#you don’t understand how much this killed me inside

[jennaispunk]

Every Time You Go Away

Summary: You have very few vices and the biggest one is Javi. It can never be serious but tell that to your heart.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f! Reader

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.8k

Tags/Warnings: fluff, angst, allusions to smut, fingering (f! receiving), unprotected PIV (wrap it up, peeps), idiots in love, unspoken feelings, longing, two people who want what they think they can’t have, smoking, reader understands Spanish but does not speak Spanish in this story, reader is shorter than Javi, has hair that can be tucked behind her ear, and can be picked up by him but no other physical description is given, reader has an occupation (she's a teacher). Reader has a nickname (cariño, and one other that I won't spoil here). If i missed anything, please let me know.

A/N: This fic was written for @yopossum mootboard challenge. I love this moodboard so much and I love how much it inspired me. Thanks to @fallingforthearch for being my #1 fan and to @fhatbhabiee for looking this over for me. This is the first thing I’ve written that’s anywhere close to being angsty and it killed me to not give these two a HEA (maybe I will someday)

divider and banner by @saradika-graphics

Most people would be out on the town on a Friday night, enjoying the bars and nightlife Bogotá has to offer, but not you. You sit at home on your couch, waiting. He’s going to knock on your door any moment now, he always does at this time of night. You sip your glass of wine and stare at the stack of ungraded papers spread over the coffee table. You had assigned your fifth-grade class an essay and now came the laborious task of reading them.

Why you do this to yourself, you’ll never know. Javi doesn’t love you and he probably never will. You are an outlet for him, a place where he can unload his stress and drown his worries inside you. You’re no better than a whore, but at least whores get paid. You let him use you for free. You let him use you and leave and you never ask for anything in return. You’re always there with a soft smile and a willing body. Damn, you wish you could turn him away, tell him that this isn’t working for you anymore, but you can’t. You’re in love with him, you have been since the moment you met at that boring Embassy party. The thought of him not being in your life hurts worse than being his fuck toy; at least you get to touch him, kiss him, give him some sort of comfort.

“Hey, cariño.”

He props himself against the doorframe, his lean body drawn to its full height. His leather jacket creaks as he moves his arm, and heat slowly spreads through your chest.

You silently make way for him to enter your apartment and softly close the door behind him. He moves across your apartment with feline grace, like he owns the place. You suppose he does, in a way. No other man has spent so much time in your apartment since you moved to Columbia.

He prowls over to the small bar near the kitchen and pours himself some whiskey. A soft chuckle fills the air as he realizes it’s his favorite brand. There’s only one store in Bogotà that sells this brand and it’s not that close to the school or your apartment. His heart squeezes in his chest, you really are too sweet for him.

He lands heavily on the couch, the familiar mixture of cigarette smoke, aftershave and whiskey invades your nostrils. The scent fills you with a myriad of emotion and your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth.

He lights a cigarette and takes a long drag as you settle onto the couch next to him. He’s the only one you would ever let smoke in your apartment. You sit close enough to touch him, but you don’t. Javi likes to be in control, and you wait for him to make the first move.

He shouldn’t do this to you. You should be with someone who could give you everything you need….someone who wasn’t him. He wasn’t any good for you, he knew that, yet he showed up at your door like he always does, and you let him in.

He knocks back his whiskey in one fluid gulp, his Adam’s apple bouncing as he swallows. You look so goddamn sexy in those silky lavender sleep shorts. His left hand clenches and unclenches trying not to jump you right then and there.

“What’s all this?”

He jerks his head toward the chaos in front of you. Leaning forward, he sets his empty class on the table and picks up the top sheet of paper.

The corner of your mouth tugs upward as he studies the paper with intensity. You could almost make yourself believe this is what it would be like if the two of you were actually a couple, the two of you sharing a quiet moment after a long day.

“My students had to write an essay on their dream job. I was trying to get a head start on grading them.”

His signature smirk played on his lips as he read.

“The Ambassador’s son wants to be a DEA agent, huh? Bet she loves that.”

Your soft laughter lifts over the quiet music you had playing in the background. The Ambassador had no love for the DEA agents working in Columbia, especially Javi and his partner Steve.

“Maybe I should have you come in and talk to the class.”

You were only half joking but the thought of the tough and stoic Javier Peña standing up in front of a group of ten year olds makes you smirk.

He drops the paper and loud sigh escapes his lips as he pinches the bridge of his nose. You know exactly what that means.

“Tough day?” you ask quietly.

He tells you about his day while you listen silently. He leaves out the worst parts, of course. He can’t bear to tell you the whole truth, not wanting to subject you to the worst parts of his job. You don’t need that.

His large, warm hand rests on your bare thigh. As he talked, his hand caresses your skin, his fingers kneading your soft flesh. The need to feel you, to possess you is almost overwhelming and he grits his teeth. Those lavender silk pajama shorts are killing him, so much of your creamy flesh is exposed to him. His hand snakes further up your thigh as he takes a deep breath.

You watch his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed, the heat burning between your thighs. You shouldn’t want this; you know exactly what this is, but you can’t help yourself. You need to hang onto him, even if what you have isn’t real. This is enough. Oh, the lies you tell yourself.

“Want a refill?”

You already know the answer. He never gets drunk with you. He never has more than one drink when he’s with you, but you always ask. You’re just buying time, trying to stretch out the time spent together as long as possible.

He shakes his head slowly. His shoulders sag like he’s carrying the weight of the world. He knows he shouldn’t do this. He shouldn’t do this, he should have just went to see Vanessa or one of the other girls. He hadn’t done that in weeks. You’re the only one who can give him what he needs.

“Come here, cariño.”

He pulls you into his lap and wraps his hands around your waist, keeping you settled securely in his lap, right over the bulge in his grey jeans. The heat from his body soaks into yours and desire pools at your core.

