue repeatedly as he fucked into you faster. he’d been so gentle with you until that moment, but now his roughness made you impossibly wetter.

when you let your eyes flutter open, you could feel yourself spasm around him at the sight in front of you. his abs contracted with the effort of his pushes, his cock slammed into you relentlessly, his nipples hardened and called for your touch.

you threw one hand to his pec and felt his firmness under you, gripping it for support as he pounded you with intent, your nails scratching his skin, the sounds of your bodies slapping together overtaking your pleasured moans.

he panted, rambling, “fuck, love this pussy. love fucking this pussy. wanna fuck it forever.”

“made just for me. such a perfect fit.”

“that’s how you’ve been waiting to be fucked, huh? nice and deep, you fucking love that.”

his praises and dirty comments made your head spin, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, letting your mouth hang open and release your cries into the stuffy room.

the sight of your fucked out state underneath his control was going to torture him for the following weeks, he was sure of that. he’d see you, sprawled out on your bed for him, your tits moving up and down with each thrust, your pleasured tears staining your face as his name left your pillowy lips like a mantra, every time he’d close his eyelids.

he had to physically hold himself back from releasing already, his length too sensitive and eager, but he wanted to make this moment last for as long as he could possibly handle. he closed his eyes, but he couldn’t escape you. you were loud, and the hottest thing he’s ever heard.

and then, the challenge became harder when you stuttered, unexpectedly, “wanna ride you.”

he threw his head back, a feverish groan rising up his throat, “fuck. you do, pretty?”

you hummed, just as unhinged, your legs untightening around him and weakly pulling at his arm to try and bring him to lay on the bed. he pulled himself out of you slowly, making you cringe at the emptiness, and as he let his back fall on the soft surface, he lifted your figure effortlessly and led you to straddle him.

now on top of him, you weren’t so confident with your earlier claim anymore. underneath you, jeongguk was panting, his pupils blown out, lips agape, cock laying unattended on his stomach. he stroked your sides comfortingly, subtly pulling you closer, and the action caused your slicked pussy to grind against his balls.

the two of you moaned at the contact, and he immediately took his length to pump it a couple of times, gently tapping it against your tummy. you lifted your hips up, positioning yourself on his tip, looking down at jeongguk for support.

the lazy smile you were met with made your heart stutter in your chest, and you put your hand on top of his, still tightly gripping your hip, as you sank down his dick.

your head was thrown back in pleasure, your back arching into him, and jeongguk had to fight with himself to keep his eyes from fluttering shut, wanting to bask in the image of you.

as you fully took him in, you leaned your weight on the palm that fell on his chest, his hands steadying you promptly by your waist, praise ready on his tongue, “doing so amazing, princess. making me feel so good.”

you attempted moving subtly, trying to adjust to the more intense stretch, and the hand that was still holding his led it to cup your boob, instructing him to knead at it.

he moaned shakily, playing with your tit while you lifted your hips only to sink them down again, tentatively repeating the action and gaining confidence the more his whines got louder.

soon, you lost control. the way your clit would brush against his skin every time you bounced down made you pulse relentlessly around him, grinding into the sensation and rotating your hips on him with intent.

you tried to prevent it, to hold yourself back, but all your resolution dissolved in a second the moment you felt jeongguk’s thumb teasing your nub. you jolted forward, still balancing yourself on his chest, his hand on your breast working to keep you straight.

”gguk, i think— i think i’m close again,” you admitted ashamedly, your cheeks flushing but your desire unable to make you stop rutting your hips against his touch, his cock throbbing around your walls.

”yeah? then cum around it, make me feel it,” his low voice spurred you on, the thumb that was teasing you now slicing on your nipple, spreading your slick on your boob.

and that made you let go, for a third time, convulsing on top of him, your cries louder as you spasmed around his thick length, your cunt hugging him impossibly tighter, and for a moment you genuinely feared he’d get stuck.

the strength taken out of you was enough to make you fall onto him, your face in his neck as you panted frantically, his heartbeat matching the speed of yours under your palm laying on his chest.

jeongguk’s voice was weak as he spoke in your ear, his fingers stroking your back comfortingly, “that was amazing, baby. so good.”

you appreciated his constant praises, a lazy grin spreading on your lips, but you couldn't ignore the way he kept thudding inside you, quiet whines stuck in his throat as he tried to conceal them by clutching your sides tighter, stilling himself.

jeongguk wailed feverishly when you lifted yourself up again, resuming your earlier actions, the ones that were bringing him to the point he badly wanted to reach. he was breathless as he took in the determined glint in your eyes, “fu— fuck. doll, what are you—“

”wanna make you cum, gguk.”

he physically couldn’t hold himself from rolling his eyes far deep, bucking up to meet your hips, and the force of his thrusts threw your weak body back on him again, your hard nipples brushing against his equally stiff ones.

”i’ll fuck you, baby, hm? you already did so good for me,” his words were hushed, whispered, delirious, the sound of them overtaken by the sharp pounding.

but he made sure you could feel every syllable, his lips close to your lobe as you held yourself tightly on his shoulders, “so perfect. letting me fuck you good and deep. gonna make me cum so hard, doll.”

your brain couldn’t process any other kind of response other than loud cries, your cunt being relentlessly abused. the waves of your last orgasm still flowed inside you, the buzz coming back to life as the new position gave him perfect access to your sweet, needy spot, hitting it at an inhumane force.

his effort was translated into deep, raspy growls only pushing you closer to the edge, and you swore you could pass out from the overstimulation. but you basked in it, the tears in your eyes blurring your vision.

”you wanna cum again? i know you can, c’mon. i know you got it in you, pretty. just another one. cum with me.”

his pleading, delirious tone undid you. the way you both released with harsh moans was perfectly synced, his hips jolting you forward as you chased your high against his lower stomach. with a few more pushes, he let go fully inside the condom, all the energy being ripped from him at that moment, his hands freeing your waist from the sharp grip while his head fell weakly on the side.

the two of you were almost wheezing, your exhales shaking in your panting chests as you lifelessly rested on him, slowly being lulled by his breathing.

you didn’t even notice yourself slipping so easily into slumber, and if it weren’t for his delicate touch tracing your closed eyelids and moving your hair behind your ear, his sweet voice preventing you from fully falling unconscious, you would have enjoyed just staying in that position forever.

“sweetheart. you sleepy?”

you only hummed, the sound rough and thick.

he removed himself from you slowly, both of you still gasping at the overstimulation, and he gently laid you on your back before tying the condom and throwing it in the bin next to your nightstand.

as soon as your head hit the pillow, your eyes fluttered shut again. the room spun faintly, and your body, exhausted, ignored every request your mind was screaming at you. you were cold, goosebumps rising on your naked skin; your thighs still trembled, a mess of wetness and slick. but you were too tired to move. you could only lay there, sprawled on the sheets.

luckily, jeongguk thought of everything. his mind was full of you, his only thought being taking care of your figure and making sure you were safe, comforted.

he had taken your virginity. it wasn’t just a physical act— it was a gift you had entrusted him with, something you had kept close to your heart, even through all the fears and anxieties you’d shared with him. you had always been afraid to let go, to give such an intimate part of yourself to someone.

but you trusted him, fully and deeply, in a way that you hadn’t trusted anyone before. that knowledge bloomed in his chest like warmth spreading to every corner of his body. he felt a deep sense of responsibility and gratitude. he wanted to honor that trust.

with care, jeongguk slipped away from your side to retrieve a warm, damp towel. the cool air hit your skin as he left, and you stirred slightly, though not fully awake. when he returned and began gently wiping you down, you startled at the sensation, your eyes slowly fluttering open. you were met with his grinning face, his eyes crinkling at the sides, that same boyish smile that always made your heart skip a beat.

“we should clean up, baby,” he said soft, his voice warm and coaxing as he continued to gently clean the slickness between your legs.

“tired,” you murmured in response, your voice thick with exhaustion. “tomorrow.” the word came out as more of a sigh than anything else. you stretched your arms out toward him, your lips forming a small pout. “cuddle. now.”

jeongguk laughed fondly at your sleepy demands, shaking his head as he tossed the towel to the floor. without a second thought, he slid back into bed beside you, pulling the covers over your naked bodies. the warmth of the blanket and the weight of him beside you immediately soothed the lingering shivers in your body, and you sighed in relief.

instinctively, you reached for him, your leg curling around his, your hands seeking the familiar comfort of his waist. your head rested on his chest, where you could feel the steady thump of his heart beneath your cheek. his arm wrapped around you naturally, his fingers tracing gentle circles along your spine.

it wasn’t unusual for you to cuddle, especially during movie nights, or simply when the other needed comfort.

but this was different. there was a new weight to the way your bodies pressed together, your brain grasping around the reality of what had just happened.

your first instinct faced with that thought was to chuckle lightly, your sleepy brain struggling to come up with any more reasonable reaction. when he hummed and moved to look down at your face, you hid yourself further in his chest, your voice muffled, “i can’t believe you fucked me.”

he sounded tauntingly cocky as he moved your hair from your forehead, “now that you put it like that, well, i did.”

your drowsy state lowered all your inhibitions, your eyes fluttering close as you spilled your honesty, “i’ve been fantasizing about this moment for so long.”

“yeah? what a naughty girl,” his playful tone made you blush, the low voice and the hand grazing at the small of your back making you clench around nothing, still sensitive.

you lightly pushed at his chest with a weak smile, “you literally said you were waiting for it to happen, too.”

jeongguk’s eyes gleamed with amusement, his tone dripping in mock shame, “did i, pretty? did i do that? oh god, how indecent of me.”

the taunting banter went on for a while, your fond grins almost breaking your faces in two halves as you started a quick tickle war. it was almost surreal how easily the two of you slipped back into the habituality of your dynamic, as if nothing had changed at all. and in a way, nothing had. you were still you, and he was still jeongguk— the boy who teased you relentlessly and made you laugh until your stomach hurt.

as the laughter faded, your body began to relax completely, your muscles loosening as you sank further into his embrace. your head rested against his toned pecs, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek. his fingers continued their gentle caresses along your back, and for the first time in a long while, you felt completely at peace.

but jeongguk, even in the quiet comfort of the moment, couldn’t let it end just yet. his mind was still racing, still full of thoughts of you.

he wanted to hear your voice. wanted to be soothed by its melody. he spoke quietly, almost hesitant, his breath warm against your hair, “don’t fall asleep so soon. i’ll miss you.”

your voice was rough with weariness, but you were quick with your answer, “i’m literally lying on top of you.”

“i know,” he whispered, his thumb brushing softly against your waist. “but i wanna talk to you.”

with great effort, you blinked your eyes open, lifting your head just enough to look at him through half-lidded eyes, “it’s your fault if i can’t talk right now.”

“damn, i got a magic stick,” his voice sounded oddly proud of it and you groaned, hitting him weakly on his stomach and causing him to giggle.

“you’re so gross.”

“you hurt me!” he whined dramatically and it made you roll your eyes amusedly.

chuckling softly, you took his face in your hands and pressed your fingers gently against his lips, “shut up.” your voice was playfully fond as you nestled back against him, your eyelids growing heavier by the second, dozing off again.

at least trying to, because only a minute later his soft voice resounded again.

it was barely audible in the stillness, “___.”

“hmm?”

“i’m so happy.”

his whispered voice tickled your ear and you giggled, brushing it on your shoulder with a sheepish grin on your lips.

you looked up at him through droopy eyelids, both your orbs swimming in a deep feeling you couldn’t name, “i am too. i don’t think i can feel my pussy anymore, but i’m very happy nonetheless.”

your wittiness even after being completely drained of all your energy surprised him, the laugh escaping him moving in his chest and reflecting in your own fond smile.

he left a peck on your forehead, bringing you to lay down on him again, “you’re so silly. i love you.”

the words left his lips so naturally, as if he had always known them to be true, and they sounded so right that it took both of you another moment to realize their implications.

your heart stopped, and both of you froze. your breath hitched and your eyes widened, but you stayed still, too startled to look up at him.

you felt his heart beat impossibly faster in your ear, and you perfectly pictured the shock that was painting his expression right now.

his hands clutched your sides tighter, trying to find a way to keep his running mind from spiraling, your silence not helping whatsoever. he stuttered, “i— i mean. i— oh god, i’m so sorry.”

the hurt in his tone immediately made your chest clench, panic flushing in your veins. you met his eyes alarmedly, jumping between them, “jeongguk. don’t be sorry. you love me?”

he wasn’t sure what to do, couldn’t figure out if the feeling was mirrored as intensely in you as it was in him. it had been building inside him for weeks, lingering beneath the surface, making his heart race and his thoughts blur every time you were near.

the realization hadn’t come to him in a grand, sweeping moment but in the quiet of the bookstore one random afternoon. he had been stacking shelves, mindlessly organizing the rows of novels, when he caught sight of you. you were tucked into a corner, absorbed in a murakami novel, your fingers brushing the edges of the pages with care.

he hadn’t expected you to show up that day. he was sure you’d mentioned having lectures and that you couldn’t meet up with him, so seeing you there, completely unannounced, had startled him.

he remembered standing there for a moment, frozen in place, just staring at you walk through the door. and then you had lifted your head, and your eyes met his across the quiet, sunlit room.

the smile you gave him was sheepish as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, your confession tumbling out softly, “i skipped my classes. i wanted to be here. needed to see you.”

it was shy, and said with a feeling in your gaze that he was scared to decipher.

but he couldn’t help the way it settled in his heart. stubborn, unmoving. the truth was clearly in front of him, and it took the semblance of your face.

you were the truth. he was in love.

so, he could only be truthful to you, “i— yes. i love you.”

the words sank into your skin, filling you with warmth and a sense of completeness that made your chest swell. you exhaled deeply through your nose, trying to steady the burst of emotion building inside you, but your eyes softened, and a tear slipped down your cheek as you smiled, wide and genuine.

“i love you too, gguk.”

it was a simple reply, but the weight behind it carried everything. you didn’t need to say anything more. you couldn’t even if you wanted to, your lips immediately eating at each other, gulping down your furious flow of thoughts and accepting. hearing. feeling. seeing.

all the times you forced to keep shut and convince yourself that what you saw in him and all his care towards you was just coming from a place that would forever see you two as friends. all the secret touches, the shared meals, the warm nights on your couch. all the books you read for him, all the lines he highlighted for you.

it was love. all along. and you felt its power against him, your heartbeats syncing.

when you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, both of you breathing softly in the quiet aftermath of the confession. jeongguk’s arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

the silence that followed wasn’t awkward or uncertain. it was peaceful. comfortable.

and lulled by the quiet, jeongguk ended up being the first to fall asleep, his nervous energy fading away, replaced by a deep sense of contentment. his breathing became slow and steady, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his muscles relaxing.

despite your earlier exhaustion, you were too wired to sleep. you were still flowing with excitement. the night’s events hit you with great force, and kept you wide awake.

quietly, you reached for your phone on the nightstand, careful not to disturb jeongguk. the screen lit up, showing the time. 3:47 am.

even though it was late, you couldn’t resist. you pulled up jimin’s contact and pressed the call button. waiting. he was always awake at this hour.

jimin had been your best friend for years. your loyal confidant, the one you could splutter all your feelings to and never be judged. he had been by your side all along this particular ride, going from a silly, little crush to feeling raging love for the boy in your arms.

you smiled wide at the prospect of jimin’s reaction at the news you were about to share with him. he was the first person you wanted to inform, he deserved to know.

“bitch, don’t tell me you’re crying over jeongguk, ‘cause—“

those are the first words that came through the line, and they made you silently chuckle at the irony, immediately engaging in his banter, “well, sorta kinda. he said he loves me.”

there was a beat of silence on the other end, followed by jimin’s amused scoff, “wow. crazy news. would have never guessed.”

you were stunned, to say the least. your mouth hung open as you whisper-yelled, “bitch! is this seriously all you have to say?”

you were mindful not to wake jeongguk with your conversation, looking down at him with care. his cheek was squished on your small breast, his mouth pouting and releasing heavy puffs. one of his hands rested protectively over your side, and his thumb brushed your under boob.

he was cozily nestled between your legs, his wavy hair brushing your chin, and he looked so peaceful it was like he was made to be held by you.

you couldn’t help the tears from welling in your eyes as jimin’s next words accompanied the view of the boy you loved, now finally yours.

“babe, c’mon, it was obvious.”

[nightingale-prompts]

Saving Batboy

First | Previous | Next

It was as though he was being led through the city. Dick seemed to know exactly where he should go next as he drove.

Dick turned off his location as he closed in on Joker's location. If anyone had doubts about what would happen tonight they knew now. The clown dies tonight.

Batman never did it because he knew there would be no coming back once he crossed that line but he was not Batman.

Tim knew the moment Nightwing's symbol disappeared that he had found Joker's location. He knew he could track him still based on where he was before but he held off. The last time Dick crossed the line and killed the Joker, Tim was there to stop him. In the time since Tim had grown to regret it. Especially after Jason's return. He should be avenged after everything that happened.

Tim never put much thought into what happened when he was kidnapped just like Danny. Joker Jr was just a nightmare and everyone pretends it didn't happen. His past self doesn't exist to him and the gaps in his memory are better as they are.

If Dick was really going to finish this then Tim wasn't going to stop him. Bruce's code was his code alone. What of the Robins that suffer for it? What about his kids that he loves to the point of self-destruction if they die?

It was clear to Tim now. Batman isn't strong enough to kill Joker. If he can't handle it, someone else would.

Maybe Dick just cared more. Or maybe he had seen this happen too many times to sit by and let it happen again. The cost be damned.

Tim took a deep breath. He knew it was a bad move but he shut down the bat computer. No one could locate each other for the next 10 minutes. Enough time to give Dick the lead he really needs. All the comms are down and no information can be shared.

Tim looked up and saw Alfred putting down a cup of tea for him. Tim felt like a child caught doing something wrong under Alfred. But Alfred nodded wordlessly before turning to leave. He cast a forlorn glance at Jason's robin uniform before ascending the stairs.

****

"I was hoping Batman would come for the little bat. Oh sorry, I mean the boy." Joker mocked holding Danny by the back of the neck.

The teen's body was limp. His silver locks stained a rusty brown from dried blood. Blood covered his back and legs. If there had been any doubt if the wings were real there is none now.

"…" Nightwingwing said nothing. His fist clenched.

"You know I debated skinning him next. That fur of his would be a lovely shawl. It's so soft. But it looks like I won't have the time now." Joker provoked, running a hand through the boy's white neck fur.

"Get your hands off him." Nightwing demanded, his eyes locked on Danny for any signs of life.

"You know I am so curious what he was doing here. I was about to build a new trap here for fun when I stumbled upon this little guy here. Practically gift-wrapped. Did he run away from you? Just like you did from good ol'papa bat." Joker's smile widened sickeningly "This all feels so familiar, doesn't it little bird? Are you going to finish what you started?"

"I'm never letting you hurt my family again." No witty one-liners. No games. This bad joke ends today.

****

Batman had scoured the area. He memorize the last location Dick was before the system went down. He wasn't these kids' father for nothing he knew what they were doing.

When sound came back he had already made it to the abandoned factory. The comms rang back to life as the sounds of crying came through.

"Nononono…please no. Wake up. Please wake up." It was Dick's voice. "It's okay. I'm here now. So just wake up. We need to get home soon. Your favorite show will be on soon. WAKE UP! YOU CAN'T DIE!"

Batman bolted to their location and found Dick hovering over Danny trying to resuscitate him.

His son looked at him with pleading eyes.

"I can't hear his heart. He's not breathing." He let out a shaky breath. As distressed tears ran down his cheeks.

Bruce knelt next to them. Danny didn't react to the pressure on his chest. The pain should have at least caused an involuntary jerk if he wasn't too far gone.

Bruce signaled Dick to move back as he checked Danny's pulse again. Nothing. And he wasn't breathing. Bruce looked at his son. Deep down Dick probably knew.