He couldn’t look you directly in the eyes for more than a few moments at a time. He knew exactly what he’d see there. He’d see the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, and he knew that he was ruining you. He knew that you would never ask for more than he gave you and that broke his heart.

His lips crash against yours, his soft tongue plunging deep into your mouth. The wine on your tongue mixed with the whisky on his and he gripped your hips tighter. He wanted to lose himself in you, let you calm his raging soul, if only for a brief time.

Javi’s thick fingers snake up your back and into your hair. His grip is firm, but not painful. He doesn’t want to hurt you, even though that’s exactly what he’s doing. The pain may not be physical, but he was causing you pain, nonetheless.

He tilts your head back, his lips trailing down your neck. Vanilla and cherry fill his nose, a scent that’s uniquely you, driving his need for you even higher.

His teeth lightly graze your skin, and you moan softly. He knows just how to touch you, which parts of you are the most sensitive and he played your body perfectly.

He wraps your legs around his waist as he stands. His mouth is on yours again and he kisses you deeply as he takes the familiar walk toward your bedroom. It’s a trip he’s taken enough times that he doesn’t need his eyes to know where he’s going.

Your body looks so beautiful spread out for him on your soft sheets. You’re always so willing to let him have you anyway he wants. You give yourself to him so freely. How could someone so pure want someone like him? He’s not a good man and he doesn’t pretend to be. He did horrible things, told himself it was for the greater good but was it really? Are the things that he was doing worth it?

Javi slowly unbuttoned his shirt as he stood between your parted legs. He knows you like to watch him undress and he is more than happy to give you a show.

His smooth, tan chest is exposed to you little by little, making you throb harder with every pop of the buttons. The belt came next, unlatching it one handed as his other hand strokes your thigh.

You squirm as he unbuttoned his pants, giving you a peek at the small curve of his belly and the strip hair that led to the thing you wanted most.

He gently jerks you to a siting position. Practiced hands pull your tank top over your head, exposing you to him. He kneels before you, his soft lips brushing your neck. You’re so sensitive to him and it only serves to make him even harder.

Teeth gently nip at your exposed skin as he makes his way down your body. You are soft and so much of his world was rough. You soothe him, you make him feel whole.

“Javi…”

Just like always, you’re putty in his hands. You let him mold you in his image, desperate to have any piece of him that you could. You’d take anything he gave you. Despite what he might think, he’s a good man. You’ve seen how much he cares about his work and the people closest to him.

“Shhh, cariño….I’ve got you.”

His lips and tongue tease at your nipple, and your fingers tangle in his hair. He chuckles lightly into your skin as he plays your body like an instrument.

He pushes you back onto the bed and pulls off your shorts. His pupils are blown with lust as he marvels at the sight before him.

In a perfect world, he would take his time with you, he would treat you as gently as you deserve but he couldn’t. If he did, he’d only drag you down with him and he couldn’t live with that on his conscience. It was better to keep you at arms length, keep you safe.

His fingers drag through your wet folds and dip inside. He can’t hold back a strangled groan as your heat surrounds him. He works you slowly, opening you up for him until the tingle in your lower abdomen tells you it won’t be long before you came undone for him.

Your body clenches around his digits, your moans filling the room. Stars blind you as your orgasm ripped through your body with a vengeance. Javi’s hushed voice works you through it until you whimper his name.

You didn’t give you much time to recover before he was pulling off his jeans and his body covered yours, settling between your thighs. His weight on you feels good, comforting even but it shouldn’t. For now, you pretend this was more than it was. You pretend that this meant something and not just a way for him to release his tension.

He intertwines your fingers with his, pinning your hands to the bed. Holding your hands like this is the only bit of intimacy he allows himself.

He pushed himself inside you, holding back a moan. All his worries vanished as your warmth surrounded him. He’s lost in the feel of you, the way you grip him so tightly. He’s convinced this is the closest he’ll ever come to heaven.

His pace steadily increased as you moaned for him, making those sounds that he loved to hear. You sang so beautifully for him.

You mewled as he hit the spot that only he could reach, and you knew you were close to coming for him once again.

You cried out his name and your walls squeezed around him.

“That’s it, cariño…don’t fight it.”

You tried to hold back. You wanted this to last as long as possible because you know as soon as it was over the spell would be broken. You’d have to face the reality that you loved a man that didn’t love you back.

“Be a good girl and come for me.”

You obey his command, and your walls fluttered around him as your second orgasm hit you. It felt like an electric shock through your entire body. Every nerve in your body fired all at once.

You whimper softly as the aftershocks ripple through you. Javi never stopped, working your through your orgasm once again as you whine and cry for him.

He picked up his pace and his hips slap against you as he chased his own release. His hips stutter as he buries his face into your neck and spilled himself inside you, painting you with his seed.

He laid on top of you for a minute, breathing you in and taking advantage of the last few moments he had you like this. He couldn’t let himself linger too long and he rolled off you, reaching down for his jeans to grab his pack of cigarettes.

Your mind was still hazy as you roll onto your side, watching him rest against the headboard and light his smoke. This was yet another thing you only did for him, you would never let any other man smoke in your bed.

He smirked at you as the cloud of smoke obscured his face. It was his way of telling you he was satisfied. He couldn’t say it out loud, that would be too much.

He crushes the butt into the ashtray on the nightstand and laid back down. He smooths the hair from your face, tucking the strands behind your ear. It’s the only bit of comfort he can offer you. It’s not nearly enough, he knows that, but he can’t let himself give you more.

“Get some sleep, rana (frog).”

A giggle bubbles up from the depths as you hear that stupid nickname he gave you. Not long after you first met, he told you that you reminded him of Sally Field’s character in “Smokey and the Bandit”, his favorite movie. You thought he was crazy, but somehow the nickname just stuck.