"I'm sorry. He's gone." Bruce said simply as he took off his cloak.

Danny looked so peaceful. Like he was sleeping soundly. Bruce hated that his own suspension had been the thing that had prevented him from having a relationship with his own grandson. He felt foolish to not realize that of course Danny and Batboy were the same. It was a brilliant disguise. But he'd never get to say this to the boy.

Bruce wrapped the boy in his cloak.

"Come on. We'll fix this." He told Dick, carrying Danny for him.

The journey back to the manor was silent until.

"I'm sorry." Bruce said.

"Don't. Just Don't. He's my son. Its my fault." Dick rasped his voice scratchy from crying.

Bruce felt a bitter sting. That was exactly what he felt when he lost Jason and what happened with Tim. When Damian lost his life. These pains didn't go away.

When they arrived back in the Batcave Bruce laid Danny's body on the table. The others were notified about what happened and had already gathered.

Barbara looked like she had bawled her eyes out as she hugged Stephanie.

Damian had pressed himself close to Tim as the older brother told him that it was going to be okay.

The new hole in the wall was clearly Jason if his bloodied knuckles were any clues.

Cassandra paced the floor deep in thought. She was moments away from starting a new crusade.

Duke stared off into the distance. His anger boiling under the surface. All he could think about was the number of lives ruined by the Joker and even in death he took another.

Dick stood still as a statue. Thinking about if Danny could be brought back and even if he was his wings were gone. What if he was gone for good? Could he live like that?

Never had he understood Bruce more than in that moment.

Bruce braced himself for what would come next. He had a plan to bring Danny back at any cost.

But suddenly a sound broke through the tension.

A sneeze.

A fucking sneeze.

It came up from under the cloak.

Everyone snapped to look at the body hidden under the cloak. It shifted under the heavy black blanket groggily and yawned. Then Danny jumped up twisting to feel his back.

"What happened!!" He yelped.

[thewrstinme]

“You always do that, don’t you?”

bestfriend!noah sebastian x reader

tags: 18+ mdni smut, overstim if you squint, denial ig, aftercare, praise, fluff, bestfriends who r just in love w eachother idk dawg

notes: first fanfic i’ve written! hope you like!

It’s late at night, and you’re lounging on the couch in your shared apartment with Noah. You’re wearing one of his oversized band t-shirts and a pair of shorts, your hair in a messy bun, and your piercing eyes lazily watching TV. Noah walks in, freshly showered, shirtless, and still damp, his grey sweatpants slung low on his hips. He sits beside you, close enough for your bodies to brush.

You’ve both had a long day, Noah having just finished a show, and the adrenaline is still buzzing between you both. As you sit there, Noah leans in, resting his head on your shoulder, his arm draped around your waist. You chuckle, teasing him about his dramatic entrance. He nuzzles into your neck, his breath warm against your skin, causing your to instinctively shiver.

“You always do that, don’t you?” you murmur, poking at his damp hair. “Get all close when you’re like this.”

“Like what?” he smirks, his lips brushing lightly against your neck in response.

“Like… clingy,” you quip with a smirk of your own, though you don’t move away. In fact, you shift slightly, letting his head rest more comfortably against you.

His fingers absentmindedly start tracing patterns on your stomach, dipping under the hem of the t-shirt, just enough to make you squirm. There’s a charged silence between you two. He leans in closer, his lips brushing the side of your jaw, playful but deliberate. You turn your head slightly, meeting his gaze, the distance between you closing.

“You like it though, don’t you?” His voice is teasing, but there’s a deeper undertone now, as his hand gently cups your cheek.

You tilt your head in challenge, your lips barely brushing against his. “Maybe,” you whisper.

18+ under cut

The space between you both dissolves as Noah closes the gap, pressing his lips against yours in a slow, lingering kiss. There’s no rush, no urgency—just the weight of unspoken words and your unorthodox bond. His hand slides to your waist, pulling you closer until you’re half in his lap, fingers tangled in his hair as the kiss deepens.

The flirtation, the playful touches, the banter—all of it culminates in this quiet, sensual moment, where nothing needs to be said, and everything is understood.

You pull back slightly, your breath a little uneven, eyes still locked on Noah’s. There’s a flicker of something in his gaze—affection, amusement, maybe even curiosity—as his hand rests firmly on your lower back, keeping you close.

“You’re trouble, Sebastian,” you murmur, biting your lower lip, the tension between you both palpable.

Noah raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, I’m trouble?” he teases, his fingers lightly brushing against the hem of your shirt again, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You know you are,” you retort, playfully pushing at his chest, but it’s half-hearted. Your body betrays you; you don’t really want to move away, and he knows it. His touch lingers on your skin, familiar and intoxicating.

In one smooth motion, Noah shifts, bringing you fully into your lap now, his arms encircling your waist. Your breath catches as you feel the warmth of his bare chest against yours, the closeness making your heart race. His hands rest on your hips, his thumbs tracing slow, deliberate circles just above your waistband.

“Admit it,” he says softly, his lips brushing against your ear, “you love this.”

You chuckle, the sound low and throaty. “I’d say tolerate,” you shoot back, though the slight tremor in your voice gives you away. You can feel your pulse quickening, the heat rising between you both. Your fingers run over his shoulders, tracing the lines of his tattoos, your touch lingering as if memorizing every inch of him.

Noah leans back slightly, giving you a better look at him, his smirk turning softer, more intimate. “You’re bad at pretending you don’t like me,” he teases again, his hands tightening slightly on your hips, grounding you in place.

“Shut up,” You whisper, leaning down to kiss him again, this time harder, more insistent. Your hands move to your jaw, fingers brushing against the rough stubble, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Your lips part against hers, your tongues meeting in a slow, heated rhythm that makes your toes curl.

He groans softly, his hands moving up your back, one of them tangling in your messy bun and pulling you closer. The kiss grows more intense, filled with a mixture of playful energy and simmering tension that’s been building between you both for ages. There’s an undeniable familiarity to the way you touch—like you’ve done this a thousand times before, yet every kiss feels new, electric.

You press your body into his, and he responds by tilting you slightly, making you feel weightless in his hold. His lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of soft, wet kisses as he goes, the sensation making your breath hitch in your throat. He reaches your collarbone, nipping gently, and you gasp softly, gripping his shoulders tighter.

“Thought you said we weren’t doing this,” Noah murmurs against your skin, though he doesn’t stop. His tone is light, teasing, but there’s an edge of seriousness to it.

You pull back, your blue eyes meeting his again, and for a moment, you both just stare at each other, your breathing heavy and your hearts pounding in sync. There’s a line here—one you’ve been dancing around for a long time.

“Maybe I lied,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, as your lips find his once more, and everything else fades away.

You melt into the kiss, the warmth of his body melding with yours. You tangle your fingers in his damp hair, drawing him closer until there's nothing between you but the heat and your shared breath. Your heart beats with a newfound rhythm, each thud echoing the urgency that only Noah can create. Your lips part, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth, deepening the connection between you two.

Slowly, you ease your weight onto him, your bodies slotting together in a familiar dance. Your hands roam over his bare chest, feeling the strength of his muscles and the warmth of his skin.

You both know that this isn't just a passing moment. There's depth and purpose behind every movement. Your hands slide onto his chest, feeling his taut muscles and the heat of his flesh. Your lips move away from his, leaving a trail of soft kisses down the side of his neck. When you reach the spot where his neck and shoulder meet, you nip at the skin, just hard enough to make him groan.

He responds with a low groan, his hand slipping under the hem of your shirt, his fingertips feather-light along the curve of your spine. You shudder at the simple touch.

You can't help but smirk against his skin as he gasps at the unexpected sensation, the sound sending a thrill down your spine. Your fingers continue their exploration, tracing the outline of his hipbone before sliding even lower.

Noah's hands grip your waist, pulling you onto him even closer. You can feel his arousal growing, and it only adds to the intensity of this dance. He moves his hands up your back, pushing your shirt up with it.

His hands are warm and steady as he pulls your shirt off, leaving you in just your underwear. His lips find yours again, with a desperate hunger. His fingers dance along your curves, sending tingles down your spine. His touch is both tender and possessive, as if he's marking his claim upon you, and you let him.

Noah’s lips move down your neck, following the curve of your collarbone. You can’t help but squirm beneath him, every touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body. He knows all your sensitive spots, and he doesn’t hesitate to exploit them. You arch your back, pressing into his touch, your fingers tangling in his hair. His hands find the waistband of your underwear, and slowly, he starts to pull them down, his lips still moving, worshiping your body.

You feel exposed but also strangely free, as if every layer of your defenses has been stripped away, leaving only the raw.

“Fuck baby, you’re so beautiful laid out for me like this.” Noah sighs.

The words roll from Noah's lips in a soft, low murmur against your ear, his hands running over your skin with reverence. You can feel the heat in his touch, the depth of his lust, but also the sincerity in his words. It's a heady mix, and you find yourself wanting to lose yourself in it completely.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, clinging to him as he presses light kisses to your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The rhythm of your breathing seems to sync with his, slow and deep, filling the room with a heady, intimate hum.

Noah’s hands slide lower, cupping your backside, holding you closely as he kisses a path up your chest. His lips trace your collarbone, sending a shiver down your body. His hands knead gently, and you respond instinctively, your hips rising to meet him. You can feel his arousal against your thigh, a physical reflection of the shared hunger between you.

His movements are slow, almost worshipful, as if he’s committing every contour of your body to memory. You feel claimed, desired, in a way that leaves you breathless.

"You're so damn gorgeous," he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire. "Every inch of you."

His words, laced with intensity, mingle with the heat of the moment. Your body responds to him instinctively, a symphony of sensations. His kisses grow more deliberate, his hands more possessive, almost as if he can't get enough—doesn't want to let go. With an urgent groan, his mouth finds yours again, kissing you deeply, passionately, his tongue slipping between your lips.

Your breath catches in your throat, but the heat of the moment carries you along. You find yourself responding to Noah with an equal fervor, your kisses growing wilder, more heated. Your fingers tangle in his hair, drawing him closer, as if you fear he might pull away.

"I want you, Noah," You whisper, your voice barely more than a breath against his lips. "All of you."

His hands roam your body, tracing the lines of the tattoo painted on your shoulder, the curve of your ass. He seems to respond without words, kissing you with an urgency that borders on desperation.

"You have all of me," He breathes, his lips moving down your jaw, nibbling gently. "You’ve always had all of me."

The confession hangs in the air like a tangible thing, a raw admission. His hands continue their journey across your body, touching, caressing, claiming. Every touch, every kiss, adds to the intimacy, the connection growing stronger with each moment. You can feel it in the way his body responds to yours, in the way his breath mingles with yours.

Your skin burns with each touch, each caress. The room is filled with the sound of unsteady breaths, soft moans, and the rustle of skin against fabric. Every sense is heightened, every nerve thrumming with both anticipation and pleasure. It's a whirlwind of sensations, a storm of desire that you're both adrift in.

"I need you, baby," Noah whispers, his voice rougher, a reflection of his rising need. "Can I have you, sweetheart? Let me take care of you.”

You can hardly think, hardly process the magnitude of his words. Your body reacts to his touch before your mind can catch up, your hips arching towards him in answer to his question. Your response is a breathless, "Yes," whispered against his lips.

His hands are everywhere, seemingly everywhere at once. Your body responds to his touch with a fervour that's almost primal, and you can feel every inch of him against you, the fire in your blood burning hotter with every passing moment.

"Good girl," he murmured against your skin, his lips moving lower down your body, tracing a path over your breasts, down your stomach, his fingers hooking under the waistband of your panties.

"Now hold still for me, love." his mouth was hot and wet as he continued kissing his way over your body, stopping between your legs and pressing a kiss against your heat through the fabric.

He could never get enough of you.

The heat of his mouth sends a shiver through you, and you instinctively follow his direction, your body going still, the tension in your body coiling even tighter. His lips are like a brand against you, a claiming, leaving you trembling with anticipation.

He nuzzles briefly against your thigh, his tongue flicking out to taste you through the thin barrier of fabric. The sensation is electric, and you find yourself arching into him, your breath hitching in your throat, your nails digging into the sofa.

"Noah," You breathe, the word a barely audible gasp as he continues, teasing and tasting you so achingly close. Your body trembles with the intense sensations, your mind a swirling vortex of desire. He responds by pressing firmer kisses against your most sensitive areas, his fingers skimming beneath the waistband of your panties, teasingly close but not quite touching where you most yearn for his touch.

The anticipation builds, your body humming with tension as you wait for his next move. His hands are relentless, exploring every inch of you, as if he can’t get close enough, can’t get enough of you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging gently, urging him closer, longing for that release only he can bring.

His response is a low, gravelly chuckle against your skin, the vibrations sending a shiver down your spine. He doesn't hasten his pace, instead prolonging the sweet, sweet agony. As he works you, you feel yourself becoming more and more undone, the world narrowing to just this moment, to where his body is against yours, to the way he's drawing you closer to the edge, only to pull you back, keeping you there, poised on the brink of ecstasy but not quite allowing you the final push.

“Eager?” He taunts. You can hear the smirk in his words, the sound vibrating against your skin. The slow burn he’s created, the steady heat of his touch, is both exquisite and maddening.

"Please," You whisper, your voice a mix of need and pleading, a soft whine escaping your lips. Your body is a heady mess of sensations, all pointing towards that one release he's holding just out of reach.

He pauses, pulling back slightly, his brown eyes glinting in the dim light. “Please what, love?"

The absence of his lips, of his touch, is like a vacuum, sucking the air from your lungs. The tension in you is at its breaking point. His eyes seem to gleam with mischief and a touch of satisfaction as he watches you squirm on the bed, his fingers tracing circles on your inner thighs, purposefully close but not quite where you want them.

Words are beyond you now. All you can respond with is a soft, insistent whimper, your hips rolling slightly in a desperate attempt to guide him to where you need him most.

Your body practically vibrates with need, aching for the release he's been withholding. Noah knows exactly what he's doing, his touch, his taunts, all calculated to push you to the limit, and you're helpless to resist.

With the slightest hitch of his breath, he leans in again, his lips touching the thin fabric that still separates you. The feel of his breath mingling with yours is like a spark igniting the tinder of your need, sending the heat pooling in your core.

"You know what I want to hear, my sweet girl," he murmurs against your skin, his voice low, his words a deliberate command. His fingers ghost over your panties again, a soft brush that sends a rush of want coursing through you.

All you can do is whine in response.

"Use your words, pretty girl," Noah urges, his voice deep and commanding. His fingers trace idle circles along the edge of your panties, a teasing caress designed to drive you wild. "Tell me what you want, hmm? I can wait all night if I have to."

His taunt sends a ripple of impatience through you. You're ready, eager for everything he has to give, but his teasing words are making this game of sensual torment both exhilarating and maddening.

"Noah," you say, your voice a husky whisper, "I need you, every inch of you. I want you in every way possible. I need to feel you, to taste you, to touch every inch of you." As you speak, your fingers trail over his skin, your words echoing the urgency in your touch.

He rewards your confession with a press of his lips, his smile teasing as he murmurs, "There you go. See, that wasn't so hard, now was it?" he purrs mockingly.

He slowly drags your panties down your legs, the touch of his fingers on your bare skin like a jolt to your already hypersensitive body. Then, with a swift, confident motion, he moves between your legs, his hands bracing your thighs.

Noah's lips press against your hip, his tongue flicking out to taste you delicately. He doesn't stop there, trailing kisses lower, his touch lingering, deliberate. As his lips find their target, a low groan escapes him, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh as he murmurs words that both praise and tease.

"So sweet," he murmurs, voice low and rough with want. His tongue teases you, tasting and exploring. "Do you know how long I've wanted you like this?"

His lips hover above your most sensitive places, so close you can feel the warmth of his breath, but not quite close enough to touch. He lingers there, tantalizingly close, while his fingers continue their maddening exploration of your body. You can feel the heat rising within you, a growing frustration that he's making you wait for the release you crave.

"Noah," you plead, your words a mix of need and frustration. "You’re the worst.”

He chuckles against your thigh, the sound sending a warm puff of air against your most sensitive area, just enough to tease without satisfying, "Oh, I'm the worst, am I?" He murmurs, his lips tracing a path of feather-light kisses up your leg, stopping just short of where you ache for him most.

He pulls back slightly, a cocky grin on his lips.

Oh, he's enjoying this. His lips and touch are slow, methodical, every move calculated to draw out this delicious torture before you. He knows exactly what he's doing, how to set your nerves on fire with anticipation, how to leave you gasping for more.

You can feel the heat building within you with each passing moment, a rising tide of desire that threatens to swamp you. You try to squirm, to seek more, but his fingers hold you in place, preventing your movements, the smirk on his face telling you he's in control here, completely.

His lips are a mere breath away from your most intimate area, and he continues to tease, his tongue flicking playfully, tasting and savoring you, but never quite giving you that elusive pleasure you crave. All the while, you can feel the heat of his breath against your core, a tantalizing reminder of how close he is. You're writhing now under him, the wait becoming torturous, your body craving the release he's withholding.

His low chuckle sends a shiver through you, the sound reverberating in the air like dark music. "Impatient, huh?”

He finally relents, his mouth finding your core. There's a moment of pure ecstasy as he finally gives you what you've been craving. His tongue exploring you, devouring you with a reverence that's both tender and carnal. He's relentless in his attentions, his tongue teasing and tasting, each stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

He lifts his head, meeting your gaze, his eyes dark and intense. "That's a good girl," he murmurs before returning to his work, his fingers joining his tongue, finding every sensitive spot you didn't know you had.

His words wash over you like a wave, drowning you in desire. Your head is spinning, your body aflame with need, your fingers gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer into you. His expertise is obvious, every move calculated to push you further towards the edge, to bring you closer to climax. Through the haze of pleasure he creates, all you can do is moan, arching into him as the pressure builds, your peak almost within reach

And then… he stops, his tongue and fingers stilling, his lips moving away from you, leaving you on the cusp of release, the anticipation agonizing.

You're a mess, a trembling mass of sensation, the world around you reduced to the space between you. You stare up at Noah, his eyes dark with want, his lips glistening, a mischievous glint in his eyes. You can tell he delights in this power, the ability to bring you to the brink and then pull away, the knowledge that he'll push you over the edge, but not quite yet. He's still in control, holding you at a tantalizing threshold, his words a taunting melody.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice a rough, sultry rasp. "So eager, so needy," he finishes with a soft chuckle, his fingers caressing your inner thigh. "But patience. I'm not done with you."

He leans back in, his eyes never leaving yours. He resumes where he left off, his tongue swirling, teasing, his fingers finding that sweet spot again, building back up the heat that had just began to fade. He's relentless, relentless, building you back up to that edge once more, keeping you there, his lips murmuring a steady stream of praise.

And just as you reach the peak, as your body is about to break, he once again pulls away, your climax denied. You whimper, pleading, but his fingers stilled, his lips merely hovering, leaving you in this sweet agony, dancing on the brink of release but never quite reaching it, your body trembling with pent-up need.

You feel like a live wire, every nerve ending humming with pent-up energy. You're close, so close, your body on the edge yet again, but as before, just as you're about to soar over the peak, Noah stops, leaving you hanging in this delicious limbo of anticipation.

The frustration, the frustration is immense. Your nails dig into his thighs, your breath quickening to a shallow gasp. He's relentless with his teasing, but you can also see the satisfaction in his eyes, the way his lips curve into a smirk. He loves having this effect on you, enjoys wielding this power over you. You can see it in the way he moves, in the way his hands and mouth move over your body, all calculated to draw out this sweet torment.

"Noah, please, I can't take any more." The words spill from your lips, part plea, part protest, but mostly need. Your voice is shaky, your whole body shaking from the stimulation, from the way he's been slowly driving you insane with his touch. The ache between your legs is almost painful, and now that you've started speaking, you can't stop. "I need… I need you, now, please, Noah. Please, just-"

But before you can finish, Noah silences you with a kiss, deep and hungry. His lips claim yours, his tongue thrusting into your mouth in a way that mirrors the ache you crave between your legs. His hands trace a path down your body, finally, finding your core again, his fingers slipping inside you, curling expertly, hitting that spot that makes your hips jerk up, your body finally given the release it craves.

You cry out, the orgasm washing over you, the intensity taking you by storm. Through the rush of pleasure, you can feel Noah still working you, guiding you through the waves of your climax until you're gasping, your body limp and writhing as the ecstasy continues to ripple through you.

Noah's voice is a breathless hum against your ear, his words a murmured whisper of praise. "That's my good girl, so good," he murmurs, his fingers still lazily tracing patterns on your body. "God, you’re so beautiful."

He knows you well, his knowledge of your body like a map he's committed to memory. He knows how to touch you to make your toes curl, to make you arch and moan, to make you forget your own name.

As your body begins to tremble with the aftershocks of your release, he keeps his fingers moving, dragging out your pleasure with every brush of his touch. "Such a pretty girl," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble in your ear, "so perfect for me, aren't you?"

There’s a smug satisfaction in his tone, as if he’s relishing in the power he has over you, in the way he can make your body react to his touch, his words. He plays you like an instrument, pushing the right buttons to pull out the most beautiful sounds. He’s a conductor of your pleasure, and he knows exactly how to elicit the most exquisite responses from you.

"You’re shaking, love," he says, voice smug and satisfied. "Is that because of me?"

The question is a challenge, a dare, a taunt. He knows the answer, but he wants to hear you say it, to admit that he has you in the palm of his hands, completely at his mercy. He loves this control, his fingers continuing to tease, continuing to explore, even though you're still trembling from your release. It's as if he can't get enough, as if he intends to push you past the point of pleasure and into the realm of near torture.

He knows just how far he can push you, how far he can take you before the pleasure turns almost painful, the boundary between pleasure and overstimulation a fine line he enjoys walking. Your reactions, your whimpers and gasps, only fuel his desire further, his touch becoming more insistent.

"Come on, sweetheart," he murmurs, "give me another. I know you can do it.”

His words, spoken in a breathless whisper against your skin, are both a challenge and a taunt, as if he’s daring you to give in again. And as he continues to tease and taunt, his teeth grazing against your skin, you can feel yourself responding, your breathing quickening, a soft moan escaping your lips as you do.

“You can give me another, right baby? Be good for me one more time, my pretty girl.” He murmurs, his fingers working you gently, his lips peppering wet kisses down your midriff, lips pressing gently against your core. “Just one more time, want to feel you cum on my mouth.”

His fingers pause for just a moment, their skilled ministrations on hold. “Can I have one more, angel?” he murmurs, his voice low and needy, his lips brushing over your thighs, his breath warm against your sensitive flesh.

Your eyes meet his, and for a moment, everything else fades away. The world narrows down to just Noah and you, the anticipation hanging heavy in the air as you both hang on the edge of this unspoken moment of consent.

Your response is a nod, a barely perceptible movement that seems to echo through the silent room, bouncing between the hushed breaths and shared glances. Noah’s fingers begin their movement again, a slow, deliberate rhythm that resonates through you, building the tension once more. His words, murmured against your skin, are like an incantation to a divine entity.

"That's it, my beautiful girl," he sighs, "Just like that. Again."

His mouth follows the path his fingers have mapped, his kisses, his touch, it’s electric, drawing you towards another peak. With each touch, you’re winding tighter, the tension building to a fever pitch. You’re on the brink, so close to the edge, but Noah seems content to linger here, prolonging the moment, drawing out the anticipation.

"Look at you,” he murmurs, “So beautiful, so perfect. One more time for me, sweetheart. Cum for me again."

Your body is a mess of sensations, every nerve standing on end, everything reduced to this one, raw moment of pleasure. You can feel Noah everywhere, his fingers, his mouth, his breath, each small action sending a jolt through you, the pressure building to a crescendo that you can’t bear anymore. As you finally let go, it’s like a tidal wave of sensation rolling over you, your whole body shuddering with the intensity.

The wave crashes over you violently, your body convulsing with the intensity, your breath catching in your lungs as it washes over you, consuming you. You find yourself gasping out his name, the pleasure too intense for words, the words "Noah" and “please" the only coherent sounds that escape your lips.

Noah's fingers continue their movement, drawing out every last wave of pleasure till you're left panting, trembling, your muscles taut, every nerve ending thrumming with the afterglow of your second release.

Noah’s mouth continues its work, his touch softer now, guiding you through your release, his lips tracing a path of slow, gentle kisses over your thighs.

"There you go," he breaths, his own voice uneven, filled with his own arousal that he's been holding back. "That's my good girl. So good for me."

As you come down from your high, your body still feeling the lingering aftershocks of your release, he finally pulls away, his eyes finding yours, his gaze darkened with desire and satisfaction.

He crawls up your body, his movements now a stark contrast to the controlled precision he displayed moments ago. His lips find yours in a searing kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in an unrestrained passion that is his way of showing his own need and desire.

His hands roam your body again, mapping every curve, every soft space between bone and muscle with a newfound urgency. He's no longer teasing, no longer holding back, and the air is thick with the heady scent of his want, his need. This time, when he speaks, his voice is rough, edged with a desire that is almost as desperate as yours.

"I need you," he growls, his lips finding your neck, his fingers fumbling with his waistband. "Now, sweetheart. I need to feel you now."

There's a raw, primal quality to him now, his control fully discarded. You can feel it in the way he's touching you, his hands a little less gentle, a little more insistent, as if he can't touch you enough, can't seem to get close enough. His need mirrors your own, the air around you thrumming with a mutual desire that is hard to ignore or resist.

He’s quickly ridding himself of the rest of his clothes, his movements frantic with need. Finally, he's naked against you, his skin smooth and hot against yours. He pauses for just a moment, his eyes searching yours, finding the answer even before you can speak. And then his lips are on yours again, his fingers tracing a path of exploration that seems insatiable. Every touch is fervent, every breath shared heavy with anticipation.

“Noah… please.” You whisper breathlessly, your body on the verge of falling limp into the sofa.

There's no hesitation, no teasing, just the urgency of his response. He doesn’t just hear your plea; he feels it, his body vibrating with anticipation. And then he's pressing into you, joining with you in one urgent, smooth motion, filling you entirely. Your joint moans echo in the room, a harmony of need and desire that fills the air. His movements are steady, each stroke deep and purposeful, his fingers gripping your hips as he pulls you closer, claiming you, filling you, making you his.

He was a man consumed, drunk on the sound of your voice, the feel of your skin, the way your bodies moved together. He was lost in you, in the fire burning between you, his own need matching yours, his every movement a declaration of desire.

Each thrust hits a spot deep inside that has you gasping, your back arching off the couch, your hands clutching at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. "Fuck!" you moan, the word a desperate plea. "Noah, please, more…"

The praise seems to ignite something in him, his movements sharpening, his eyes darkening with need. He's relentless, driving into you with a precision that has your head swimming. Every stroke, every movement, he's drawing out your pleasure, building you back up to that edge again.

"Look at me," he growls, his lips pressing against your neck, the words both demand and request. "Look at me, pretty girl."

And as you meet his gaze, there’s a sudden shift in the air, in the intensity of the act. His eyes hold yours, mirroring your own pleasure, your connection deepening beyond the physical, beyond the raw carnal desire. His movements continue, each thrust sending a shudder down your spine, each touch leaving you gasping. Each time he buries himself in you, it's like a vow, a binding pledge.

"Beautiful,” Noah whispers, his voice a husky rasp against your skin, his lips tracing a path down your neck. "You feel so good, angel. So perfect."

His voice is barely a caress as he whispers against your skin, each word punctuated with a thrust that makes your breath catch in your throat. Each movement, each word, seems to set your nerves ablaze, the tension coiling tighter and tighter as if it could snap at any moment.

"Baby," he murmurs, his voice rough, "Look at me. I want to see you come apart like this."

You feel your inner walls clenching around him, your release rushing over you, your eyes locked onto his face. Every muscle in your body seems to tense, a silent gasp escaping your lips as you're swept away.

His movements don't slow, his rhythm steady, his voice, barely above a whisper, guiding you through every wave of your climax. "That's it, baby, let go," his words a soft encouragement against your skin, as he continues to thrust, prolonging the pleasure, as you unravel around him.

"So pretty," he mumbles against the column of your throat, his teeth grazing your skin, "So good for me." And with a final, deep thrust, he stills, his own release washing over him, joining yours, his body shaking against yours, his voice echoing your name like a prayer.

You both lay there, still connected, the silence now filled with the sounds of your shared, gasping breaths. Noah’s lips, tender now, trace a path of gentle kisses over your skin, his touch like a lullaby, soothing and comforting. His words, soft whispers of praise that echo in your head, seem to linger in the room, their presence reassuring and calming.

As your breathing begins to even out, he slowly pulls away, his body moving to lie beside you. His arm finds its place around your waist, pulling you closer, his fingers tracing idle circles on your skin as if committing your shape, your feel, to memory.

"You okay, pretty girl?" he murmurs, his tone gentle, his worry evident in the soft crease of his brow. "Not too much?" There’s a vulnerability there, a hint of concern, as if he’s trying to read your emotions like a book.

He knows your body, he knows your limits, but each time you're together, he makes sure that your comfort and pleasure are paramount. This moment—the aftermath—is as integral as the act itself, a gentle reminder of the respect and care that underlines everything. That's just the kind of person he is at his core—not just a lover, not just a partner, but a friend, your best friend, whose care runs deeper than the physical. Right now, in this moment, you know he's watching, listening, making sure you’re alright.

The room is enveloped by a soft, cozy silence. The heat of your bodies, still close, mingles with the lingering scent of your lovemaking. Noah’s hand finds yours, his fingertips tracing a gentle pattern against your skin, a quiet reassurance that he’s here, that he’s watching and listening. He’s not trying to rush or push, he’s giving you the space and care you need, letting you come down at your own pace. Aftercare, he would often tell you, is as crucial as the act itself.

You nod, a small, tired smile playing on your lips, your body already drifting towards exhaustion. "M'okay," you murmur, the sound a soft whisper in the otherwise still room. "Just tired."

"Just rest, love," he murmurs, his voice both gentle and insistent, “I’m going to clean you up.” With slow, deliberate movements, he carefully untangles himself from you, his touch gentle, his face a mask of concern.

You watch with heavy-lidded eyes as he pads towards the bathroom, his figure illuminated by the soft glow of light, his attention once again fully on your wellbeing. Even now, when his own needs and desires have been satiated, his primary concern is still your comfort.

He disappears for a moment, returning with a warm, damp cloth. With infinite care, he attends to you, his hands gentle yet thorough, making sure every inch of you is clean, every trace of intimacy removed, before he helps you to settle back against the pillows.

Your voice, low and weary but filled with gratitude, murmurs, "You're too good to me."

He pauses, his eyes meeting yours, and there's a flicker of something else behind them, a depth of emotion that goes beyond simple desire or lust. This part of him is often buried, but it always seems to emerge in these quiet moments after intimacy, when the walls have come down, and all that's left are your exposed hearts, beating in sync.

He doesn't respond, at least not verbally. Instead, he kisses you, soft and slow, his lips a gentle reassurance.

He settles beside you again, pulling the covers over the both of you. His arm wraps around you, pulling you close, your back to his chest. He's your shield, your comfort in the darkness of the night, and you can hear his steady breathing, feel his heartbeat against your skin. In the quiet of the night, enveloped in his warmth and his presence, you feel peace wash over you, a sense of security that only he can provide. Sleep comes easy, your body and mind finally at rest, the day's chaos and passion now reduced to mere memories.

As your consciousness begins to fade, the last thing you hear is his voice, a soft whisper in your ear, as if he can't resist sharing one final thought.

"God, you’re so beautiful" he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. "My everything." And then sleep claims you, your mind and heart both at peace underneath the night's soft embrace, held securely in the arms of the man who cherishes you beyond measure.

[archiveofvirtue]

cherry pie — dean winchester

content: dean winchester x fem!reader, established relationship, pie addicted dean, flirting, intimate touching and kissing, slight fluff, mentions of alcohol, 2.4K words

summary: When joining Dean with a slice of cherry pie turns into something more extensive, unfolding a deeper connection than either one of you had imagined. — inspired by the song “cherry pie” by warrant

feedback and requests are welcomed <3

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The harvelle's roadhouse was buzzing with life, a mix of laughter, music, and clinking glasses filling the air. The neon sign above the bar flickered, casting a reddish glow over the crowd as they danced and mingled. Dean Winchester sat in a corner booth, nursing a beer, his eyes focused on the pool table in the center of the room. He wasn't paying much attention to the game, though. His thoughts were elsewhere- far from the game. They were on you; you could feel it.

As you made your way back to you guys' table, a mischievous glint lit your eyes. You slid into the booth beside him, your fingers grazing his arm as you placed a plate of food on the table. "Thought you might be hungry," you said, voice teasing as you pushed the plate toward him.

Dean glanced down at the slice of cherry pie, its bright red filling oozing slightly over the flaky crust. He chuckled, shaking his head. "You're gonna get me in trouble, bringing me this," he said, but the smile on his face gave away that he didn't mind at all.

You leaned closer, lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "Maybe I like getting you into trouble."

Dean's grin widened, and he turned his head to catch your lips with his in a quick, heated kiss. You tasted sweet, like the cherries from the pie, and he felt a familiar spark of desire flare up inside him. You had always had that effect on him-you were wild, unpredictable, and full of life, everything that made the chaos of his world feel a little more bearable.

"So," you said, pulling back just enough to look at him, eyes shining with amusement. "You gonna eat that, or do I have to feed it to you?"

Dean smirked, picking up the fork and slicing off a piece of the pie. "As much as l'd like that," he said, popping the bite into his mouth, "I think I can manage."

You watched him with a satisfied smile, your hand slipping under the table to rest on his thigh. You felt the warmth of his skin through the fabric, and as he leaned in for another taste of your lips, the sweetness of the pie and a slight hint of whiskey lingered between you. You knew you were getting under his skin just as much as he was under yours.

"Good?" You asked when you finally broke apart, voice breathy.

"Delicious," Dean replied, his eyes locked on yours. You knew he wasn't just talking about the pie.

The music shifted, and a new song came on, something with a heavy beat that matched the thrum of his pulse. Your eyes lit up, and you grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the dance floor. "Come on," you urged, not giving him a chance to protest.

Dean let you pull him along, his resistance melting away as you two moved into the crowd.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, body swaying to the music as you pressed yourself against him.

Dean's hands settled on your hips, guiding your movements as you fell into a rhythm together.

The room seemed to blur around you, the other people and the noise fading into the background.

All Dean could focus on was you-the way your body moved against his, the feel of your skin under his hands, the scent of your hair as it brushed against his cheek. You were intoxicating, and he was completely under your spell.

"You know," you said, lips close to his ear as you two danced, "I've always had a thing for bad boys."

Dean chuckled, his grip on you tightening. "Is that right?"

"Mm-hmm," you hummed, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Especially the ones who look at me the way you do."

Dean's heart skipped a beat, the words hitting him harder than they should have. You knew you'd struck a nerve by the way he was looking at you, making him feel something deeper than just the heat between you two.

You leaned in, capturing his lips in a slow, lingering kiss that told him exactly what you wanted. You had a way of getting under his skin, of making him feel things he wasn't sure he was ready to feel. But with you, it didn't seem so scary. It felt... right.

"Can't help it," he murmured, his voice rough against your skin. "You're just too damn irresistible."

Your smile was wicked as you pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes full of promise while the heat between you only grew hotter. "Then show me how much you mean it."

Dean didn't need to be told twice. He tightened his grip on your waist, spinning you around so that your back was pressed against his chest. His hands roamed over your body as you moved together, the heat inside you taking over.

The world outside your little bubble didn't matter anymore-there was only the music, the movement, and the undeniable chemistry that crackled between the two of you.

You leaned your head back against his shoulder, your breath coming in short, eager gasps as you let yourself get lost in the moment. When Dean's lips brushed against your neck, trailing down to your collarbone, you let out a soft moan, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer.

You stayed like that for what felt like hours, lost in each other, the world outside the dance floor forgotten. When the song finally came to an end, you were both breathless, bodies pressed close together as if you couldn't bear to be apart.

You looked up at him, eyes filled with a mix of desire and something deeper-something that made Dean's heart swell with emotion. You didn't say anything, you didn't need to. The way you looked at him, the way you held him close, told Dean everything he needed to know.

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Let's get out of here," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

You nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips. "Lead the way, Winchester."

You two left the roadhouse hand in hand, the night air cool against your flushed skin as you two made your way to the Impala. Dean opened the door for you, his hand lingering on your hand as you slid into the passenger seat.

As he climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine, Dean couldn't help but steal a glance at you. Upu were leaning back in your seat, eyes closed and a contented smile on your face. You looked so peaceful, so beautiful, that it made his heart ache.

"Where to?" he asked, his voice soft.

You opened your eyes and looked at him, your smile widening. "Surprise me," you said, your tone playful to which he just nodded.

You grinned, as he put 'baby' in gear, pulling out onto the road. You had a feeling tonight was going to be one to remember..

The Impala's engine roared as Dean pressed down on the gas, the familiar hum of the car vibrating through his body. The road stretched out before the two of you, a ribbon of asphalt disappearing into the darkness. The headlights cut through the night, illuminating the trees that lined the narrow highway. Dean didn't have a specific destination in mind, but that didn't matter. With you by his side, anywhere you ended up would be just fine.

You reached over, your fingers brushing lightly against the back of his neck where it played with his tousled hair. "You always know how to make a night interesting," you said with a playful smile, eyes sparkling in the dim light.

Dean glanced over at you, his green eyes piercing through you, your heart doing that familiar flip it always did when he looked at you like that. "You haven't seen anything yet," he replied, his voice laced with a teasing edge.

You drove in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being the rumble of the Impala's engine and the occasional rustle of wind through the open windows. Dean could feel you watching him, your gaze soft and thoughtful, and it sent a warm thrill through him. He'd never been one for settling down, but with you, everything felt different—like maybe, just maybe, he could finally stop running.

After about half an hour of driving, you came across a small, secluded lookout point just off the road. Dean turned the car down the gravel path, the tires crunching on the loose rocks as you approached a clearing that overlooked the rolling hills below. The view was stunning, with the moon casting a silvery glow over the landscape and the stars twinkling brightly above you.

Dean parked the car and turned off the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening. He looked over at you, who was already gazing out the window, your face illuminated by the soft light of the moon.

"Wow," you whispered, your breath fogging up the glass slightly as you leaned closer to the window. "It's beautiful."

Dean nodded, unable to take his eyes off you. "Yeah, it is."

You turned to him, catching the meaning behind his words, and your cheeks flushed slightly. "You've got a way with words, Winchester," you teased, though your voice was warm with affection.

Dean shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Just calling it like I see it."

You laughed softly, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. You opened the car door and stepped out, stretching your arms above your head as you breathed in the cool night air. Dean followed suit, walking around the car to stand beside you.

For a moment, you two just stood there, taking in the view and the peacefulness that surrounded you. The world felt a million miles away, and you were grateful for the rare moment of tranquility.

You moved closer to Dean, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head against his chest. Dean automatically slid his arms around you, holding you close as you stood together under the blanket of stars.

"You know," you said after a few minutes, voice barely above a whisper, "I never thought I'd find something like this... someone like you."

You felt his heart skip a beat at your words, and he tightened his hold on you, resting his chin on top of your head. "I know the feeling," he murmured.