You didn’t want to sleep because you knew what came next. You knew he would leave once you were out. He would leave the way he always does, like a thief in the night. Did he know that he was also leaving with your heart? Did he even care?

Sleep finally took you. You never could stay awake long after being with him but maybe that was for the best. If you were awake when he left, would you be able to resist the aching need to ask him to stay? You didn’t think you were that strong.

He watched you for awhile as you slept. You looked so peaceful in that state, like an angel. Maybe you were…. maybe you were here to save him even though he didn’t deserve it.

He quietly disentangles himself from the sheets and looked back at your sleeping form one last time. You look so beautiful with your messy hair and your soft body wrapped up in the sheets. His heart ached to tell you how he felt, how he longed for you, but he could never do that. You’re too good for him; he’d only ruin you with his roughness. He would never forgive himself if he hurt you. You belong with someone better than him: a doctor or a lawyer, someone who would treat you the way you deserved. You’d drown his darkness; it would swallow you up and change the very essence of who you were. Still, he came back, time after time, taking everything you gave him without so much as a complaint. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t let you go. He loved you…you were the one thing that kept him sane. Maybe one day he could be the man you needed but today was not that day.

The sun streaming through your bedroom window woke you. Just like always, you woke up alone. The bed cold and empty next to you, but his scent still lingered. You roll over and bury your face in the pillow allowing yourself to breathe him in the way you never dare let yourself when he’s here. Admitting your feelings is not an option but that’s all you want to do. Maybe one day you’ll be brave enough to look him in the eye and tell him you want more. You can handle his darkness; you’ve been doing it for months even if he doesn’t realize it. Maybe next time you won’t just fall asleep…. you’ll ask him to stay.

[kyuyua]

Me, wanting to rewatch some of Merlin before it’s gone forever and I have to resort to illegal websites: what’s the gayest episode

The Poisoned Chalice:

[quietwingsinthesky]

sometimes i think about my spn oc and how i rewrote everything about amara to interact with the story i was trying to tell about her. there were some really neat ideas in that i need to recycle for something one day. like, in the show proper, they just let amara take over a human baby and that’s fine, but amara’s not Meant To Be Here. this entire universe is one constructed in her absence. saying she can possess a human body should be like saying if you took a person and sent them to a universe where 1+1=3, they could just figure out how to function within that.

which in story took the form of Amara being something that could not be Understood, only Rationalized. a force locked outside the narrative who could only get inside and destroy things if given a role within it. by the Winchesters as A Monster To Face. by Chuck as Wayward, Unreachable Sister. and by miss oc as. simultaneously a projected creature to be saved, an amalgamation of injustices done to herself (and others) that would never be righted but could be made up for by being a part of this. and as something impossibly powerful that could be both protection and purpose.

and the Darkness wasn’t any of those things, really, but to have agency in her own story required new shackles, but ones she was always straining against. she wouldn’t fit inside the confines of a human mind, let alone a body, at least not well enough to leave it Intact. like lucifer burning through nick, but Worse. because the burns were an expected outcome of skin not strong enough to hold him. humans were built for angels, some were built better and some worse, but they’re meant to work. putting amara in human skin should disconnect the skin and mind and soul from the reality her brother built itself, i think. slowly. bit by bit.

and at the same time, i’d gone and written the kind of wild scenario you really can only write for your thirteen year old mary sue, given that spn oc the part of herald/high priestess/failed vessel. which she pursued with wild abandon like that would fix anything wrong with her <3

in the end, running alongside the borrowed family theming of the original show was my own theme of “how much self-annihilation will you accept to make your point. are you accepting it, really. or are you seeking it.” not just physically, in letting something unmake the base components of what you are as it tries to fit inside you or in it constricting and suffocating itself beyond self-recognition to get inside in the first place, but, obviously, it’s supernatural, how much selfhood do you cede to your family. is it worth it.

it was interesting, if nothing else. let thirteen year old me cook. she had ideas.

[salehasposts]

MY GODAMN BABIES I MISS THEM SO MUCH 🥺

[lilgynt]

like i know it’s dumb i should have moved out already, i already know my mom doesn’t like me, but it’s like hm. gonna cry at work bc my mom doesn’t want me and really hasn’t ever wanted me and what does that say about me that my own mother doesn’t want/love me

[lovebugism]

thigh riding Carmy because he isn't paying attention to you please please please 😭

summary: carmy misses date night and finds a way to work and make you feel good at the same time (2.2k)

pairing: carmy berzatto / f!reader

contents: established relationship, thigh riding, public setting (ish), dirty talk, smut with sprinkles of fluff 18+

Carmy’s office is a windowless concrete cage of chaos. There are a million papers stacked and scattered across his desk, half-hidden beneath books that are flipped open to random pages. You’re not sure how he’s keeping up with any of it. Though, to be fair, you’ve never been able to completely understand his mind.

You know him better than anyone else, but he’s still such a mystery to you sometimes — like a language you can read perfectly but can’t speak all the way. 

You don’t know why he runs himself aground with work even though it kills him, even though he swears the enormity of his desire brings him back to life again. You just know to try and save the drowning man from himself from time to time, and not to let him strangle you with his panic in the process.

“Bear?” you call gently into the amber-lit office, knuckles rapping against the opened door. “You ready?”

Sitting slouched over his desk, you can hear the faint tap tap tapping of his pen against the paper, an anxious tick for his ever-fidgeting fingers. “No. Not— Not yet, baby. I’m fuckin’— I’m drowning in this paperwork right now.”

He lifts his heavy head from his tattooed hand and glances at you over his shoulder. The sight of you makes his breath catch — leaning against the doorframe, all pretty in the lamplight, wearing the dress he bought you.

The deep emerald silk drips over your body like summer rain. It dips low at your chest and flows just above your knees, fitting you like a total dream.

Carmy, for a flicker of a moment, forgets to be anxious. 

While his eyes dart over your form, the rest of the world disappears — it could be entirely falling apart for all he knows, but all he can see now is you. Your stormy eyes, your soft skin, and your quiet sensuality. Your ruby lips, your cheeks like wine, and your gentle voice. 

His mouth falls agape to say words he can’t make out. His ocean eyes go wide, glimmering a deeper blue in the low light — which casts dark shadows over the sharp edges of his face. His gaze is like the sea. You feel yourself drowning in it accordingly.

“It can’t wait?” you press gently, lifting yourself from the doorframe and sauntering slowly towards him. Closing the door behind you, you drop your chin to your chest and flash the boy a sheepish smile. “All the restaurants are gonna close soon.” 

Carmy huffs. He knew better than to plan a date. He’s far too busy — or, rather, he doesn’t allow himself to be anything other than busy because there’s a voice inside him that just won’t be still. Working himself to death was an art he did exceptionally well, which hadn’t bothered him so much until he met you.

“I gotta get this done, babe,” he answers sympathetically, tilting his chin to keep his eyes locked with yours as you near him.

Your familiar scent sets the stagnant air aglow. The warmth of your perfume cradles his senses when you loom beside him. Your hand rises to his shoulder, fingers fidgeting with the swathe of curls at the nape of his neck. His wide palm smooths over your hip — softly calloused against the satiny fabric. 

You smile softly down at him. “So I got all pretty for nothin’?” you tease with a scrunched nose.

“Well, you got all pretty for me, actually,” Carmy corrects.

His pink lips curl in a faint smirk. Your grin widens tenfold. The subtle act of possessiveness, coupled with the strong hand on your waist, makes your chest sparkle. 

“Yeah, I did,” you hum proudly, bending at the waist to press a chaste kiss to his mouth. He tastes fleetingly of nicotine and sweet plum wine — a maddening concoction.

You rise to full height again. Carmy pats your hip twice before his fingers fall away. He turns back to his desk, and you feel half-invisible again. It’s hardly his fault, though. There was something deeply intense about his stone-blue eyes. You feel strangely held when he looks at you, left inevitably mourning every time he turns away.

His pen darts across the gridded page in chicken scratch you can’t make out, worsened by his wrist smudging the ink. Your arms wrap loosely around his neck. You bury your nose in his chestnut curls and inhale the familiar scent of grill smoke and cedarwood. 

“You know I don’t care actually about going out, right?” you mumble there.

Carmy hums, half-distracted. “Mhm.”

“Just wanna spend time with you… Don’t care what we’re doing…”

You press a kiss to his temple. He leans instinctively into your touch. “Well, I’ll make you the best damn PB&J Chicago’s ever seen when we get back home, alright?” he muses with a quiet smile. “How’s that sound?”

“I’m holding you to that, Bear,” you say, grinning into his curls.

“I’m countin’ on it.” Carmy chuckles and lifts his free hand to squeeze your wrist. His touch slips away soon after when he turns back to his work. 

Quiet returns, heavy and deafening, filled only by the distant clanging of pots from stragglers in the kitchen. It makes you strikingly aware of yourself — of the space you’re filling in this tiny office, and the distracting weight of your arms around his neck. Feeling more like a burden, you clear your throat and pull away.

“I’m, uh— I’m gonna see if Richie left yet. Maybe he’ll let me bum a smoke or something.”

Carmy mourns your warmth the second you’re gone. He spins in his swivel chair to face you, laughing to cover up his ache. “What happened to us spending time together?”

He knows how you think. You think he gets so involved in his work that he doesn’t spare you a single thought. But really, he’s so strongly devoted to you that it feels like the emotion could rip him open from the inside.

You squint. “Watching you sign a bunch of paperwork while you pretend I’m not here is not spending time together,” you argue, laughing despite yourself.

“Don’t go. C’mon,” Carmy pleads, very distantly begging. He tilts his head and blinks at you with wide, pleading eyes. “Come sit,” he tells you.

“Sit where?” you scoff.

“In my lap.”

“I’ll squish you,” you insist, giggling.

“Shut up and sit down,” he commands, still playful but leaving little room for argument. His wide palms smooth slowly up and down his denim-clad thighs. Your heart lurches into your throat.

You walk the short distance to him with a huff of feigned annoyance, dress swishing around your knees. Carmy pushes away from his desk to give you space to sit. You take a seat on his lap, just like he asked you to, but he stops you with a pair of strong hands grasping your hips.

“Not like that,” he murmurs.

Your brows furrow in response. “What do you mean?”

“On my thigh,” Carmy corrects, swatting playfully at your clothed hip. “C’mon. Sit right.”

You rise slowly, with a hesitant squint in your eyes. “What are you playing at, Bear?” you wonder lowly, legs spread slightly to welcome his thigh between them.

Carmy bounces his shoulder in a lazy shrug. His tattooed hands creep up the hem of your dress to urge you down onto his lap — the proper way. “You’re the one always sayin’ I’m too busy for you, right?” he responds, hardly expecting a real answer, as he helps you straddle one of his thighs.

The angle is awkward. The old chair leaves little room for the both of you. You’re forced to keep one leg on the ground while the other bends at the knee between his legs. You hold tight to his shoulders, trusting him to keep you steady. Your dress bunches at your hips in the meanwhile. Carmy raises his thigh until it’s flush against your clothed cunt. 

Your breath catches, and he smirks.

“So… You’re gonna cum on my thigh,” he continues casually. “…And after that, we’ll go home, I’ll fuck you like you need, and then I’ll run you a bath… How’s that sound?”

Your stomach swirls with a familiar warmth — which you can feel pooling in your panties now. “What about the PB&J?” you joke in a quiet voice that trembles only slightly.