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his as if you were looking for something—confirmation, maybe, or reassurance. Dean wasn't sure what you saw in his eyes, but whatever it was, it made you smile softly, a smile that made his heart ache in the best way possible.

"Let's stay here for a while," you suggested, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back. "Just you and me, no distractions."

Dean nodded, his thumb brushing lightly across your cheek. "Yeah," he agreed. "I'd like that."

You two leaned against the hood of the Impala, you nestled comfortably in his arms, and watched the stars twinkle above. The night was quiet, the only sounds being the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze and the steady thrum of your hearts beating in sync.

After a while, you tilted your head up to look at him again, your eyes gleaming with that familiar mischievous glint. "So, about that pie," you began, her tone playful.

Dean raised an eyebrow, smirking down at you. "What about it?"

You bit your lip, pretending to think. "I don't know... I just figured a guy like you might have something better up his sleeve."

Dean chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "You're never satisfied, are you?"

"Not when it comes to you," you replied, your voice dropping to a husky whisper that sent a jolt of desire through him.

Dean's smirk softened into something more tender as he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your soft skin. "Good," he said, leaning in closer until your lips were just a breath apart. "Because I'm not planning on going anywhere."

Your breath hitched slightly, and you closed the distance between you two, your lips capturing his in a kiss that was slow and deep, filled with all the unspoken promises you'd been dancing around for so long. Dean kissed you back with equal fervor, pouring everything he had into it—every emotion, every unsaid word, every hope for a future he hadn't dared to dream about until now.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting against each other as you tried to steady your racing hearts.

"I think I'm falling for you, Y/N," Dean admitted, his voice rough with the weight of the confession. "Hell, maybe I already have."

You looked up at him, eyes shining with a mix of surprise and something else—a feeling that only filled your body when you were with him. You smiled, a soft, genuine smile that reached your eyes. "Good," you whispered, repeating his earlier words. "Because I'm already there."

Dean's breath caught in his throat at your words, and before he could say anything else, you pulled him back in for another kiss—this one slow and tender, a kiss that spoke of the future the two of you could have, if you were brave enough to take it.

As you stood there, wrapped up in each other under the endless sky, Dean realized that for the first time in a long time, he wasn't thinking about the next hunt or the next battle. All he could think about was the woman in his arms and the life you could build together—one filled with moments like this, moments where the world outside didn't matter, and all that existed was the love between you two.

It wasn't something he'd ever expected to find, but now that he had it, he wasn't planning on letting it go. Not for anything.

And as you held each other close, the stars above you twinkling like the cherries in the pie you'd shared, you both knew that this was just the beginning of something beautiful. Something worth fighting for.

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tags: @nuemanfilms @pinkgic @angelicjackles @6thlisbongirl @s4wdvator @nxptvn @nourties @alluvthegurlz

[i-starcreamed]

Can I request how Megs would feel if he fought his beloved, reader needs to beat some sense to him and help him from being blinded with hatred. (Tf one plz) Also I want a good ending cuz I'm still sad about the movie. And if it isn't obvious cybertronian reader.

MEGATRON X READER

Obviously Tf One spoilers! God this was so fun to write, I just hope I got their personalities right. I haven't written anything this long in a while !! Also I never knew I'd be so much of a Megatron enjoyer until this movie...yeah, it took me this long.

[ cybertronian! reader Angst and eventually fluff, could be pretty rushed tbh but I just want him to healll. Very NOT canon to the movie

You knew it wasn’t your D-16 the moment his optics changed. Or maybe it was the way he distanced himself from you and your friends in a matter of hours--maybe minutes. It was a subconscious, subtle shift, but one you wished you could have talked him out of.

You suppose you saw the changed D-16 once you made it to the hideout of the High Guard fliers. Your once-kind, responsible lover was gripping Starscream by the neck, his hold tightening with every word from the flier beneath him.

You glanced at Orion, Elita, and Bee, all frozen in horror. You panicked and you stepped forward, placing your servo on his shoulder. Before you could continue, he whirled around, optics burning with a cold, harsh light—practically glaring at you.

“Y/N…“

“D, what the hell are you doing?!” You demanded, your voice steady despite his glare. “This isn’t like you, this isn’t the way, come on.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, his optics locked onto Starscream again. He was seething, the flier grinning through the pain wasn't helping your case either.

“Come on, do it! Do it, don’t be a c-coward!” Starscream sputtered through glitching vocal processors, even as D-16’s servo squeezed harder, threatening to crush the life from him.

D-16 narrowed his optics, “I’m not a coward!” He roared as Starscream’s cackling turned into garbled screeches

You attempted to push him away, roughly shoving him by the shoulder. “D, stop it!” He shoved you back. The sudden force sent you stumbling, and when you steadied yourself, you found yourself staring down the barrel of his arm cannon. His orange optics were locked on you, but for a fleeting moment, they softened. It was like he didn't recognize you, but then he hesitated.

“Stay out of my way, from now on.” He said lowly, as if his words pained him. “Please.”

His hesitation vanished as the cannon swung back toward Starscream. You stood there, stunned, until Orion and Elita rushed over to pull you up. Then you just stood and did nothing.

You watched in horror as D-16 continued to declare himself as someone they should follow to victory. Oh, you knew how much he wanted Sentinel dead now. Hell, you did too. But you weren’t sure if this was the right way. You weren’t a bad bot. Neither was D-16, he never was. You had to do something...before things got bad.

You recalled the moment just before he…snapped.

___

“Y/N, don’t you see? He’s been lying this whole time.” “Yes, D. I see, I know. But—“ “I want him dead. I just-I need..I need to see him suffer. Look what he did. To you. To me. To us. We could have been..so much more.” He placed his servo over your spark, right above where your transformation cog was. He used to dream of you two racing together, having fun. Hell, flying even. Back then he didn’t know what he would transform into. “We can still be more, D. We have a bigger purpose now, we were given the ability to transform by a prime himself. We just need to..show everyone the truth. And we will. Then we can—“ “It’s not enough.” He blurted out, pulling you closer as if it was the last time he’d hold you. “You deserve so much better. I promise you, Y/N. I promise you he will pay.”

___

Things only got worse from there. You reached your breaking point when you saw D-16—no, Megatron—vanish Orion himself. You couldn’t believe it. They were like brothers. And now, your beloved had become something else entirely. And yet, you still felt helpless.

You rushed over, avoiding and pushing the other bots as you made your way to where D-16 stood. They all cheered him on as he was trying to lift Sentinel into the air. He was going to kill him. He really was.

“D, stop it! Look what you’ve done!” You shouted, stomping your way forward, frustration boiling inside. You slammed your shaking fist into his shoulder. Primus, you were pissed at him right now.

“Please, please! Tell me what the hell you’re doing. This wasn’t a part of the plan.” You pleaded with him, hoping you’d somehow get him to react. Instead, he inched closer, the same stance you’d expect of someone challenging you. “No, you’re wrong. This was the plan. It was what had to be done. How can I get you to see that.” He visibly calmed for a moment, reaching out a servo to brush against the side of your faceplate. Despite everything, it’s still him. And he loved you.

You hesitated, then stepped back. Oh, how it pained you. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand your goal.” You said, barely above a whisper. Time seemed to freeze, and he slowly lowered his arm. In an instant, you watched his gaze darken.

“Then you’re just in my way.”

__

Your hopes were revived as Orion, now as Optimus Prime, came back, the matrix of leadership implanted into his chest. Optimus had saved the life of Sentinel (perhaps a little undeserved), knowing there was another way to deal with this. But now he has to save..practically all of Iacon. Maybe just maybe, between the two of you, you can stop Megatron.

The fight between the two friends wasn’t solving anything, you only feared they’d end up killing each other. You got rid of your fear, inserting yourself in the fight just as they managed to gain some distance from eachother. He grunted as you shoved him harder this time, his footing a bit unsteady from his existing injuries.

“What are yo—“

“I told you, stop. This,” you punctuated every word with a shove. “Is. Madness!” You panted, glaring up at your lover. “Come back to me, D. This isn’t the real you. I know it isn’t.” You pleaded, he responded with an irritated grunt.

“I, am Megatron. Not D-16, I am not that bot anymore. Y/N, stand down-“

“No! You stand down! You’re acting foolishly right now! I won't just stand here and watch you destroy yourself and--” You yelled, going straight for him to push him again, but he stopped you with a raise of his cannon. You froze in your tracks.

"Back down, Y/N." He said with a growl. You narrowed your optics, leaning your frame right up against the barrel, hearing a light clink.. The glow illuminated your armor. For a second, you saw his optics widen. He paused, licking his teeth. "I don't want to fight you. But I-"

"But you will if you have to, right? That's what you were going to say? Do it then," Your voice cracked, "I have nothing left to lose."

He huffed, so be it. He lunged towards you, and you raised your arms, blocking the strike. You opened up to move his blaster out of the way, leaving your side open to his incoming fist. It collided with your side, sparks flying from the contact. You grunted, stumbling back. When he came at you again, you caught his arm, pulling him close until you were face to face.

"We're both being foolish right now, are you happy yet? You panted, he grits his teeth.

"Quit saying that!" He growled, shoving you away. He shot his cannon, the blast flying past your side. You slid to avoid it, earning another blast from him. He fired his cannon, but the shot missed. He was aiming wide on purpose. You blinked, you knew his aim wasn't that bad...primus, he really was missing on purpose. If you weren't fighting right now, you'd swoon.

"Are you missing on purpose?" You asked incredulously.

"No! I.. yes..no! Listen to me, Y/N. We can end this now, if you let me do this one thing."

"You've already done enough. D..."

"Don't call me that."

He lunged again, but this time, you sidestepped, charging into him and sending him crashing to the ground, the side of his face hit the ground. You managed to pin him momentarily, struggling to keep him from standing.

"This isn't what you want. Trust me.." You paused. "Megs. Please."

He tensed beneath you, then slightly loosened as you called him 'Megs.'

"This is revenge, it won't help you feel any better. Not long-term. You'll only continue hating and hating, I can't bear to lose you like this. It's...it's tearing us apart." You shuddered, loosening your grip.

Eventually, you felt his breathing slow to a decent pace, slowly, you climbed off him, kneeling beside him. He sighed. "I..I don't know how to stop." He quietly said. You leaned forward, placing a servo against his jaw. "I can help you. I will help you. Megs, you have me with you. You have..Optimus with you. We're all with you."

You both knelt silently for a moment, gathering each other's thoughts. Finally, he had the courage to look up at you. You might never see those big yellow optics of his again, but at least now they weren't so cold. They held some type of sincerity. "I'm..so sorry." He breathed out.

You almost sighed in relief. "You're still angry, and that's okay, alright? Now it's my turn to promise you, we'll deal with this differently. It won't feel fair at first, but it's the right thing to do. Stand up." You gently said, extending your servo out to him. He slowly took your servo, his grip as gentle, almost afraid of breaking you. Primus, how he regrets hurting you. You can see it written all over his face. He was blinded by rage, he was indeed acting foolish. His optics briefly flicked to Sentinel, still on the ground and honestly, grateful to still be in one single piece. He turned away before the anger could return.

"I didn't want to hurt you," He whispered.

You softly scoffed, gently nudging him. This time, without any defensive intent. "You controlled yourself better than I did. I wanted to beat your aft, D-- Megs." You joked, earning a small, bittersweet smile.

You took your servos in his, softly smiling at him. You turned to Optimus, who was just as relieved as you were. "Optimus, do you think Megs and I can help rebuild Iacon? The way it's supposed to be?"

Optimus smiled gently, looking proud. "Of course you can. We all can." He looked at Megatron, his gaze firm but kind. "I am glad to have you back, friend."

Megatron nodded, still tense but..accepting. One day, they'll be as brothers again. You just know it. "As am I." He said, turning to you. His gaze softened. "Y/N...I love you."

"I love you as well, Megs."

[theuntoldstorythatneedsawriter]

Lost in Translation 🇳🇴📰

Ingrid Engen x reader

warning : fluffy 💭💗

summary :

In your cozy Barcelona apartment, you and Ingrid sit down for a Norwegian lesson. In hopes to help you prepare for your upcoming trip to Norway and making you feel more confident about meeting her family.

Ingrid sat at the small round kitchen table, sunlight pouring in through the large windows of your cozy apartment in Barcelona. Her long hair was tied into a loose bun, her focus completely on the cup of coffee in her hand. Across from her, you sat fingers tapping lightly on the notebook in front of you.

"Okay," you started, flipping to a new page, "I’m ready. Teach me some more Norwegian."

Ingrid chuckled softly, setting down her coffee. "You’re so determined, I love it."

You had been trying to learn Norwegian for weeks now, ever since Ingrid had playfully teased you for only knowing how to say "jeg elsker deg" (i love you) which, to be fair, was a solid start. But you wanted more. After all, Ingrid had worked so hard to learn English when she moved abroad for football, and you felt like it was time to return the effort.

"Let’s start with something simple today," Ingrid suggested. "How about we go over some common phrases?"

You nodded eagerly, holding your pen above the notebook, ready to jot down every word. Ingrid smiled, her blue eyes sparkling with affection as she watched you.

"Alright, how do you say 'good morning' again?" she asked, knowing you'd already learned this one.

"God morgen," you said confidently.

"Very good! Now, if I wanted to say 'have a nice day,' I’d say...?"

"Um…" You hesitated, wrinkling your nose as you tried to remember. Ingrid leaned in, her voice soft as she gave you a hint.

"Ha… en…"

"Ha en fin dag!" you exclaimed, finally remembering.

"Perfect!" Ingrid grinned. "You’re getting the hang of it. Soon you'll be fluent."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m trying."

Ingrid leaned across the table, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "You’re doing amazing. But, maybe we should add some more useful phrases? What would you say if you were visiting Norway with me?"

"Like, asking for directions?" you asked, scribbling the new idea into your notebook.

"Exactly," she replied. "Let’s say you’re lost and need to ask someone where the train station is. You would say, "Unnskyld, hvor er togstasjonen?""

"Wait… "Unnskyld"? That means 'excuse me,' right?"

"Exactly." Ingrid beamed. "Then "hvor er" means 'where is,' and "togstasjonen" is the train station."

You repeated the phrase a couple of times, trying to wrap your tongue around the unfamiliar sounds. Ingrid watched, her expression softening as she saw the way you furrowed your brows in concentration.

"It sounds so much better when you say it," you mumbled, embarrassed at your attempt.

Ingrid laughed lightly, reaching across the table to take your hand. "You’re being too hard on yourself. I love hearing you speak Norwegian. It’s cute."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart swelled at her words. "Alright, what else should I learn?"

Ingrid tilted her head thoughtfully before a mischievous smile crept across her lips. "How about some romantic phrases? For example, "Du er vakker"."

You blinked, looking at her suspiciously. "Okay, I’m going to assume that’s something nice, but I’m not sure."

"It means, 'You are beautiful,'" Ingrid said softly, her gaze locking with yours.

Your cheeks flushed, and you glanced away for a moment, suddenly flustered. "You say that all the time, but now it’s even sweeter knowing what it actually means."

Ingrid chuckled, standing up from her seat and walking over to you. She wrapped her arms around your shoulders from behind, her chin resting on the top of your head as she whispered, "Jeg elsker deg."

You smiled, feeling the warmth of her body against yours. "I know that one," you said, your voice teasing. "I love you too."

She kissed the top of your head gently before sitting back down. "You’re getting there, love. Soon, you’ll be able to speak with my family when we go to Norway for Christmas."

"Yeah, about that," you said, your tone turning a bit nervous. "What if I completely embarrass myself?"

Ingrid shook her head, her expression turning serious, but still filled with love. "You won’t. Trust me, they’re going to adore you no matter how much Norwegian you know. They’ll probably be impressed you’re learning at all."

You sighed, feeling a bit reassured. "I just want to be able to talk to them without you having to translate everything."

Ingrid smiled gently, reaching across the table to hold your hand again. "You’re already doing more than enough. And besides, we’ll be together. That’s what matters, right?"

You nodded, your worries slowly melting away as you gazed into her eyes. "Right."

A comfortable silence fell over the room, only the sound of birds chirping from outside filling the air. Then, after a moment, you cleared your throat and asked, "Okay, serious question though: how do I ask for more cake in Norwegian?"

Ingrid burst out laughing, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Oh, I should’ve known you’d want to learn that. It’s "Kan jeg få mer kake?""

You repeated the phrase a few times, testing it out, before grinning. "Perfect. Now I’m ready for Norway."

Ingrid laughed again, her face lighting up with joy. "I think you’re going to do just fine."

You knew you wouldn’t be fluent by the time you went to Norway with Ingrid, but with her by your side, you felt like you could take on anything. And if all else failed, at least you knew how to ask for more cake.

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 QUEEN OF DISASTER kang haerin x reader

↳ warnings yn is a nmixx member , haerin is insanely infatuated with yn, swearing, fluff, crazy dorm activities

haerin didn’t have many idol friends outside of her own group. she kept to herself most of the time, and honestly, she was fine with that. there was comfort in her peace she didn’t need it to be disrupted.

that was, until kyujin bounced into her life. the girl was a burst of energy, determined to befriend every 2006 liner in the industry, including haerin.

and, as much as haerin hated to admit it, kyujin was hard to resist. her infectious laughter, relentless enthusiasm, and her skill of making haerin feel comfortable chipped away at her guarded walls.

but that didn’t stop haerin from being a bit hesitant when the girl invited her to her dorms.

“I don’t know…” haerin murmured, her gaze dropping to the floor as kyujin groaned in protest. the idea of visiting another group’s dorm felt… odd. it wouldn’t just be kyujin it would be her and six other members, people haerin barely knew.

“come on!” kyujin whined, leaning dramatically against haerin’s arm. “my members are so welcoming. they’re really peaceful,” she added, the blatant lie making haerin raise an eyebrow.

“peaceful?” haerin shot her a knowing look, one that said, you can’t be serious.

“okay okay,” kyujin looked down reluctantly, “okay, fine. maybe not all of them,” she confessed, “but at least yoona unnie is. she’s super chill! you’ll feel comfortable with her, i promise.”

haerin nodded slightly, her mind flicking to sullyoon, who seemed just as quiet and reserved as she was probably the one member she might actually connect with. but something felt off. one name was conspicuously missing from kyujin’s reassurances..

yn.

everyone knew yn.

she was the industry’s darling, a sweetheart with doe eyes and a smile that could light up a room. her voice was soft, soothing even, the kind of voice that made fans melt and left the whole country captivated. she was gentle, exactly the type of person who would put haerin at ease.

she was peaceful with the softest voice to exist, just watching videos of her talking could put people at peace.

so why didn’t kyujin mention her?

haerin let out sigh, looking away from her friends puppy dog eyes, “fine…”

kyujin’s shriek of excitement nearly made her regret it. haerin scrunched her nose playfully, rolling her eyes as kyujin threw her arms around her in a tight hug, already chattering excitedly about the visit. but haerin’s thoughts were elsewhere.

she stayed quiet while kyujin rambled about how excited she was, her mind wandering to the girls beloved member.

she doesn’t know why, kyujin not bringing yn up occupied her mind so much.

I guess you can say the beloved member of nmixx intrigued her.

“get the hell off of me!”

haerin stood wide eyed next to kyujin, frozen in place in front of the now-closed door to her friend’s dorm

she watched in disbelief as yn shoved bae off the couch, sending the girl tumbling onto the floor.

“now now, yn that’s not even nice.” the older girl groaned from the ground, flashing the pretty girl a teasing look.

“fuck off.”

the funny thing was, this wasn’t even the most chaotic thing happening in kyujin’s “lovely” home.

haewon was belting out a very loud tune in the kitchen while yoona tried her best to help clean up the mess. lily and jiwoo were in the living room, locked in a fierce round of just dance, screaming at each other to “dance harder!”

and yet, despite the madness swirling around her, haerin’s eyes couldn’t leave the industry’s so called sweetheart, who seemed to have quite the temper on her.

“you know you love me,” bae teased, trying to get up from the ground, only to be pushed right back down by yn.

“no, i hate you,” yn snapped, glaring down at her, though her wide, doe like eyes made her look more like a pouting kitten than anything intimidating.

kyujin glanced nervously at haerin, who stared at the chaos before her. “it’s not always like this,” she lied, trying to save face.

haerin shot her a look that screamed, yeah, right.

“i know…” kyujin sighed. “i told them to be on their best behavior. sorry.”

but haerin barely acknowledged her friend’s apology, too transfixed by yn’s little tantrum. the girl had settled back on the couch now, a perfect smile on her face, while bae remained sprawled on the floor, knowing that any attempt to stand would likely result in another push

“so it’s all for show?” haerin whispered, her eyes still glued to yn..

“huh?” kyujin furrowed her brow.

haerin tilted her head toward yn, and kyujin burst into laughter. “no! yn unnie is a complete sweetheart. what you see is what you get, she’s just… well, a bit short-tempered.”

as if yn could sense they were talking about her, she glanced up, her wide eyes locking onto haerin and kyujin. suddenly, her expression softened, and she shot up from the couch.

“oh my, kyujin, why didn’t you say you were back!” yn exclaimed, crossing the room in quick strides. 

“that’s no way to welcome guests!” she turned her attention to haerin, who immediately felt her cheeks grow warm as yn got closer. “how are you? was the drive okay?” yn’s voice was gentle, her words pouring over haerin like a warm breeze. “it’s a bit loud in here, i know, but it gets better, i promise.”

“uh…” haerin tried to respond, but yn cut her off with a quick pat on the head.

“i’ll go tell haewon unnie you’re here. make yourself comfortable, haerin,” yn said, shooting her a playful wink before disappearing into the kitchen.

haerin’s face was burning now, completely caught off guard by yn’s sudden warmth.while kyujin looked at her, “told you, she’s a complete sweetheart, an angry one but sweet nevertheless.”

“uh huh…” haerin barely managed to nod, still completely dazed by yn’s charm.

she had never felt this way before, but one thing was clear she was definitely coming to the nmixx dorms a lot more often.

haerin wasn’t sure how it happened, but visiting the nmixx dorm had quickly become part of her routine.

at first, it was all about hanging out with kyujin and adjusting to the group’s chaos. but somewhere along the way, her visits shifted focus.

instead of looking forward to catching up with kyujin, she found herself eagerly waiting for the moments when yn would be there quietly watching her from across the room, her eyes following every movement, every smile.

soon enough, her casual drop ins had turned into regular visits. she no longer needed kyujin’s invite. the group had welcomed her, and though kyujin was oblivious, haerin was only showing up for one person.

yn.

there was something about yn her soft demeanor on the surface, contrasted with her fiery personality just beneath. one second she was all sunshine and sweet smiles, and the next, she’d be fiercely ranting about whatever bothered her that day.

haerin found it captivating, the duality of her, the rawness that not many got to see. and somehow, haerin had gotten used to those passionate rants, sitting on the edge of yn’s bed as the girl vented her frustrations about anything and everything.

today was no different.

“i mean, can you believe it?” yn practically shouted, pacing back and forth in her room. her hands were animated, cutting through the air as she spoke. “i’m out here trying my best, and they have the audacity to say that about me?”

haerin sat on yn’s bed, quietly watching her. there was a small smile playing at the corner of her lips, she found yn’s fiery passion endearing.

yn's temper was always sparked by the smallest of things, someone’s comment online, a misunderstanding, or the fact that she lost in a game to lily the night before. today, it seemed like it was something she had read online, and yn was spiraling into one of her long, impassioned rants.

“they don’t know a damn thing! who do they think they are? it’s just—ugh! so annoying.” yn threw her hands up in frustration, pacing closer to haerin, her voice laced with indignation.

“and the worst part?” yn paused, finally looking at haerin, her face flushed with emotion. “i shouldn’t even care! but i do, haerin, i do.”

yn let out a frustrated sigh, dropping onto the bed next to her. their shoulders brushed, and yn turned to face her, her eyes burning with a mix of anger and vulnerability. haerin couldn’t help but be drawn in by that intensity, her heart picking up speed as yn ranted on.

before she could stop herself, haerin reached out, her hand gently resting on yn’s arm. “it’s okay,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “you care because you’re passionate about what you do.”

yn looked at her, the fire in her eyes slowly dimming, replaced with something softer something that made haerin’s breath catch. for a moment, the room fell silent, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them.

then, before she could second-guess it, haerin closed the gap between them, pressing her lips softly against yn’s. it was tentative at first, a quiet exploration, but when yn didn’t pull away—when she kissed back just as eagerly, the kiss deepened. haerin’s hand slid up to cup yn’s cheek, her heart racing as yn responded with equal fervor, her fingers threading through haerin’s hair.

the moment was electric, full of everything haerin had been holding back for weeks. the fiery passion yn poured into her rants was now flowing through their kiss, both of them caught up in the intensity of the moment.

but just as quickly as it had started, the door to yn’s room swung open with a loud creak, and a voice rang out.

“unnie, have you seen—” kyujin’s words died in her throat as her eyes fell on the scene in front of her. her mouth dropped open in shock.

haerin and yn instantly pulled apart, wide-eyed and breathless, as kyujin stood frozen in the doorway, her face a mixture of confusion and surprise. the room was dead silent, save for the sound of kyujin’s sharp inhale.

“oh my god!” kyujin finally screamed, her voice echoing through the dorm. her hands flew up to cover her mouth, her eyes still as wide as saucers. “what is happening?!”

without waiting for a response, kyujin let out another yelp and slammed the door shut with a loud bang, leaving haerin and yn alone once again, their hearts pounding in their chests.

for a few moments, neither of them moved, the tension hanging thick in the air. then yn burst into laughter, her giggles light and infectious, her face still flushed from their kiss.

“well, that’s one way to get caught,” yn said between fits of laughter, her eyes sparkling as she turned to face haerin again. “she’s never gonna let you live this down.”

haerin, still slightly dazed, let out a small, embarrassed laugh, her cheeks burning. “yeah… i wasn’t expecting that.”

yn smiled at her, the warmth returning to her expression. “i wasn’t expecting this,” she said softly, her voice taking on a gentler tone. she leaned in, brushing a stray piece of hair away from haerin’s face. “but i’m glad it happened.”

haerin felt her heart flutter at yn’s words, her breath catching in her throat. she hadn’t realized just how badly she had wanted this how much she had wanted yn.

“so,” yn whispered, her lips ghosting over haerin’s once more, “are you gonna come over just to see me from now on?”

haerin grinned, her lips curving up into a smile as she leaned in closer. “ and kyujin, but mainly you.”

before the girls lips could touch once again kyujin’s muffled voice was heard from behind the door, “I’m coming in again! and I better not see any kissing!”

[fanficlolsblog]

JUST A LITTLE BITE

pairing: vampire fem!reader x wednesday addams

summary: Y/N, a vampire, returns to wednesday addams' dorm after a day out, sensing her girlfriend's hidden frustration at being apart. as Y/N teases wednesday about her vampire nature, they share playful intimacy through biting. their connection deepens, revealing Wednesday’s vulnerability and desire, ultimately strengthening their bond in the shadows.

warnings: mentions of light bitting, vamprism, blood play.

It had been a long day out with my friends, filled with laughter and sunlight, both of which always seemed a little too bright for my liking. As a vampire, I thrived in the dark, where the shadows embraced me like an old friend. But today had been different. I wanted to enjoy life outside my usual midnight escapades, if only for a while. Still, all I could think about was getting back to her.

As I stepped into the dimly lit hallway of Nevermore Academy, a chill ran down my spine, a mixture of excitement and anticipation. I moved silently, my footsteps barely making a sound against the polished floor. Wednesday Addams’ dorm room was just a few doors down, and I could feel an inexplicable pull toward her, one that always seemed to intensify the longer I was away.

I pushed open the door, the hinges creaking softly. The room was just as I remembered it: dark, cluttered with peculiar artifacts and a hint of the macabre. Wednesday was sitting on her bed, a book sprawled open in front of her, but her eyes were glued to the window, lost in thought.

“Hey,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

She turned slowly, her expression unreadable. “You took your time,” she replied, her tone flat but with an undercurrent of something deeper.

I could sense it immediately. There was a heaviness in the air, a tension that I recognized well. Wednesday often masked her emotions behind a veneer of indifference, but I could see through it. “Did you miss me?” I asked, trying to keep the teasing light.

“Hardly,” she retorted, but her eyes flickered with something that felt like longing.

I moved closer, noting the way she shifted slightly, an unconscious invitation. “You know it’s not the same without you,” I said softly, my gaze locking onto hers. “I hate being away from you.”

For a moment, I thought I saw a flash of vulnerability in her dark eyes, but she quickly masked it with her usual stoicism. “Well, you’re back now. That’s all that matters.”

I perched on the edge of her bed, the tension between us palpable. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Wednesday. I can sense how you feel.”

Her lips twitched, but she suppressed a smile. “You can’t always read me like an open book, Y/N.”

“Maybe not, but I know you well enough to tell when you’re upset.” I leaned in closer, catching the faint scent of her shampoo mixed with something uniquely her. “What’s really bothering you?”

She paused, her gaze drifting to the book in front of her, avoiding my eyes. “I just... don’t like being ignored,” she said, the faintest hint of frustration creeping into her voice.

I reached out, brushing my fingers against hers. “You weren’t ignored, I just needed some time out. But I’m here now.” I hesitated for a moment before adding, “And I think you secretly love it when I bite you.”

A smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she quickly suppressed it, her facade slipping momentarily. “I don’t ‘love’ anything,” she said, but I could hear the teasing lilt in her tone.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” I leaned closer, my fangs grazing her neck. She shivered slightly, and I could see the rush of excitement in her dark eyes.

“Y/N,” she murmured, her voice a mix of annoyance and thrill. “You’re insufferable.”

“Maybe, but you enjoy it.” I brushed my lips against her skin, just above where my fangs would pierce. I could feel her heartbeat quicken, a rhythm that matched my own in a way that was both intoxicating and terrifying.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, but the breathiness in her voice betrayed her.

“Then let me show you.” I pressed my fangs against her neck, teasingly light, just enough to make her breath hitch. I could feel the tension in her body, the way she leaned into me, craving that small bit of pain mingled with pleasure.

“Just a little bite,” I whispered, allowing myself the indulgence of sinking my fangs into her skin for the briefest moment. The taste of her blood was warm and inviting, and I pulled back, a satisfied smile on my lips. “See? Not so bad.”

Wednesday’s expression shifted, her usual stoic demeanor faltering as she tried to regain control. “You’re a menace,” she said, though her eyes sparkled with something darker, something that told me she wanted more.

I couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling a surge of warmth at the sight of her struggle to maintain her composure. “Maybe, but you like me just the way I am.”

“Perhaps,” she said, feigning nonchalance, but her gaze betrayed her interest. “You’re certainly not boring.”

“Glad to hear it.” I brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering on her cool skin. “And you’re definitely not boring either.”

She leaned into my touch, and for a moment, the distance between us vanished. I could feel the weight of her longing, the unspoken words hanging in the air. “What are we doing, Y/N?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I smiled, my heart racing. “Whatever we want. As long as you’re with me.”

For the first time, Wednesday’s defenses seemed to crack just a bit. She smiled, a small, genuine smile that made my heart flutter. “Then let’s not waste any more time.”

[tradgedyinwaves]

tw: emotional neglect, military inaccuracies, one sided relationship, sex, cursing, not necessarily unwanted sex, but not encouraged

You told him.

Over and over.

If he didn’t stop treating you like a maid and fuck buddy, you were done.

“Simon, you didn’t do the dishes like I asked and now I have to do them before I can get started on dinner,” you chastise, moving dishes around so you can get them done. His team was coming over for dinner that night, but he’d made no move to help you.

“Ah, I forgot. ‘M sorry,” he called from the couch, eyes still glued to the game flashing across the screen. You huffed and got to work, mentally creating a list of everything that would need done before the guys arrived in…four hours. Great, you had to shower too. 

Only once you’d finished the dinner and were getting into the shower, did Simon finally rise from the couch. He pushed his way in, joining you in the shower. His massive hands found your hips before sliding between your legs, searching for the little bundle of nerves.

Oh, now he wanted to pay attention to you? “Come on, luvie. Let me feel your tight cunt on my cock. I know how much you love my cock,” Simon grunted against your ear, his fingers dancing over the most intimate parts of you. And you let him.

Let him take what he wants because at least, he’s paying attention to you, right? You sigh as he slides into you, feeling the familiar burn and stretch. It’s quick and dirty. He pulls out to shoot his seed between your legs and down the drain. You don’t finish and climb out of the shower to let him finish in peace. 

You stand in front of your closet, opting for a black dress that flaunts your curves but still allows you comfort. Stepping out of the bathroom, fully nude as he uses a towel to dry his hair, he grunts when he glances at you but makes no effort to compliment or even really look at you. 

“I thought I asked you to do the laundry. You know I have that court marshal and Price will have my head if I don’t look presentable,” Simon rants from the bedroom, looking for the ONE button up he owns that he wore earlier in the week to a meeting with some big wigs that the higher ups wanted them to meet. 

The issue was that you were currently bedridden and unable to leave the bed for more than a few minutes to use the restroom or grab food. You’d been laid up with a case of pneumonia that led to bronchitis, making breathing difficult, let alone doing your boyfriend’s laundry. 

You didn’t answer him, rolling away from the closet and curling into yourself. He’d not even been taking care of you, citing that he couldn’t afford to get sick. What if he needed to be deployed, but he was stuck in bed because he was taking care of you? His reasoning was fair, but you were his girlfriend. Shouldn’t he be more worried about getting you well?

It was Simon’s last night home before being sent on a mission. You weren’t privy to where he was going or how long he’d be gone, but that was normal. Something you’d adjusted to when you started dating the man. 

Normally, he’d at least stay home with you the night before. Maybe a movie or something before he’d fuck you into the mattress for three minutes, leaving you unsatisfied. But he tried right? 

This time though, he was throwing his leather jacket on and grabbing the keys to his bike. “You’re seriously going out with the guys you’re shipping out with instead of staying home with me?” you cried, tears slipping down your cheeks as you finally broke from the quiet ways he neglected you. 

“Sorry. They wanted to have a good night of drinking before we’re forced to be sober for weeks on end,” he reasoned, barely even giving you a glance before coming over to kiss the top of your head then disappear out the door. 

The door clicked shut and you heard the key turn in the lock. 

When Simon returned two months later to an empty flat and all of your things missing, he was stunned. Finding the note and your copy of the flat key laying on the coffee table had him collapsing on the couch as he stared at the two sentence note you'd left. He’d taken you for granted for too long, neglected you when you deserved the world. 7 words to shatter his world.

“Don’t come looking for me. I’m done.” 

[amirasainz]

Can you please do reader is Charles and Alexandra ex but they are obsessed with her and can’t believe she dumped them, they trying to get her back but she’s moved on. Maybe only if your comfortable do Charles and Alex dark?

Alright, so this is my first time writing something dark. I hope I did a good job. Pease keep in ind that this is just a story for entertainement and nothing about this is real.

Enjoy reading and send me some requests!!!

-XoXo

In the grip of obsession

The room was spinning, a dull throb pulsing at the back of Y/N’s head. Her eyelids were heavy, her limbs weak and uncooperative. Darkness surrounded her, but as her senses slowly returned, she realized she wasn’t in the club anymore. She wasn’t anywhere familiar.

The cold, sterile scent of the room mingled with the faint smell of expensive cologne. Panic crept in as she tried to move, her body betraying her as her muscles refused to respond. Her wrists felt raw, tightly bound behind her back. She could feel soft silk pressed against her skin, but the comfort of the fabric was overshadowed by the hard chair beneath her.

Slowly, Y/N forced her eyes open, squinting against the dim light filtering in from a nearby window. Shadows danced across the room, but through the haze of confusion, one thing became terrifyingly clear—she was not alone.

"Finally awake, mon amour?" a voice broke the silence, soft but with an undercurrent of dangerous obsession.

Charles.

Her heart dropped into her stomach as her eyes darted around the room, finally landing on him. He stood by the window, his silhouette illuminated by the streetlights outside, his piercing eyes locked onto her. His usual boyish charm was gone, replaced by something darker, more unhinged.

"You shouldn’t have gone out," came another voice from the corner of the room, this one softer but no less menacing. Alexandra stepped into the light, her arms crossed as she studied Y/N like a predator watching its prey. "You knew better than that."

Y/N's mouth was dry, her throat burning as she tried to speak, but all that came out was a ragged whisper, "W-what... What is this?"

Charles walked toward her, crouching in front of her chair. His face, usually so handsome and full of life, was twisted with something she could only describe as obsession. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. She flinched, but he didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he didn’t care.

"This," he whispered, "is where you belong."

Her heart pounded in her chest as the realization set in. This wasn’t a nightmare she could wake up from. This was real.

"Why are you doing this?" Y/N's voice was shaky, fear creeping into every word. She tugged at the ropes binding her hands, but they didn’t give.

"You broke up with us," Alexandra said coldly, stepping closer, her eyes narrowing. "You thought you could just walk away? After everything we’ve been through? After all the hate you put up with for us?"

"That wasn’t your choice to make," Charles added, his voice low and dangerous. "You belong to us, Y/N. You always did."

She shook her head, her vision still blurry, but the horror of the situation cut through the fog in her mind. "You’re insane... both of you."

Charles chuckled, his eyes darkening. "Maybe. But we don’t care anymore. We tried to let you go, we really did. But you’re everywhere, Y/N. Every time I close my eyes, I see you. Every race, every podium, every fucking interview, it’s you. I can’t breathe without thinking about you."

"Neither can I," Alexandra said, her voice calmer but no less disturbing. "You broke us, Y/N. And now we’re just fixing what you broke."

"You can’t do this," Y/N gasped, her voice cracking with desperation. "Let me go, Charles. Alex, please..."

But they just stared at her, unmoved by her pleas.

"You went out clubbing, Y/N," Alexandra said, almost scolding. "Dressed like that, with those friends of yours. You’ve moved on, haven’t you?"

Y/N didn’t answer, too scared of what they’d do if she told the truth.

"You’re ours," Charles growled, his patience wearing thin. He grabbed her chin roughly, forcing her to look at him. His eyes blazed with possessiveness. "You always were, and you always will be. We were too nice before, letting you walk away like that. But not anymore."

Tears stung Y/N's eyes as she struggled against the restraints. Her wrists burned, her head pounded, and the overwhelming feeling of dread consumed her.

"I don’t love you anymore," she whispered, her voice trembling.

For a moment, the room fell silent. Charles' grip tightened painfully on her jaw, his knuckles white with tension. Alexandra's eyes flashed dangerously.

"You don’t mean that," Charles said, though his voice wavered. He was trying to convince himself as much as her. "You’re just upset. You’ll remember soon enough how good we were together. We made you happy, Y/N."

"You made me miserable," she spat, her voice gaining strength despite the terror gripping her. "I couldn’t even go online without people tearing me apart for being with you. And you did nothing. You let them do it. You cared more about your careers than about me."

Alexandra's face twisted with fury. "That���s not true! We loved you—we love you. Those people were jealous, that's all. They hated that you had what they wanted."

Y/N shook her head, refusing to be gaslighted by them. "No, you loved the idea of me. But I was never enough for you."

Charles stood abruptly, pacing the room like a caged animal. His hands raked through his hair, frustration evident in every movement. "You don’t understand. You were everything to us! We just... we just didn’t know how to handle it then. But we do now."

Y/N’s pulse quickened as she saw the crazed determination in his eyes. They weren’t going to let her go. Not ever.

"You can’t keep me here," she said, trying to reason with them. "Someone will notice I’m missing. The team... my friends..."