Carmy scoffs a faint laugh. “After the bath.”

“What about in the bath?”

“Whatever you want,” he assures with a smile. “You just gotta ride me first.”

The lighthearted air turns bone-crushingly sensual in a flicker of a moment. His light eyes pierce you mercilessly, peering into the depths of your soul. You melt for him, going uncharacteristically soft and subservient, just how he likes.

Carmy helps you with a few passes over his thigh. You’re obviously unsure, and he can tell by your hesitant movements. His free hand squeezes your hip, urging you up his leg and down again, until you find your own rhythm. Then he turns back to his work and tries to focus. The soft sound of your breathy moans entwines with the scribbling of his pen.

You rock your hips in measured thrusts, trying to find the proper pace. The delicate fabric of your panties ruts along the rough denim of his jeans — catching your clit perfectly when you buck your hips just right. Lightning strikes down your spine, then. Both alleviating the ache between your thighs and creating a new one all at once. 

Your breath hitches. Pitiful whimpers sound in your throat instead. You bury them all in Carmy’s neck as you hide your face in his shoulder, with your warm cheek pressed to his ear and your fingers balling his shirt in your fists.

There was something foreignly erotic about all this. Being in Carmy’s office, the door unlocked, with Syd and Richie meandering elsewhere in the kitchen. The fear of being caught made your movements quick. Careless. Wild. 

And there was something about Carmy, too. The way he’s got you getting yourself off, with little help from the boy himself, while he busies himself with paperwork. You can hear him scribbling away still, flitting through papers with the hand not holding you. All while you hump his thigh, so desperate for attention. It’s pathetic. And something about it made you feel good.

Your pretty whimpers turn into deeper, breathier moans. Carmy smiles to himself. He can feel the warmth of your cunt despite the layers between you. It makes him wonder if you’ve left a stain on the denim. He prays you’ve left a stain on the denim — wants the mark of your honey stamped there forever.

“You close?” he murmurs when he notices your legs starting to tremble.

You bury a whine in his neck. “Fuck, Bear—”

“Hey,” he hums, pulling away from his paperwork for the first time in several minutes to look at you. 

His long fingers rise from your hip and curl into your hair. He tugs softly at the strands to urge your head back so he can admire his work. Your eyes are lidded and glassy, your lips swollen and parted — already fucked-out, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“I asked if you were close,” he repeats, unsmiling.

“Yes,” you manage through a whimper.

His grip on your hair slackens. His touch returns to your hip, encouraging your rapid movements. His pink lips quirk in the faintest hint of a smile. “Good,” he praises. “Good girl. Keep going.”

You bury your face in his neck again, lips curling around your teeth to stifle the moans swelling there. Your hips lose their rhythm as the threat of your orgasm grows. Your clit pounds like a second heartbeat. You briefly wonder if Carmy can feel it, and the thought alone sends you reeling.

“Carmy,” you keen, voice wavering. “I’m gonna cum.”

You feel him nod against you. He licks his lips and turns his head. His nose squishes your temple; his wet mouth brushes your ear. 

“Do it, then. C’mon,” he mumbles against you, coaxing you closer towards your pleasure — not because he’s a pro at the whole dirty-talking thing, but because he knows how much you like it. “Be a good girl and cum on my thigh. Come on.”

You last two more passes up and down his lap before you tense on top of him. Your hips still as you whimper into his shoulder, shuddering hard when your orgasm washes over you.

“Atta girl,” Carmy praises. “Keep cumming for me.”

He drops his pen and finally turns away from his work. He grips your hips with both hands and works you the rest of the way through your orgasm. You let him, for a few agonizing moments, until your high fades and leaves you achingly sensitive.

You inhale sharply through your nose and reach suddenly for his wrists. “No more,” you plead, then exhale a breathy chuckle.

When you part from his neck, Carmy ducks his head to catch your averted gaze. His wide eyes dart over your pleasure-stricken features. “You good?” he wonders. His words have lost any hint of sensuality. He’s always serious about checking in on you.

You nod and swallow hard. “’M good,” you promise, then freeze when your knee nudges his half-hard cock. “Are you good?” you parrot.

Carmy scoffs a breathy chuckle. “I’m almost done here— go bum a smoke from Richie, alright? I’ll out in a second.” 

He kisses you softly. A chaste kiss that’s perhaps too innocuous for such a honeyed moment. You rise on tired legs, and he swats playfully at your side. “How’s that for spending time together, huh?” he calls over his shoulder as you wrench open the office door.

“You’re an idiot, Bear.”

[ponderingmoonlight]

(y/n) gifting Geto sweets against the bad taste of curses

Pairing: Geto x reader

Word Count: 1,1k

Synopsis: Being used to the fact that nobody seems to care about how awful curses taste, Suguru Geto is absolutely blown away when you start noticing and bringing him candy after each and every mission.

Warnings: (y/n) has a really bubbly personality in this, pure fluff and no Geto going berserk

Thank you anon for your cute request 🤍

„Oh, there you are! I searched everywhere for you!”, you shout cheerfully, your steps hollering down the dark alley.

Suguru would recognize that oh so sweet voice out of a million, his heartbeat picking up in an instant. It’s you. You’re really here.

“What are you doing here, (y/n)?”, he questions softly.

“Well, I don’t know. I had to steal myself away since Yaga-sensei strictly forbid me to run after you again while you’re on a mission. He said something about getting hurt or killed…But that doesn’t stop me! I brought you something salty to eat!”, you announce proudly, stretching out your hand with a little package inside it.

“Did you really come all the way here just to give me that? You don’t have to gift me something to eat. And on top, you don’t need to get yourself in danger for something unimportant like that.”

“Oh, but it’s not unimportant! After all, swallowing those curses doesn’t taste good, right?”