Alexandra smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "We’ve taken care of that. Everyone thinks you left the club with some random guy. They'll believe whatever story we give them."

Y/N’s stomach churned. She hadn’t realized how carefully they had planned this.

"You won’t get away with this," she whispered, though even she wasn’t sure she believed it.

"Oh, but we already have," Charles said, stepping closer again, his hand cupping her cheek with a false tenderness. "You’ll see, Y/N. In time, you’ll remember how good we are together. We’ll make you love us again."

Her breath hitched as she saw the manic intensity in his eyes. There was no reasoning with them. They had crossed a line, one from which they could never return.

"You can fight it," Alexandra said softly, brushing her fingers down Y/N’s arm, "but you won’t win. We’re not going to hurt you, Y/N. We just... we just need you back." Alex gave forcefully gave her a kiss on the lips, while Charles sucked the skin of her neck between his teeth, leaving a hickey behind. And just like that, they left.

Y/N closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek. She was trapped, bound in more ways than one, and no one was coming to save her.

[valsdelulucorner]

Tears too holy for thou

Lucifer ---> Mammon - Leviathan - Satan - Asmodeus - Beelzebub - Belphegor

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was so frustrated, why was he always getting blamed for everything that happened in this damn house! First Levi looses one of his mangas and snitches on lucifer when it was under his sheets the entire time, then someone eats the lunch he had made for you and himself, now hes being accused of stealing money from someone when he was just trying to get something from the other room! He is entirely sick of it! Why was he the only one that gets yelled at when he falls into his sin when everyone else gets away with falling for theirs?!

Storming into his room, he didn't realize the tears streaming down his cheeks while he just wanted to scream. He didn't know what to do once inside his room, just standing there while he simmered in his own anger. You were waiting on his sofa for him to continue movie night when he stormed in, expecting a happy mammon with snacks, not a mammon with burns all down his face.

It didn't take long before you came over to him, being careful around him as you didn't know what exactly happened for him to be pushed into this state. "Mammon? Are you alri-" You couldn't even finish your sentence when he grabbed you and held you close to his body, letting out silence sobs into your neck while his face ached and burned, his tears feeling funny against your skin. ".... 's not fair...." It was then when you got a basic idea of what had just went down.

You both moved this to the bed, him hiding his face against your chest while he basically coiled his arms around your waist, legs entangled with eachother while your fingers played with his hair. You didn't push him to explain what had went down with his family and you could tell he appreciated it, having someone to just lay with him instead of pushing him to talk was something he needed right now.

After maybe an hour or so just laying with eachother, he could feel your hand carefully cupping his cheek, whincing slightly as your thumb gently ran over the sensitive skin. "Mammon.... oh, your poor cheeks" He could see the worry in your face as your eyes locked onto the sensitive skin of his cheeks, glued to the red, angry marks that burnt away at his skin.

He didn't respond, instead, taking your wrist in his hand and pulling it away from his face, interlocking your fingers before kissing your knuckles. "Don't worry about it, 's nothing the great mammon can't get over", his comment making you chuckle slightly, smiling himself as your voice sounded like music to him.

When tears are too holy for thou, its nice to have someone who will just hold you, letting you know they care through actions instead of words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Haha, fingers go brrrrr

Im really not good at adding speach into fics, bro you do you do it.

This fic is based off of my headcannon that angels have holy water tears and fallen angels keep that gift when they fall, their tears burning their skin and eyes whenever they cry.

Close to midnight, its and im still stalling my college work lmao. Please mind the spelling and grammer

[hanniebaeee]

Baby Fever

Bang Chan x fem!reader

Warnings: baby talks?

Genre: fluff, established relationship

Summary: You and Chan are at a baby store, shopping for a friend's baby shower. And your husband experiences baby fever for the very first time.

The minute you step into the store, it feels like you've stepped into some kind of wonderland. The soft pastel shades, and soothing music in the background are just so overwhelmingly cute. You and Chan stroll through the store, browsing through the shelves for some gifts for your friend's baby shower.

You split up briefly, as you look through some cute little onesies, and Chan wanders away. A few minutes later, you realize that it's a bit too quiet, and Chan is nowhere to be seen. You look around, placing the onsie back in its place and your eyes search for your lost husband.

You start weaving through the aisles, your phone in hand to give him a call. And that's when you spot him.

Chan is standing in front of a display of baby shoes. In his hands is the tiniest pair of pastel blue baby shoes you've ever seen. His eyes are filled with awe, his lips curled into the softest smile.

You couldn't help but smile, leaning against a nearby shelf.

"Channie... everything ok?"

He jumps slightly, turning to look at you with wide eyes.

"Aren't these the cutest?" he asks, holding up the shoes like they were the most precious thing in the world. His voice is so full of excitement, you couldn’t help but laugh a little.

"They are cute," you tease, walking closer.

"So tiny!" Chan says, his cheeks glowing pink.

"They're baby shoes Channie, of course they're tiny." You say softly.

"But," Chan doesn't look like he understands. "How can anyone have such tiny feet?!"

You giggle watching him examine the little shoes in his hand, and it's just so pure and wholesome, your heart swells with love.

"That's how babies work, Chan. They have tiny feet, tiny hands... tiny everything!" You say, touching his arm gently.

"I know...its just, different, seeing it like this." Chan looks completely gone by now.

"What's on your mind, baby?" You ask, seeing the way Chan was so lost in the little thing. "Do you want to buy these for Jisoo?"

"What? No." Chan says quickly, holding the boots to his chest. "What if we… you know… need them someday?"

His cheeks are so red by now. You stare at your husband, trying to wrap your head around what he's trying to say. Sure, you've talked about babies before. You both want to have kids one day. But you've never really thought when.

You raise an eyebrow, amusement bubbling up inside you.

"Someday?"

Chan grins shyly, his ears turning slightly pink.

"You know…maybe... for our baby?" His voice is so low, you can barely hear him.

You bite your lip so you don't laugh, not because of the suggestion itself, but because of how adorably serious he looks.

"Chan, you can't just buy baby boots without a baby!" You say, covering your mouth with your hand as you laugh.

"But look at them!" He waves the tiny shoes in front of your face. "They’re so small, and soft, and—just imagine our baby in these!"

His eyes light up, and he's completely invested in this thought.

You lean in closer, your voice soft as you tease, "You can buy them once we have someone to wear them."

You wink at him and pretend it's nothing, but the effect is instantaneous. Chan’s face changes, the playful grin fading. He blinks, his lips parting slightly as his gaze locks with yours. And it's your turn to blush, as he says something that catches you completely off guard.

"Then let’s have a baby," he says, his voice soft but determined.

"Wait, what?" you stammer, as you blink in surprise.

"I mean it," he says, clutching the boots close to his heart. "If you’re up for it, I want this. I want… us to have a baby."

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, your heart racing as you try to process his words. He is standing in front of you, baby boots in hand, with a look that is literally melting you on the spot. It is so absurdly cute and yet so deeply romantic at the same time.

"Channie-" You begin, but he just looks at you with those puppy eyes, making you want to just give in already.

But you reach out and take his hand in yours, and say, "We're in the middle of a store, baby. Can we go home and talk about this?"

His expression softens, but he is still holding on to the boots like they meant everything to him.

"Ok." He says, smiling at you.

Later, when you both reach the checkout counter, you are billing the items when you see it. A pair of tiny pastel blue shoes sliding across the counter as the cashier scans them.

"Chan!" You hiss, giving him a look. "Are you serious right now?!"

He shrugged, a sly grin creeping up on his face. "What? You never know when we'll need them!"

"You're unbelievable."

"I just like to be prepared."

"Oh my God!" You just can't with his guy.

"I have a feeling we'll need them real soon. Just saying." He smirks at you as you shake your head at him.

Your heart skips a beat and you playfully shove him away, both of you smiling.

As you walked out of the store, you couldn't help but feel a little warmth bloom inside your chest. And as you look at Chan, you know that those shoes will come in handy sooner than you think.

[defire]

Stoic whumpee things I want to do more of:

Content: mention of rape, torture, noncon touch

Eye contact with whumper just following them across the room

Whumper going to touch them and they just lean out of the way as far as they can

Whumper touches them anyway. "Ew." Whumpee growls.

A solid sense of boundaries that slowly wears away, until finally, they just close their eyes, waiting for it to be over

Or, glaring at the wall when whumper touches them

Not having the same "scream" response to pain. Instead maybe they have something more animalistic, like whines or broken moans, or even gagging sounds

Bonus--whumper makes fun of them for this, cause they were hoping for some better screams out of them

A lack of fear turning very quickly into depression. (whumpee accepts their situation? They're going to quickly see how hopeless it is, too.)

Calm bargaining. "I'll kiss your feet." "No." "...I'll suck your dick." "Haha, nice try." *Exasperated sigh* "really? You said I was really good."

Never giving the information they're being tortured for, but compromising literally anything else because they are desperate, they're just also stubborn as hell

Whumper getting curious because of their silence and trying to get them to talk about themselves or their feelings. Locking them in a room and saying they won't leave until they talk.

"we'll play a game. You tell me one thing about yourself, and I'll give you one pretzel for each thing." *Starving whumpee rubs their face and sighs* "Fine. ...My middle name starts with N."

Discordant reactions--Whumpee just miserably laughing at how crazy evil whumper is. Breaking by going defiant. or by just being annoying (picking at whumper's sleeve, singing etc)

Maybe they just feel more depressed than anxious/desperate. Whumper trying to draw out their other feelings gets a chuckle. "That's very nice. I don't care."

Stoic works really well with certain traits--honest, loyal, morose, uncertain, thoughtful, autistic

[cosmicdahlias]

I Hate Everything About You

a ford x reader fic

MINORS DNI

warnings: slut-shaming, slapping, oral, rough sex, choking, breeding, drugs (weed)

this is my first stab at an enemies to lovers fic. i’ve always loved the trope, so this was a lot of fun. i also definitely didn’t include them smorkig weed because i’m like missing it and living vicariously through my writing or anything. 👀💦

You sat in your dorm finishing your homework. You were in your junior year at Backupsmore University with a major in theoretical physics, winter break was two weeks away. Tonight you were on edge, dreading a knock on the door. The reason? You had been assigned to write a research paper with Stanford fucking Pines.

Oh my god how you hated him. Success and praise flocked to him. You were the only feminine presenting person in your major, and thus had to fight tooth and nail to be seen as even half as good as your male classmates.

It drove you mad how professors just seemed to naturally love him, whereas they never showed you the time of day. And worst of all? He was arrogant and self-absorbed. He thought himself so much better than the other- in his words- “troglodytes” around him.

But what you hated the most was how attracted to him you were. How could you want to fuck someone so badly when you hated their guts? You always tried to repress your feelings, but some nights you still shamefully found yourself with your hand between your legs, thoughts running wild of Stanford using you like a sex toy.

You quietly seethed over your homework when you heard knocking at your door. You sighed heavily and pushed your chair back, savoring your last Stanford free moments.

You swung the door open and there stood the man that you despised more than everything.

“Stanford.” You said coldly.

“Y/n.” He responded, not even entertaining the idea of making eye contact with you, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else.

-

Barely an hour had passed before you two found yourselves locked in a heated argument. A simple disagreement over formatting had boiled over.

“Jesus christ, Stanford why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?”

“I’M making things difficult? I’m not the one who’s been shooting daggers all night, barely responding to my questions because apparently talking to me is like pulling teeth. What the hell did I ever do to make you hate me this much?”

“Oh you really wanna know why I hate you? Maybe it has something to do with the fact that professors fawn over you for the most menial effort, meanwhile I’ve had to work myself to the bone, slaving away just to earn half the recognition you barely have to lift a finger for.” You spat.

“Well maybe if you kept your legs closed every now and then this wouldn’t be nearly as hard as you make it.”

Hot tears formed in your eyes, you quickly raised a hand and brought it down hard on his face. He stumbled back, his cheeks turning bright red and not from the slap. You looked down, a bulge clearly forming in his pants.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” You thought, quickly growing angrier that he had managed to turn you on like this.

“For fuck’s sake Stanford, are you serious?” You said through gritted teeth.

“I- well I- it’s not like I can help it. I’ve never been slapped before.”

You stared at each other for a moment, the sexual tension building.

“Look,” he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation “it’s clear we both have some underlying feelings for each other, perhaps it would be for the best if we-“

“Whoa whoa whoa,” you said, cutting him off “maybe you do, but I certainly don’t.”

“Oh please, don’t lie to yourself. I catch you staring at me during lectures all the time, undressing me with your eyes, nothing anywhere like the malice you so pretended to demonstrate tonight. Admit it, you like me. Despite aaaaaall of your personal hangups about my successes, you genuinely have feelings for me.” He said, crossing his arms.

He let his words hang in the air, a smirk creasing his lips. God, he was such a dick. “Now,” he continued “I was going to say I think it would be best if we just put this to bed, literally.”

“Stanford, no I-“ the blush on your cheeks betrayed you.

He chuckled, tilting your chin up. “I knew it, you want this.”

He pressed a firm kiss to your lips. He was right, you did want this. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t imagined him between your thighs during class. You reached a hand down, fondling his cock over his pants.

“Mmm, fuck.” He groaned into your mouth.

You both began removing each other’s clothes desperately. He looked down at your naked body, his breath shaking. He took your breast in his hand, stroking your nipple with his thumb.

“Do you know the things those brutes in class say about you, about your body? When you walk into the room every man fucks you with their eyes, but you like it that way, don’t you?”

You took his thick cock in your hand and stroked it, he moaned and buried his head in the crook of your neck. He pulled himself away then pointed to the floor. You sank to your knees in front of him and wrapped your fingers around his cock again, pumping the near 8.5 inches in your hand. He tilted his head back, groaning and cursing.

“Put my cock in your mouth, baby.”

You went to slowly take his head in your mouth, but he seized a fistful of your hair and shoved the full length down your throat. You choked and gagged.

“You know I was thinking of being nice, but honestly I think you deserve to be brutally fucked after the way you’ve been acting. How does that sound, princess?”

You nodded with his cock buried in your mouth.

“Good, although honestly I was planning on doing it regardless.”

He gritted his teeth and resumed bucking furiously into your mouth. You to whimpered and gagged around him, tears streaming down your face.

“You’re my little slut now, you understand?”

You let out a muffled “Mhmf.”

“Look at you, letting me fuck your mouth like this. Do you let anyone else do this to you?”

He pulled out to let you answer. “No.”

He shoved his cock back in your mouth. “Let’s keep it that way. I’m not big on- mmf, sharing. I always figured the rumors of you being the campus whore weren’t true. You have too much self respect for that, but I bet you’re so dirty when you’re alone. Picturing me fucking you in every position, touching yourself and cumming with my name on your lips.”

He quickened pace, fucking your mouth rapidly in pure aggression. He growled and his hips stuttered, he was going to cum in your mouth if he kept going like this. He pulled you back by your hair and you took in a gasping breath. He didn’t give you a chance to breathe before picking you up and throwing you facedown on the bed.

He knelt behind you, slapping your ass hard a few times. “There, now I think we’re even.”

His hands pinned your wrists to the bed and he teased your entrance for barely even a second before slamming every inch inside you. You struggled to hold back a loud moan, trying to not let the whole floor know that you were getting absolutely wrecked.

He growled and moved his hands to your hips, fucking you so hard that it felt like his cock was going to split you in half.

“I have a confession to make, y/n.” He breathed between violent thrusts into you. “I saw you, two weeks ago, in the library. You didn’t see me, you leaned down to select a book off the lowest shelf and I could see your panties under your skirt. Pink with black lace. God I- I couldn’t resist, not after watching you eye me up in class. I found a quiet part of the library and stroked my cock to the thought of you.”

He picked up his pace, the slaps of his hips meeting your ass only aroused you more. “When our professor announced the assignment I knew I had to have you. I went and spoke to him after class and convinced him to pair you up with me. And now look at you, taking my cock like the whore you are, just like I knew you would.”

You gripped the sheets in your fingers as he pounded you into the mattress. Jesus fucking christ the idea of him getting worked up because of you was enough to fuel your masturbation fantasies for months. The thought of him stroking himself- in public no less- just because he saw your panties, good god you were going to savor that image in your mind forever.

He flipped you over on your back, kissing you deeply. His hands found your hips and pulled you onto his cock, resuming his aggressive rhythm.

“I love the feeling of fucking you from behind, but I need to see those eyes.”

He slid his hand to your throat, gripping it tightly. You choked out a weak moan and the corners of your vision started to turn to black static.

“God you’re gonna make me fucking cum. I want you to look in my eyes as I breed you, princess.”

He pounded faster and faster, savoring every moan and whimper that passed your lips. You dug your nails into his back causing his cock to twitch and throb, edging him closer by the second to cumming inside you.

“Look into my eyes, look into my eyes as I cum in you.” He demanded.

The sight of your doe eyes looking back at him was what did it. His brutally fast pace faltered and his breathing hitched and as he felt himself release deep in you, his hot cum coating your walls. He moaned your name loudly.

He panted, exhausted and collapsed beside you, trying to catch his breath. You were about to kiss him when he started making his way down your body.

“Stanford what are you-“

“Finishing the job, I’m not about to leave you unsatisfied like some kind of neanderthal would, I’m better than that.” He muttered.

You rolled your eyes, there he goes being arrogant as usual.

He took your clit in his mouth, you reached a hand down and buried it in his hair. He hummed against you, tongue lapping at your delicate nub.

“So desperate for me, aren’t you?” He teased.

“Nnnngh, Stanford.”

He looked up at you and chuckled. “Please, call me Ford.”

He slipped two fingers inside you, curling them against your g-spot. You arched your back instinctively and he held you in place by your hips.

“Getting close already are we?”

“Mmh, I can’t help it, you’re too good at this.”

“Surprisingly research goes a long way. It’s amazing what certain books can teach you.” He said with a devilish smile.

“You fucking nerd, I didn’t say you could stop.” You tightened your grip on his hair and pushed him against your clit, he let out a little “hmf”.

You rocked your hips against his tongue, feeling yourself tip over the edge.

“Ahh hah, oh Ford.”

Your orgasm shook you, hitting you hard. All you could do was focus on your breathing. Ford watched you intently, god you looked so perfect when you came.

He moved himself up on the bed, coming behind you and wrapping an arm around your waist, spooning you.

Goddammit, you really thought you were going to just bottle up your feelings for Ford until the day you died, but here you were in post coital bliss with him pressed against you.

-

The conflicting feelings of fucking the classmate you thought you despised moments ago started to weigh on you, you needed to take the edge off. You rolled out of Ford’s arms and off the bed, his eyes following you. You dug around in your bedside drawer pulling out a small baggie and a glass pipe.

You packed the bowl and flicked the lighter, taking took a long drag. You let out a cloud of smoke and sighed heavily before laying back down next to Ford, who was still watching you. You raised an eyebrow.

“What is it six fingers?”

“Nothing, I just-“

“Lemme guess, those anti drug psa’s really got to you as a kid.”

He looked away, embarrassed.

You rolled your eyes again. “Jesus, you really are a fucking nerd. Here.”

You handed the pipe to him, he took it in his hand, studying it for a second before flicking the lighter taking a deep inhale, you watched him hold his breath and couldn’t help but laugh.

“Dude, holding it doesn’t do anything, breathe.” You snorted.

He took gasping breath and let out a hacking cough, smoke coming out of his nose.

“That’s what they- ack- always do in the movies.” He wheezed.

“For the love of god, you really need to get out more.”

You passed the pipe back and forth for a good while, talking about random shit. By the end of it you were both sufficiently stoned.

You quickly learned that Ford was very affectionate when he was high, he pulled you close against him, nuzzling the back of your neck, peppering your skin with kisses. He traced the curves of your body with his fingers.

“You know, I was starting to think you genuinely hated me.” He murmured into your neck.

You let out a long sigh. “Ford don’t think I ever actually hated you, I envy you. Everything seems to come so easy to you, almost naturally. Your professors love you and- I don’t know- it was just hard not to feel a twinge of jealousy. Like this college wasn’t even my first choice, everywhere else rejected me and I still have to bust my ass just to be seen as being worth anyone’s time.”

Ford took a breath and exhaled deeply. “BMU wasn’t exactly what I had planned on either, I mean, remember what they said at orientation? This is no one’s first choice. My dream school was West Coast Tech, but things… fell through.”

He paused, you could tell there was weight to that last part, memories too painful to say aloud. You didn’t pry.

“Y/n, I want you to understand it hasn’t been easy for me either. I’ve had to work twice as hard just to make something of myself at a school with nonexistent educational standards.”

You felt a pang of guilt for ever assuming this was in any way easy for him. You turned to him, holding his face in your hands and kissing him deeply.

He broke away. “You know I was thinking we could grab coffee in the morning before heading to the library to work on our paper together. I- if you want, that is.” He looked away, nervous.

You smiled and kissed him again. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You laid your head on his chest and he wrapped his arms around you, kissing your forehead. His breathing deepened as he began to fall asleep. You soon felt your eyelids grow heavy, following Ford into slumber.

[kpopaussieline]

𝔖𝔞𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔢𝔡 | 𝔗𝔴𝔬

A/N: Ayy part two's here!! I just realised it's been a few weeks since part one, my bad y'all I'm releasing these as I finish them, so updates might be a little slower. I had fun writing this part, I hope you enjoy it!

And a massive thanks to my editor/cheerleader @un06 for everything she's done so far <33

Synopsis: You live in a village where girls are offered to the vampires that live in the woods that border the town. You're next. And you're in for a surprise.

Warnings: None (yet)

Part one / part two

┆✯✡◔♱◔✡︎✯┆

“Oh, you wanna run, gorgeous? Go ahead. We love a game of chase.”

You barely register his words through the pounding in your ears. You’ve never been this afraid. This desperate to get away. Your entire body is thrumming as you sprint toward the road out of Riverfield.

You finally reach it and for a moment you feel a sense of hope. Like maybe you can do this. Maybe you will be okay. You’re aware of the self-generated breeze fanning your face and tousling your hair. You’re aware of your feet barely touching the ground, and it feels like the closest you’ll ever get to flying. It feels like a taste of freedom.

Then you see a flash of movement out of the corner of your eye.

You look. Just a glance.

Your heart almost gives out. You don’t notice much about the man, just that he’s a few feet to your left and quickly gaining on you. You also catch the wicked smile on his face and his black eyes locked on you like an eagle targeting prey.

You push yourself to your limit, willing your legs to move faster.

You hear a chuckle. “Scared, princess?”

Another voice, more confident. “We’re gonna get you, love.”

Your throat seizes up, and you know– heart sinking past your stomach– that he’s right. You’re struggling to breathe, stitches cramping your sides. Your legs ache, feeling heavier with each step. You can’t keep this up much longer.

Tears build in your eyes, blurring your vision as you desperately try to continue running. But you’re slowing down, your body slowly giving up on you.

No. No, no, no. Please.

You feel an arm wrap around your waist and you let out a strangled scream. There’s a split second before you hit the ground. The impact knocks the wind out of your already worn form.

You’re flipped onto your back and the man straddles you, pinning you down. You force your eyes to stay open. Try to focus on his face, his words.

He studies you, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. He grabs your jaw and tilts your head so you’re meeting his gaze. “Tag,” he says in a low voice. He leans down and whispers, “You’re it.”

Your chest heaves as your consciousness begins to fade.

No. Stay awake, stay awake, stay–

Your eyes flutter closed as you feel all your energy draining away.

The man lets go of your jaw and your head drops to the side. “Sweet dreams, princess.”

***

You wake slowly, drifting away from sleep despite wanting to remain there. Even once you come to, you keep your eyes shut, nestling your face into the pillow and drawing the covers up to your chin. It’s so warm and comfortable here, there’s no way you’re getting up just yet.

You shift onto your back. Pain shoots up your spine and through your limbs. A dull but noticeable ache all over your body. You wince, going still.

Then… gradually… it all comes back to you. It starts with a feeling, like something is off. Then a few murky memories– nothing more than blurry images, like you’re trying to recall a dream. Then everything comes rushing back, hitting you like a truck– the images as vivid as when they were happening.

Sam and Ray. Your nanna. The Offering. Running away. The vampires–

You open your eyes and sit upright, ignoring the pain in your muscles.

The room you’re in is fairly simple. A timber dresser with a mirror hung above it. A large window covered with a lace curtain. The double bed that you are currently in and a rug underneath it.

You tenderly pull back the covers and swing your legs out of bed. You stand cautiously, hoping the floorboards beneath your feet won’t betray your movements. Silence. You tiptoe to the window and peer through the lace at the outside world, wondering where you’ve ended up.

The woods. Of course.

You move the curtain aside and study any possible route for escape. Getting down should be easy. There’s a balcony right there and if needed, you can tie sheets to the railing and climb down. You duck behind the lace curtain and grip the top of the window. You try pushing it up, but it’s jammed. You try again. It still won’t budge. You inspect the frame, eyes narrowing when you spot a translucent yellow stripe connecting the window to the sill.

They sealed the window shut? Jesus.

You run your finger over the material and it feels slightly rubbery. You might be able to cut through it, if you can get your hands on something sharp enough.

There’s a knock on the door and your muscles tense, your body going into fight, flight or freeze. The door swings open and a tall man strolls in like he owns the place (well, technically he does), carrying a plate of food. He uses his foot to close the door behind him, then places the plate on the bedside table. Only then does he finally look at you, sliding his hands into his jean pockets.

“Good morning, sunshine. I figured you’d be hungry.” He nods to the food.

You stare at him for a moment, brows furrowed and suspicion in your gaze as your eyes flick between him and the food. “You really think I’m going to eat that? Who knows what you could’ve put in it.”

He rolls his eyes. “Look, eat it and risk it being poisoned or don’t eat it and starve yourself. Your choice.”  

You blink, surprised by his attitude. You don’t know what you were expecting from a vampire, but it sure as hell wasn’t sass. You quickly gather yourself. “I’m good.”

The man shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He turns and picks the plate up, taking a bite of scrambled egg.

Your caution almost melts away as you continue to stare at him with mild disbelief. This is what you were so terrified of?

“Stop staring,” the man says without looking up. “Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?”

You cross your arms. “Of course they did, but I’m not going to waste them on some bratty vampire.” The words just spill out. You’re so used to using sarcasm, it slips your mind that you’re talking to one of your captors. You freeze again, worried you’ve just pissed him off.

But he just laughs, looking at you. “I’m bratty? I’m simply doing what I have the right to do, seeing as this is my house.”

He puts the plate down, walking slowly around the bed, and you instinctively take a step back.

“You’re like a frightened cat. It’s cute.” He smiles teasingly and it emphasises his youthful features. You hadn’t taken much notice, but he looks young. Like, the kind of young where maybe referring to him as a man is a bit of a stretch. If you had to guess, he’s probably close to eighteen or nineteen.

“What is it?” he asks, stopping a couple feet in front of you. He towers over you, looking down at you curiously. It would be more intimidating if he wasn’t so… normal. He doesn’t appear much different from any other teenage boy. You’re not sure he’s even a vampire.

You clear your throat, looking up at him. “It’s just– I– You–”

His grin widens at your stuttering and it irritates you. You take a second to compose yourself.

“How old are you?” you manage to ask.

He puts his hands in his pockets again. “As in how old should I be, or how old do I look?”

“Um... the second one?”

“Nineteen. What, am I not what you were expecting?”

“Well, not really, no,” you admit.

He smirks. “Let me guess. You were thinking Edward Cullen? Or maybe Dracula?”

Your lips twitch and you almost crack a smile. “No. I don’t know what I was expecting. But it wasn’t you.”

The guy smiles. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“So what’s your name, anyway?”

“You first.”

Really? You cross your arms again. “Y/N.”

His eyes narrow as he thinks something over. “Hm. I’m going to call you neko.”

You frown. “What does that mean?”

“It’s Japanese for cat.”

Your arms fall by your sides. “What? I’m not a cat!” you protest.

“You are now.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Why are you so offended? Cats are cute.”

“I don’t want a nickname from you.”

“Well now I’m offended,” the guy says, but he’s still smirking.

“Are you going to tell me your name or not?” you shoot back.

“Riki.”

You scoff and he crosses his arms, frowning at you.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you say, fighting a smile.

He shoves his hands back into his pockets. “Whatever.” He takes a step back, turns around and walks over to the plate of food. He picks it up, then heads for the door. “See you later, neko,” he says on his way out.

You grit your teeth as he shuts the door, not missing the smirk on his face at your reaction.

***

Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the last time you saw Riki. He came back the next day. And the next.

And now he’s back again, not bothering to wait after knocking before waltzing in.

You look up from your spot on the bed and eyeball today’s meal. It’s a sandwich. A rather delicious looking sandwich, loaded with fillings.

You’d had to give in a couple days ago, when the hunger became too much and you realised you’d have to eat eventually anyway.

Riki hands the plate to you and you take it, picking up the sandwich and taking a large bite.

“Mm… Thanks.” Your voice is muffled as you chew.

“No problem, neko.”

You roll your eyes, but don’t waste energy arguing with him about the new nickname. It seems to have stuck, and it’s probably going to stay that way.

Riki makes himself comfortable on the end of the bed. “The guys are getting impatient.”

You swallow and look up. “What?”

“The others. It’s day four. They’re not going to wait much longer.”

“For what?”

“You may be dumb, but I think you know.”

You ignore the playful jab and glance at the closed door. Yeah. You know. “They want to meet me, huh?”

“That too.”

You frown. “What do you mean, that too?”

Riki pauses for a second. “We’re due to feed again,” he says.

Just this once, you wish he wasn’t so blunt. The sandwich churns in your stomach. “Right.”

“Don’t worry, neko. It’s not as bad as people think. You didn’t even notice last time.”

You squint at him. “Last time?”

 He gestures to your right arm. “The night we took you, we drew some blood while you were passed out.”

You look at your inner elbow, at the faded mark there. It’s just a dot. You’d barely noticed it at first. “You use an IV or something?”

He nods. “Something like that. It’s called venipuncture. It’s the least painful and messy method.”

“Careful there. You almost sounded considerate.”

He chuckles, then the light-hearted sound fades into the silence.

It’s funny. Apparently, there’s six other men in this house, but you’ve never heard signs of any of them. Except Riki. And if you’re being honest with yourself, as irritating as he can be… you enjoy his company. Truthfully, you don’t know what you’d do without him to break up the monotony of the day. If you were just left to sit here for hours on end with nothing to do apart from stare out the window, at the trees and maybe the occasional bird. You’re pretty sure Riki has been the only thing keeping you sane.

“Want me to be honest, Y/N?” Riki asks, breaking the silence.

You sigh. “Not really, but we both know that’s not gonna stop you.”

His lips curl slightly, then his expression goes serious. “You’re right to stay here.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is hide,” you say, pushing the sandwich aside.

“Whatever you want to call it, it’s a smart move. I don’t think you would’ve coped well throwing yourself in the deep end and going out there on the first day.”

You look at him, genuine worry swirling deep in your eyes. “Is it really that bad?” you ask quietly.

Riki studies you and his expression softens. “Depends what you define as bad. But I can assure you, we won’t hurt you. But– that said– the others won’t go easy on you. They’re going to toy with you, try and get in your head, break through any walls you put up until you give in. I’ve been with these guys a long time. I’ve seen a lot of Offerings, a lot of young women just like you in this house, and I know the boys treat this like a competition. Like a game. Vampires are possessive, that’s the one thing the stereotypes got right. Every man in this house is going to want you, and there’s not much you can do about it.”

“Including you?” you ask with a weak smile, attempting to use humour to distract yourself from the dread winding in your chest.

Riki smirks softly. “No. I’m not saying that you aren’t pretty, but I won’t try anything. With you or any other girl that comes through here.”

“Wow. So you do have some respect.”

He laughs. “Look,” he says, tone turning serious again. “I know you’ve only known me for a few days. And that even then, you barely know me. But I want you to know I’m here to help you whenever you need me.”

You meet his gaze, not missing the shift of the energy in the room. “Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?”

“Because,” he says. “You’re about to go through a lot and you’ll need someone in your corner.”                   

He notices you staring absent-mindedly at the wall and he shuffles closer. “I’m sorry for freaking you out, that’s the last thing I wanted to do. I’m just trying to prepare you. I promise it won’t be as horrible as whatever you’re cooking up in your head right now. It will just be… intense, at times. But you seem like you’re strong enough to handle it. And you have me. You’ll be okay.”

Another beat of silence passes before you speak up. “Will you do me a favour? Will you go with me when I finally go out there?”

“Of course.” Riki pauses. Glances at the door. “Why don’t we go now?”

You look at him wide-eyed. “Are you crazy? After everything you just said?”

He smiles. “May as well get it done, right? Besides, you’re better off meeting the others before they get fed up and storm in here.”

“Stop saying shit to scare me!”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Sorry! It’s not my fault you’re a scaredy cat.”

“We were having a moment and you ruined it.”

He shrugs a shoulder. “What can I say? I speak my mind.”

“Well then get a filter.”

“Stop procrastinating.”

You sniff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not procras–”

Riki stands up, adjusting and smoothing out his clothes. “Come on, Y/N.”

You hesitate, looking up at him like an animal putting their trust in a stranger. You don’t see much difference, really. They’re the people, you’re the deer. Maybe they want to hunt you and put you on display, or maybe they just plan on admiring you. But you won’t find out until it’s too late.

You feel the paranoia start to creep in, like fog settling over a crisp morning. What if… Riki’s like the bait? What if he was sent in here just to lure you out? You’ve been taking his presence for granted the past couple days, but… it could all be fake.

Riki’s smile drops and he looks at you with concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

You stay quiet, feeling restless all of a sudden. You glance around the room, at the dresser, the wall, the window–

Wait.

The window. You remember the seal, the only thing preventing you from getting out.

You have to get out.

You look back at Riki. “Yeah, sorry. My mind was just…”

He shakes his head. “It’s alright. I get it, this is a lot.”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“So… are you ready?”

You take a moment, chewing your lip, before getting off the bed. You wobble slightly, your legs taking time to wake up after you’ve spent so long sitting down. “Not really, but… I guess you’re right. Might as well do it sooner rather than later.”

Riki quirks a brow. “You’re sure? I wouldn’t want your heart giving out or something.”

“Shut up before I change my mind.” You walk over to the door, your fingers wrapping around the handle. You take a breath, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

You swing open the door, the smell of aged wood and old wallpaper wafting up your nose. It’s familiar. It reminds you of home, of Nanna. Your newfound courage wavers for a second before you take another quiet breath, drawing back your shoulders and straightening your spine.

You look over your shoulder and see Riki watching you with an impressed gleam in his eyes. He offers you a small smile, comes over and stands beside you. He nods, silently nudging you to go out.

Just go.

You step out into the hall and Riki follows. There’s a window at the end, letting in some light, but it’s still dim. The dark floorboards are slightly worn, the panelling on the walls faded. There are several other doors lining the hallway, all of them shut. You glance at Riki again and he gestures to the left, stepping in front of you and leading the way.

As you walk down the hallway in Riki’s shadow, you feel skittish. Like a scared mouse. Like if there’s any sudden noise, you’ll startle and run in the opposite direction. You hate this, feeling so wound up with anxiety you could cry.

God, what happened to you? You’ve been through a lot, but you always managed to pull through. You were always strong– it was one thing people always admired about you, especially at such a young age. And after all that, now you’re going to cower and hide?

You know if Nanna were here, she’d tell you the same thing– albeit in a gentler way.

And that– the thought of your Nanna and the last time you saw her– is your turning point. You’re never going to see her again if you don’t get out of here. And how are you ever going to get out if you’re avoiding everything and everyone, rotting away in a bedroom?

You and Riki reach the end of the hallway and descend the stairs.

At the foot of the staircase, you see it opens up to a living room. It’s nice, in a vaguely ‘old money’ sort of way. There are two leather couches and three matching armchairs arranged around a wooden coffee table, all on top of an ornate rug. There are bookshelves stocked with hardcover volumes and paperback novels. The walls are painted a dark red, with the same dark wood wainscoting as the hallway, decorated with tapestries and oil paintings.

Riki leads you through the living room, and a wooden louvre door and a matching serving window come into view. You assume they lead to the kitchen.

You can hear soft shuffling on the other side of the door. You try to swallow, but it’s difficult when your mouth is running dry.

Riki grabs the doorknob, looking over his shoulder at you before opening the door. You step through after him and the first thing you notice is the man leaning against the kitchen counter. The first thing you register is that he’s tall. The second– despite yourself– is how he’s the kind of handsome where he’s pretty.

The two of you make eye contact and reality seems to slow down. Not because of how dreamy he is, or because it’s love at first sight, but because of how intimidating he is. You see the look in his eyes and you realise everything Riki warned you about is most definitely true.

The man smirks. “Look who it is.” He puts down the glass in his hand. “Finally come out of your burrow, love?”

You clear your throat quietly and step forward, standing at Riki’s side. “Yes.”

“Y/N, this is Heeseung. He’s the eldest, acts kind of like the leader around here. Heeseung, this is Y/N.”

Heeseung’s eyes sweep over you, and you have to strain not to shrink under his predatory gaze. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. It’s good to see you gained the courage to finally face us.” He picks up his drink again and takes a swig.

You grit your teeth, picking up on his condescending tone. “Pleasure to meet you too,” you say, making sure to insert some venom into your tone.

He smiles. He must be one of those types. The ones who get a kick out of riling people up.

Okay, calm and collected approach it is then.

“Can I get you anything?” Riki asks, interrupting the passive-aggressive exchange.

You tear your gaze away from Heeseung. “I’m good, thanks.”

He nods and walks over to the fridge, opening it and grabbing himself a can of soda. He pops the tab and has a mouthful. “Where is everyone?”

“Helping clean up the yard.” Heeseung places his glass in the sink.

“And you’re slacking off why?”

He chuckles. “I was going to head out after I finished my drink, and then you brought Y/N down.”

“Don’t let me interrupt anything,” you say, attempting your best polite voice.

Heeseung looks at you again. “You’re not interrupting anything, love. It’s just yard work, nothing the boys can’t handle.”

Riki claps him on the shoulder. “How about this? We can go give the others a hand, and neko here can take some time to look around and get comfortable.”

You hold back a snort. Comfortable, your ass.

Heeseung glances between you and Riki, arching a brow. “Neko?”

“It’s her new nickname. She loves it.” He grins playfully at you.

“Clearly,” Heeseung agrees, taking in your expression with an amused smile. “Well, love, I guess I’ll see you later. Feel free to explore. If you need anything, we’ll be out back, the door’s just through there.” He gestures to a doorway off to the side. It must lead to a mudroom or something.

With that, and a small wave from Riki, they head through the door and disappear from your sight.

You look around the kitchen, unsure what to do now. Then, as you stand there in the silence, something occurs to you.

You glance around once more, cautious this time. You strain to hear any signs that someone is nearby, but you only hear the birds outside.

You duck out of the kitchen and back into the living room. You notice a doorway by the staircase. You head towards it, your steps quick but light. As you draw closer, you see– with a flood of hope– that it’s the entryway… and the front door is mere metres in front of you.

 You spot a deadbolt on the door and your heart sinks, but when you inspect it, you realise it’s unlocked.

It’s too good to be true. The whole situation suddenly screams trap.

You chew your lip, looking over your shoulder. Should you turn back around and stick to the original plan of cutting the seal on the window? That might take hours, days. You’re right here. The way out, your chance of escape is staring you in the face. You can’t let it slip through your fingers.