His gaze meets yours. Suguru never talked with anyone about the breath-taking disgusting taste these things left in his mouth for hours, how it takes all his strength to not throw them back up in an instant. After all, no one ever asked him about this. It seems like it has always been enough that he was able to absorb them for everyone else.

“Why would you think that?”

But how…how on earth do you know? Even though Suguru talks with you a lot about everything and everyone, he never talked about this with you. Hell, not even with Satoru.

“That face you make afterwards, scrunching your eyes just the tiniest bit while pressing your lips together. And I mean, what would curses taste like? Certainly not like sugar and candy, right? And I guess it’s like garlic: you’ll have the taste in your mouth for hours! But at least garlic tastes good when used right. Man, I really want some garlic noodles right now… Are you in the mood to grab something to eat? I know you’re quite busy, but-”

Suguru can’t help but stare at you, the foul taste left on his tongue pushed into the background. You with your bubbly personality made of pure gold. You, who came all the way here just to give him something to eat. You, the only person walking on this earth who ever took the time to think about how it must feel to swallow a curse.

Just you.

“It’s like eating a vomit-soaked rag. That’s what they taste like.”

Your doe eyes dart towards him, reflecting nothing but compassion. Before he is able to think straight you’re standing right in front of him, hand pressing the little package into his much larger one.

“No one should have to taste something like this on a regular basis. But maybe…Oh, I have an idea! Let’s make a pact.”

“A pact?”, he repeats in disbelief.

What are you up to? And why is your smile suddenly as bright as the sun?

“A pact! I promise to always have something to eat for you when you tell me about your missions in exchange!”, you announce proudly.

“This doesn’t seem fair to me at all. You don’t have to follow after me just to give me something nice to eat.”

It seems so crazy, almost unbelievable to him that another human being would be willing to sacrifice its precious time for him. Don’t you understand that this promise would mean traveling after him every day and night multiple times? Don’t you understand that you are too good for that? Especially you, the ray of sunshine at Jujutsu High. You, the girl everyone talks about, the girl that even Nanami secretly adores. Why would someone like you take special care of him?

“What isn’t fair is that you have to go through something like this every single time. I really admire you, Suguru. Just the smell of something disgusting makes me gag. Just thinking about eating something that tastes so horrible multiple times a day…You really are a hero! And every hero deserves some sweets! Oh wait…Are you actually into sweets? I can bring you something salty as well.”

“Satoru prefers sweets-“

“But I’m not asking about Satoru”, you interrupt him immediately.

“I’m asking about you.”

He isn’t able to respond. No, Suguru is absolutely captivated by your kind smile and the way you still hold onto his hand, the package in his palm feeling sweaty just by one look into your innocent eyes.

You…you really noticed. And not only that, you really do care about him.

“Go ahead, take a bite! I wonder what you think. I was never really a fan of salty snacks, but these ones are really good”, you explain all too excited.

Hesitantly, he rips open the package and allows himself to get a taste. Oh, this feels like heaven on earth, the saltiness of what seems like crackers hunting away the stinging taste of vomit in his mouth. But what intrigues him the most is you. How you stand in front of him, swaying back and forth in excitement while your eyes follow every move of his mouth, literally glowing in joy.

“These are really good”, he finally confesses.

“Thank you, (y/n). Now everything just tastes good.”

And so it did every following mission. Instead of feeling disgusted by only the sight of a curse, Suguru somehow feel…excitement. Excitement because swallowing a curse means meeting you afterwards. Excitement because he’ll get to taste a new sort of candy or sweets almost every single day. Excitement because slowly but surely, he fell head over heels for your striking sight.

“Those are a speciality around here! I heard some of the others talk about that shop yesterday and thought you might want to try it as well.”

The candy melts on his tongue right away, making him wonder what you taste like while your pretty mouth happily keeps on telling him everything about that shop. It is so easy to get lost in your sight, lost in your talking, last in your personality.

“(y/n).”

He takes a step forward, putting the other piece of candy you handed him over in his pocket. Your eyes widen in the most delicate way, cheeks turning rosy just by one glimpse into the chocolate brown ocean of his eyes.

You always loved the taste of sweets on your tongue, how your nerves began to tingle just the slightest bit. But in this moment, you realized that tasting Suguru Geto was way better than that. He wraps his arms around you gently, pressing his lips against yours ever so slightly. You feel like fainting, flying, giggling. What a precious man he is, how long you imagined how it must feel to kiss your secret crush. But oh, the reality is so much better.

“I love you more than any candy on this planet.”

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @itsmonicabc

[weakformingyu]

We can't be friends | H.H.

Pairing: Hyunjin x reader

Genre: ANGST, smut

Part 2: Wait for your love

Summary: you have been in love with your best friend for a long time. On a night where you were supposed to comfort him after a break up, things heat up and he finally looks at you the way you wanted.

Words count: 2,957

THIS WORK IS FOR +18 AUDIENCES ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: biting, protected piv, hickeys, blowjob, hair pulling, cursing(I think that's all)

A/N: I wanted to write something to "we can't be friends" by ariana grande, I was thinking so hard about what to write and this idea came to me so suddenly and I knew I had to write it.

Hwang Hyunjin was everything you ever dreamt about. You didn’t realize that right when you met him in your first year of college, to you he was just a friend until he wasn’t anymore. You started noticing every little thing about him, how his eyes turn into crescents when he smiles, the face he makes when he eats something good, what are his favorite drinks and snacks. Suddenly everything about Hyunjin sounded so interesting that you didn’t even realize you were in love. You didn’t realize how happy you got every time he sent you a message, how touched you felt when he went to pick you up at work because it was raining and you forgot your umbrella, how calm you felt when you were with him, watching a movie and chilling.