You decide to take the risk, your fingers wrapping around the handle and slowly twisting it. A fresh breeze drifts through the crack, carrying the scent of oncoming rain and decaying leaves. You breathe it in, using it to ground yourself and steel your nerves.

You get ready to run as you open the door. Looking outside, the coast is clear. All there is to be seen is tree after tree, dead leaves covering a good portion of the ground, and dirt broken up with the occasional patch of grass.

You jog down the steps, going to turn left and run for it, when someone appears out of nowhere, blocking your path.

“You actually fell for that, huh, princess?”

You freeze, your eyes making their way from the dirt floor to the man’s face. Short dyed-blond hair, and fox-like amber eyes. He has the kind of features that give him the opportunity to appear youthful and innocent, or mature and attractive. And right now, he looks anything but innocent.

“Cat got your tongue?” he taunts, leaning down to whisper in your ear. He grabs your arms and turns you around.

You see Heeseung approaching from around the side of the house. The rest of the men are behind him. Your heart starts to race and your eyes dart between them all like a cornered animal.

“You know, love, this is the second time you’ve tried to run from us.”

Heeseung stops directly in front of you, crowding your space. You feel claustrophobic, caught between the two men with nowhere to go, the adrenalin making your skin itch with the need to run. You feel like you’re overheating, like the air is evaporating and you’re struggling to breathe.

He grabs your chin, tilting your head so you’re looking up at him. “It’s also the last time, I hope you realise that,” he says in a low voice. There’s a tense pause before he speaks again. “You know, Y/N, these woods are extremely easy to get lost in. But we know them like the backs of our hands. If you try to run again, we will catch you. And trust me, you won’t like the consequences… but we will.”

He releases his hold on your face and steps aside, letting the blond steer you back inside.

 As you’re led up the stairs and down the hall, you can’t help but feel like a prisoner being taken to their cell. The man opens the door to your assigned bedroom and pushes you inside, slams it shut, followed by the click of the lock.

You stare at the door, mind reeling. As your heart slows, clarity replaces the adrenalin. You clench your jaw, feeling a sense of anger rise in your chest. You bite down on the inside of your cheek as you feel tears building behind your eyes. Without thinking, you turn around and kick the dresser as hard as you can.

You yell a curse as pain shoots up your foot. Simultaneously, the mirror above the dresser falls off its nail and crashes to the floor. You jump back to avoid the broken glass, eyes widening with surprise. You kneel beside the shattered mirror, gingerly picking up a decent-sized shard of glass. You look over your shoulder at the window, the pieces clicking together in your head, and a smile creeps across your face.

┆✯✡◔♱◔✡︎✯┆

To be continued...

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[after-witch]

How a Minute Spends Now [Yandere Platonic L Lawliet x Sibling Reader]

Title: How a Minute Spends Now [Yandere Platonic L x Sibling Reader]

Synopsis: Your brother is dead. What pieces are there left to pick up?

Word count: 3800ish

notes: yandere, abusive sibling dynamic, grief and death mentions

Your brother is dead.

And oh, it’s clear now: whoever said death was an inevitable cold hard fact was a liar. Or stupid. Or both. Because this fact is not cold or hard; it’s warm, oozing, feeling like so much black sludge running between your fingers. 

You’ll never get it off--the death, yes, and the awful, sinking realization--

Your brother is dead and their first priority was not to tell you. 

They don’t bring you into a quiet room and ask you to sit down, before explaining in sympathetic, gentle tones that something bad has happened. That the brother who carried you through hell as a child, who kept you safe (and locked away) well into your thoroughly stunted adulthood, will never be coming back again. That you’ll never hear his voice or see his face or feel his touch. 

No. They don’t bother with you, first.

Their first priority is to gather together two of those damned groomed successors--Near and Mello, of course--and take them into a quiet room and explain, softly but succinctly, that L was dead.

That’s how you hear the news. You’d followed along, hackles raised when they were gathered up, and padded silently into the next room with a sourness in your stomach. And that’s how you hear it. With your ear pressed against the wall of the room next door, gleaning snatches of the conversation afterward through a horrible ringing in your ears.

(And aren’t you an awful thing? That you didn’t know until that moment? That you weren’t struck numb the moment he died thousands of miles away, that some guttural psychic primal instinct inside you didn’t say: Something is wrong and my brother is dead. Aren’t you a shitty person, that you didn’t somehow know without the muffled words through the wall?)

Mello is loudest. He cuts through that awful, disbelieving buzz that courses through you. 

“Who did he pick--”  And you don’t have to hear the rest to know what he’s asking. Did L pick him--or Near--as a replacement? As if he could be replaced. As if someone could simply step into his shadow and wear his skin.

“He didn’t have time,” answers Roger, and you puke a little bit of breakfast back into your mouth. 

What a thought--that L had been snuffed out without warning. Without time to think about it. Without time to regret, to come to terms--to call you. 

What was he thinking about, as he died? Was he thinking at all? Was there even the quickest of thoughts about you or your parents (distant, foggy beings that they were) or something else, something you would never know because your brother always kept some parts of him out of reach?

The wallpaper scratches underneath your fingernails, and a dim part of you wonders if they can hear it beyond the wall. Maybe you want them to hear you, hear the way your fingers dig into the paper and drag down as you slide onto the floor.

Your brother is dead, and you’re alone, and what the fuck was any of it for, if he was just going to get himself killed?

--

They do get you, eventually. Or rather, they find you, quiet and curled up in the corner of the room next door, a room you ought never to have been in. 

You don’t respond to the quiet calls of your name. You don’t respond when they step inside and Roger crouches down beside you, asking if--and he doesn’t finish the question, because he knows that asking someone “Are you all right?” when they are in a tight fetal position after clearly hearing news of their brother’s death through an orphanage wall is a stupid fucking question.

So all Roger does is put a hand on your shoulder and squeeze. It means nothing, and you get no comfort from it. No one here could comfort you. No one alive. 

“L left a letter for you,” Roger says, and it’s only now that you turn your head to look up at him. “Before he left for the Kira case.”

Kira. If only everyone who uttered that name had their tongue turned to ashes. 

“Give it to me,” you whisper.

--

It is his handwriting. Not a typed letter, which could be a forgery. No, this was written by his hand, his distinct scrawl. But what sealed the authenticity was that it was written in invisible ink, revealed through a solution only you had access to; L made it himself. Because he was smart--and a pompous asshole. 

But that’s how you know in the end that it’s not a fake, but a real letter. The last letter you’ll ever get from him. 

You bring the paper to your nose and sniff; it doesn’t smell like him. Maybe it did, at first, before whatever filing cabinet they’d stowed it in leached away the scent. Or maybe it smelled like him before you poured the solution on, and your anticipation to read what he said destroyed your last chance at remembering what he smelled like. 

It doesn’t matter.

The letter is simple and your hand trembles and the first words on the page hurt--tears drip down stupidly and turn blue when they hit the chemical solution on the paper. 

He’d make fun of you for crying, before wiping your tears with his shirt, so you’d call him gross and smile and feel a bit better. He would do that, if he were alive. But he can’t, because, as the letter says--

If you are reading this, I am dead. Kira has killed me. 

I was aware that this was a possibility--

Oh, fuck him. Fuck. Him. 

There is the urge to crumple the paper now. To find a fireplace and make someone light it and watch the paper burn, chemicals sparking, with satisfaction. How dare he. How dare he chase after this case, knowing it was a possibility, knowing that you might end up staring at this letter. Knowing that you’d be so utterly fucking alone. 

Breath coming in shallow pants, you keep going. 

I was aware that this was a possibility and I’ve prepared for it, as such. You don’t need to worry about money. It’s taken care of. You don’t need to worry about a place to live. It’s taken care of. 

You realize, dimly, that one of your hands has begun to pound against the wall. Who-cares-who-cares-who-cares. You don’t want to know that there’s money and a place to stay. 

What you want is your brother. 

You want him here so you can grab his shirt and tug him close and tell him he’s a massive asshole and you love him. You want him to tentatively wrap his arm around you, to give you a pat, to murmur something about being too clingy. 

You want him to suddenly pull your hair so you can stomp on his foot. You want to curl up in bed, like you used to, and wait for him to stroke your back to sleep while you asked him questions about anything and everything. His voice would be soft and dull, walking that fine line between patience and annoyance. You’d fall asleep while he told you something especially important, and he’d debate flicking your head to wake you up, a 50/50 chance that he’d do it.

But he can’t do any of these things. Not now. Not ever again. He has no voice to speak with, no body to touch. He has no more life in him at all. 

You couldn’t even visit his grave, assuming he had one. 

The tears are hot against your eyes as they drip-drop and stain the page now. It’s not fair, none of this. The death and the letter and the gray future ahead of you.

But you have to keep reading. Every word is precious, the last ones you’ll read from his hand. And maybe--this is awful, isn’t it--maybe this letter is where he finally has to admit that he’s been selfish. To keep you locked away, to put his need for control over your need to live a real life, to stay away as much as he does--as much as he did.

Maybe this letter is where he admits his faults as a brother, so you can cry over something other than the feeling of a gutted cave inside your chest. 

Maybe this is when he admits he’s kept you wrapped in a useless bubble, and that was wrong, and now you’ll get to--

I have given instructions that my successor will care for you like a brother.

The pounding on the wall stops. Thoughts come quick, snapping, punctuated by a red hot stings of electric hate. The bastard--how could he--why would he--the words don’t even seem to make sense, so you read them over and over and over, trying to understand. 

I have given instructions that my successor will care for you like a brother. I have given instructions that my successor will care for you like a brother. I have given instructions that my successor will care for you like a brother. I have given instructions that my successor will care for you like a brother.

But no matter how many times you read them, the words don’t register as anything but a jumble of phrases put together. He couldn’t have written that. But he did. Yet the very thought that someone else would care for you like a brother--

No. Your brother is dead, and no one can replace him. Not as the best detective in the world, not as your brother, not as anything. How could he, why would he, there’s no answer that comes so you let the questions singe the air instead. 

There’s a woozy, hazy fuzz that descends on your head like a net, and you lean against the wall. Red-hot anger simmers, bubbled with a hazy grief, as you force yourself to continue. 

I have left them detailed instructions on how to care for you. 

The words drop into your stomach hard, with no reprieve. He left instructions for your care, like you were a pet being looked after on a vacation. Fucker. You try to determine if it was a joke, or an intentional slight meant to irritate you, or not something he put any spite into at all. Was he being sincere? 

Because--well.

Is it entirely wrong? You and the figurative pampered dog both leapt to attention whenever your owners--whenever your brother--deigned to come home from vacation. From solving crimes. Both whined when he left. Both circled and moped, staring out the window, hoping for their return.

Not that there would be any return for L.

You will be safe and protected, as you were under me.

A hand goes to your mouth, covering a smile that no one else is here to see. Safe and protected, sure. Like a princess in a fairy tale, like some maiden kept under lock and key in a dragon-guarded keep. Only the dragon never breathed fire--only familiar platitudes and a comforting sameness that chained you down as well as the actual locks on the doors, the security cameras, the strict instructions for the security guard at the gate.

But you were safe, and you were protected. And here you are, now, wet tears on your cheeks, anger in your stomach and a smile on your face, because your brother apparently put you in his will like some sort of inheritance for whoever takes up his mantle. 

Please don’t do anything foolish now that I’m gone. Not that it stopped you, before.

A flash in your mind, the image of your brother’s smirk, curling up at the ends. A thumb in his mouth to soften it. 

It aches and it doesn’t, this image, the clear sense of L in these words. Why can’t he be here? Why this pain, this gouged sense of reality that makes you feel like screaming until there’s no more air in your lungs? 

Your hand finds the wall again, scratching at the paper with as much force as you can, rippled scratches following in their wake. 

Better the paper than your skin--your skin will heal. They’ll have to replace the wallpaper if they want to fix the jagged scratches. Let them replace it. Let them replace it like they want to replace your brother, and see where it gets them. You’ll be there in either case. 

There’s nothing more on the paper. You’re not sure if you expected there to be; you can’t imagine him writing soft, sweet words of comfort. He never said them, not exactly, so why write them now? No “I love you,” no “You’ll be fine without me.”

But, ah. There’s more to that, isn’t there? L would never write “You’ll be fine without me,” because he didn’t like to lie. 

And who is the successor that will receive these so-called instructions? He hasn’t chosen anyone. Roger, you’d heard, suggested Mello and Near work together. Fat chance. Like they would--like they could. 

They couldn’t, and they can’t, and they don’t. It isn’t long before Mello leaves and there’s one less orphan in the building, and Near steps in.

To be trained, to be raised, to study the Kira case--to take care of you, so says your dead brother in his last letter. 

But Near isn’t L. 

And you’re alone.

--

It is not terribly long after you become brotherless--and rudderless--that you walk into your room to find Near sitting on the floor, stacking rows of gray, pattern blocks that resemble a cityscape in the center of your private little space.

The sight of him is wrong. He looks--not like L, not in that way. But the posture. The outfit. If you squint--and you do--you can blur him into something like a younger version of your brother. Different hair, of course, but didn’t he sometimes sit like that when he played? When he refused to share his blocks, and made you watch him play, and occasionally deigned to let you place a piece or two as long as you put it exactly where he told you?

And you always did, little fingers trembling, because you wanted him to think you were good enough to listen. Good enough to do what he says, because he was older, and smarter, and you should listen to him. 

There’s a lump in your throat before you realize it.

”Why are you here?” Your own voice is a croak, rusted from ill-use. Crying. Shouting. Not talking for hours until you had to.

It’s not like you had too many people to talk to, anyway; but if you get him to talk, then this blurry vision will vanish. Near might look a bit like your brother, might have the same penchant for picking things apart, but he wasn’t L. Never would be, not really.

He doesn’t look up when you speak. Thank God for small mercies. Instead, he takes one finger and pushes it in the center of a block tower, creating a window. 

“Roger said you were upset.”

The temptation to blur vanishes with the sound of his young and decidedly not-L voice, and it’s easier to cross your arms, to put up the defenses. 

“Obviously.” A little less dry now. A little more sarcastic. And a little more alive than you’ve sounded in weeks, or months, or however long it’s been since your brother ceased existing and your life at Wammy’s became all the more bleak. “My brother died.” 

Near’s eyes finally flick up to you before they dart back down to the blocks. He carefully slips a block figure--a bland smiling thing--into the window. 

He speaks softly, with little intonation. You hate how familiar it is. 

“That is, upset about me.” 

The sound of your stupid little intake breath in the quiet room is a little too much to bear, and you try to focus on the sound of the blocks instead. The small shift of the pieces as he slides them here and there, the clacking sound as they stack together. 

Click. Clack. 

What does Roger know, anyway? 

“Not about you… in particular,” you admit. It’s the most you’ve admitted to Near in--well. Ever. It’s not like you were eager to talk to many of the children at Wammy’s, especially when you outgrew them. Yet unlike the orphaned faces that faded from memory in time, you weren’t adopted, weren’t eased into some other life outside these walls; instead, L kept you here, guarded, safe, and completely stuck. 

And you are stuck. You’re an adult. You could’ve stormed out the doors the minute L died, you’re sure, legally speaking (before that--even--before that you could’ve left); started walking and taken up a job at some shitty diner and rented a room in a seedy motel until you were on your feet. 

It’s something that you’d threatened in L’s face from time to time, and he didn’t even deign to take you seriously, and it’s only now that he’s dead that you understand why.

He knew you wouldn’t leave. Couldn’t leave? Maybe it’s the same thing. Because he was right. There’s no life for you out there; no life for you in here, except for what L left you, which includes--somehow--this boy in front of you, stacking blocks, who is supposed to take up the position of older brother. In capturing Kira and everything else.

“I’m going to take care of you,” he says, all matter-of-fact. “L left instructions.” 

Your chest squeezes. Those fucking instructions. You had asked--stormed up in a huff, demanded, in a tantrum--Roger to read them, and he refused. Said L indicated the letter was for his successor’s eyes only. 

So all you had was your imagination; did L write down a list of things you liked, things you didn’t like? Did he rattle off your favorite foods, what time you were supposed to go to bed, what to do if you had a meltdown and began to cry over your social isolation? Or did he--the thought was tempting, however improbable it was--write something more sentimental? 

Logic and bitterness win out, and you imagine Near reading the details of the letter meticulously, probably looking for the words-within-the-words, all while flying an airplane with his other hand. 

“I’m not a dog.” Your eyes dart over the blocks, over the memory of all the toys you’ve seen Near playing with; there’s something painful in that image, for too many reasons. “Or a toy.”

“Yes, I know.”

Near doesn’t look up again. Instead, he flicks his hand, and knocks over the tower with the window, with the smiling person inside, who topples to your carpeted floor. Something about it makes you want to laugh; makes you want to get on the floor and ask if you can push over the next one. Tears prick at the edge of your eyes. 

Instead of swooping onto the floor, you weave around the circular city he’s created in your room without permission, and climb onto your bed. The book you were reading this morning is still there, ragged bookmark jutting out of it. Your bed is unmade, otherwise. Sheets rumpled and unwashed. You haven’t bothered with the bed since L died. Haven’t bothered with a lot of things, besides. 

It was an older book. A philosophical treatise from the 1930s, when Europe was on the cusp of war; translated into English and shuffled around the hands of starving artists and avant garde thinkers until, decades later, it landed, battered, onto the shelves of the orphanage for gifted children. Gifted children and you, L’s leftover baggage.

Well. If Near is going to barge into your room without permission, you won’t let it impact your day. Roger said if you didn’t start eating again, you couldn’t borrow books; that’s where you’d been, before you came back. Grabbing something to eat under his watchful eye and eating it with deliberately pointed chewing motions, as if it bothered him.  

So you’ve eaten. Now you can read. 

“What are you reading?” He asks, like he didn’t already see the title of the book. He probably saw it on your bed whenever he first came into your room. Probably knows exactly where it rests in the Wammy library when it’s not checked out, and who else has read it besides you.

But he’s asking anyway and something empty in you clings to that question, as you curl up on your side--body and soul aching for the physical curled-up nest of your brother that doesn’t exist anymore.

You hold up the cover and shrug, hiding the need, pushing down the urge to bury your face in your pillow and have an imaginary conversation with your dead brother.  It wouldn’t be the first one you’ve had this week.

Near’s eyes flick to the book, before he works on creating another tower. 

“Do you like it?”

Your heart clenches. You’re reading into it, the way it reminds you of L. The way the question is open and you can’t tell if it’s asked because he thinks the book is pointless trash and will find you silly if you like it, or because he genuinely wants to know. 

It’s not a book you’d read again, that’s certain. Not because you think it’s awful, but because none of it really makes sense to you. You’d grabbed it because the thought of reading a novel you’d been eager to read while your brother’s corpse was buried thousands of miles away made you want to vomit. So a random philosophy book was the better option. 

You don’t want to tell Near all of this; because of his age, because he’s little more than someone you know, and because like your brother, you want to keep some things secret. 

“I don’t understand most of it,” you admit, finally, the words sticking to your mouth a little. A bit of truth would be okay, in the end. “I just wanted to occupy my time, I guess.” Reading words from someone who furiously pushed them out on his typewriter almost a hundred years ago was better than thinking about who wasn’t in the room. 

Near smiles, a little, not looking away from the blocks. 

“Do you want to help?”

He doesn’t stop what he’s doing, picking up each piece carefully and stacking it just-so. He leaves the toppled tower, figure and all, where it is. 

You’re not sure how long you wait before deciding.  All you know is that in your isolated room at Wammy’s, with only a window to the outside world you’ve barely known to give you any inkling of the passing of days, you slide onto the floor and tentatively pick up one of the toppled blocks.

Near doesn’t tell you to leave those where they are, and that’s okay.

He doesn’t tell you where to put it, either, as L would have certainly done--and somehow, that’s okay, too.