The moment you realized you were in love, you knew you couldn’t be best friends anymore but you liked to pretend. Hyunjin never even looked at you twice so your mind never went to dark places, wondering what it would be like to tell him how you feel but even though that was the case, he didn't make it easy for you to stop liking him.

He would bring you snacks and medicine when you were on your period, when you felt down about anything he would be there to cheer you up and you could tell him just about anything, you knew he wouldn’t judge you — well, almost anything. Could he ever understand you about this, though? How could you fall in love with your best friend?

When he got his first girlfriend it was a shock to you, the pain in your chest felt like it would burn you whole, but you kept fighting with your heart, telling yourself that it wouldn’t do you any good for him to know about your feelings. His relationship didn’t last long but it also wasn’t the last you heard about a relationship of his and you thought you were okay with it. That is, until he met his last girlfriend. Hyunjin was head over heels for her and that killed you time and time again. Your heart broke more and more every time he talked about her, every time you slept over and heard him calling her late at night, telling her how much he loved her. A month went by, then three months, then a year.

Of course you didn’t want them to break up because you knew he would suffer and that was the last thing you wanted, even if in that case you would be the one hurting. You tried to date other people, but you always felt it was wrong because deep inside you didn’t want to get over him, not when you were still hopeful that one day he would look at you.

It was late at night when Hyunjin called you, it was clear in his voice that something was not right.

“Can you come over?” He asks, voice hoarse and tired.

“Give me ten minutes”, you tell him, jumping out of bed. You were already in your pjs, ready to sleep and no one other than Hyunjin could make you go out this time of the night.

You don't even change your shirt, putting on sweatpants and brushing your hair quickly before grabbing your keys and your coat, walking to the door. The chill air of the night blows your hair, messing everything up and making your face grow cold. Winter has been killing you for a while now, you have been avoiding coming to the cold outside since you started to work from home.

You get into your car, turning on the heater, putting on some light music so you can stay calm and not freak out about what happened to your best friend.

You don’t even knock when you get to his apartment, pressing the password to the door lock and entering the house. A strong smell of liquor comes straight to your nose, stopping you in your tracks. There are so many soju bottles on the floor that you can’t even count and you hear the sound of the shower, so you can only conclude that Hyunjin is taking a bath.

Sighing and taking your coat, you throw it on the table, going to the kitchen to find a plastic bag and starting to collect the trash around the living room. What the hell happened? Hyunjin is usually pretty neat, it’s rare to see his house this messy.

You hear the sound coming from the bathroom disappear while you wash the dishes, drying your hands on a towel and leaning against the kitchen counter, waiting for Hyunjin to show up.

He looks awful, clean but horrible. He has eye bags under his eyes and seems tired like he hasn't slept in days.

“What happened?” You ask him, walking to him to take a closer look.

Hyunjin pouts, looking at you. You swear he’s almost crying.

“Jisoo broke up with me”, he says, running his hand through his hair.

“She did what?” You scowl, eyes widening and he sighs. “What happened? This came out of nowhere”

“I don’t know, she’s been acting weird lately and she didn’t want me to pick her up at work anymore so I asked about it and she felt offended that I was being suspicious of her, but I was not”, he whines, “I was just asking if there was something wrong”

“When did it happen? Are you drunk right now?” You recall the amount of empty bottles of alcohol you found when you arrived.

“She ended it yesterday, I thought she was gonna come around”, he cries out, “but she even blocked me on social media”

Hyunjin turns around, walking to the sofa and sitting, supporting his elbows on his thighs while he covers his face.

“I'm not drunk, I ran out of booze a few hours ago and just couldn't get myself to go buy more”, he sighs, “I have no energy”

You feel that pain in your chest, you never wanted to see him suffering like this.

“Look, you have today to cry and tomorrow you're gonna forget about her, okay?”, you groan, the last thing you want is to comfort the guy you like because someone else broke his heart. “You have me, you’re gonna be fine” You walk to him, sitting by his side and patting his back. Hyunjin sighs, nodding begrudgingly.

“Thank you for coming”, he says, leaning down and putting his head on your shoulder. “I know it's late”

“Don’t worry about it”, you assure him, “I'm always here for you”

Hyunjin nods, looking up at you before you glance down at him, his dark eyes watching you like he can see right through you, all your emotions. Suddenly the atmosphere becomes strange, you both fall into silence and you feel something deep inside you, something you don't think you have ever felt before as he glances to your mouth and then your lips are on his.

For a few seconds you can't fully understand what's happening, are you two really kissing? And is he reciprocating? Hyunjin’s lips are just like you thought it would be, soft and sweet. Are you a horrible person for doing this when he just broke up with his girlfriend? His hands move to cup your face, deepening the kiss but yours go straight to his chest, pushing him away.

“We shouldn't do this”, you shake your head, trying to get back to your senses. “This isn't right”

Hyunjin scowls.

“It's fine, I want it”, he tries kissing you again but you stop him again.

“You were drinking earlier, you are not thinking straight”, you try keeping your cool.

“I'm sober now”, he insists, “please, y/n”, he pleads, making your heart melt.

It's not like you don't want to have him, you really do.

“You won't regret it later?” You ask, biting on your bottom lip and when he shakes his head, you turn off the side of your brain that makes good decisions, kissing him again.

You grab his face, deepening the kiss, delighting yourself on his plump lips. His long hair falls around your fingers, tickling your skin and the brush of his tongue on yours makes you sigh. Hyunjin bites on your bottom lip, pulling it lightly while his hands slide down to your hips, pressing his fingers with such force you think it might cause a bruise.

He kisses you again, hungrily, leaning over and making you fall back on the sofa as he hovers over your body. You feel tiny beneath him, like he holds all the power in the world and you’re just there ready to make all his wishes come true.

As he trails kisses down your neck, you sigh and slide your hands to the hem of his shirt, pulling it off of him and throwing it somewhere in the room. You kiss him again, eagerly, not capable of staying away for too long as his hands slide down your shirt grabbing at your breasts, making you let out a moan. Your hands go down his abs, sliding inside his pants, pressing your fingers around his hard cock. You start massaging it up and down and Hyunjin bites on your bottom lip, pulling it slightly just enough for you to feel a slight pain.

He slips his hand down your bra, kneading at your breasts and pinching on your nipples.

“Fuck”, you murmur, not able to hold up anymore as you pull your on shirt off to give him the view of your chest that's bare in a few seconds since you work fast to undo your bra.

He watches you for a moment, mesmerized by your beauty. You feel your cheeks grow hot, trying to cover yourself but he blocks your movements, holding your arms above your head. Hyunjin kisses your neck, leaving a trail of bites that are going to cause you to use turtlenecks for a while but you are not complaining, he trails down your collarbone till your breasts so he can suck on your nipples, rubbing his hard cock against your tight while he enjoys his time at your chest.

You can't hold yourself back anymore, so you put your hands on his chest, pushing him away enough for him to sit down. You throw one leg over him, sitting on his lap, brushing your core against his hard cock, moaning to the delicious pressure. You kiss him again, rubbing yourself against him a few times, his hands go straight to your hip forcing you down.

You pull away when you can't breathe anymore, trailing kisses down his jaw and neck, giving him a bite right on top of his collarbone, not stopping until he hisses.

“You're going to leave a mark”, he groans, opening his eyes that were shut in pleasure, just to look at you, seeing the smirk you have on your lips.

“That's the point”, you say, finally detaching your lips from his skin, enjoying the view of it turning purple.

You get down from his lap, getting on your knees in between his legs, pulling his pants and underwear down to find his painfully hard cock, glistening with precum. You grab the base of his cock, pumping it a few times before you get close enough to lick the head, circling it with your tongue, listening to him moan while he grabs the sofa, knuckles turning with the strength he's using.

You hold one of his hands with yours bringing it to your head and letting it rest on your hair, as you look at him sharply, sucking up and down on his cock even more eagerly.

“Fuck”, he grabs a handful of your hair, pressing your head further down his cock, the head reaching the back of your throat, making tears escape your eyes. “You look so pretty gagging around me”, he murmurs, throwing his head back, groaning to the intense feeling of the orgasm approaching.

You feel his grip tighten on your hair and he cums a few seconds later, letting go of your hair and breathing heavily, trying to recompose himself. You stare at him from the floor, not sure if he's going to want to keep going, but he soon looks back at you stretching himself to the side of the sofa till he reaches the drawer in the rack, pulling a condom out of there.

“Do you want to-”, he begins to say.

“Yes”, you nod frantically not even letting him finish.

“Good”, he smiles, tearing the package and putting on the condom, his cock hardening again. “It's pretty difficult not to get hard again seeing you fucked out like that for me”, he teases. Your hair is disheveled, your lips are swollen and there are tears marks down your cheeks.

You smile sheepishly watching as Hyunjin offers you his hand, pulling you down to sit back on his lap. You grab his cock, teasing your entrance lightly, closing your eyes to the feeling. When you sink down you swear you can see stars, his cock is just perfect, the stretch feels so good you can't even begin to describe it. He's reaching places you didn't even know you wanted to be reached, the way he grabs your hips, pushing you down on him while he makes you grind makes the sensation a thousand times better. You can already barely breath when he kisses you again, bringing a hand to your hair and pulling it while he bites on your lips, you can feel him thrusting into you, faltering movements showing that he's almost reaching his second orgasm. He trails kisses down your neck, kissing the hill between your breasts and licking on your right nipple while he curses under his breath.

“I'm gonna cum”, he announces, detaching his mouth from your chest, glancing at you just to see you nod, murmuring ‘me too, I'm almost there’ over and over until a loud moan escapes your lips. Your legs tremble and you hug Hyunjin looking for some kind of support, he wraps his arms around you, fucking into you while he cums too.

You don't have any strength left to get up when you come down from your high, resting your head on his shoulder. Hyunjin gently picks you up, holding your legs around his hips while he carries you to his room, laying you down on his bed. He murmurs something but you're too groggy to understand him, falling into a deep slumber as soon as you feel his lips meeting your forehead.

It's already afternoon when you wake up, there's no one by your side though and you feel the pain of regret beginning to find its way to your chest. You could ignore it, you really could, if it wasn't for Hyunjin’s voice coming from outside the room. You dress up fast, walking to the door to hear what he's talking about and then you realize he's not alone.

“Do you have any idea of how much you hurt me?” You hear his voice.

“I'm sorry”, you hear Jisoo’s voice, “I know I went overboard this time but I wasn't thinking clearly”

You feel your stomach sinking in, your heart starts beating on your ears but you make a huge effort to keep listening to them.

“What do you want me to do about it now?” He asks, sighing.

“Let's get back together”, she suggests, “we can pretend we never even broke up in the first place”

You want to believe with all you have in you that he's gonna deny her, that he's going to think about you and tell her he's not interested anymore.

“Fine”, he says, “but I'll need some time to think”

You wish you could say you're surprised with his answer but you're not, it's not even sad, it's just pathetic. You really thought that he would really look at you this time, didn't you? That he would fall in love with you after one night together? That's embarrassing to say the least.

You scoff to yourself, walking around the room and collecting your things, you want to get the hell out of there and disappear from this world.

You hear the front door being closed and you know Hyunjin is gonna show up at any time now.

You're already ready to go when he opens the door, stopping on his tracks to look at you.

“I didn't know you were awake”, he says, sheepishly.

“I am”, you say walking past him in the direction of the front door.

“Y/N, about yesterday-”, he starts saying but is interrupted by you spinning around to look at him, trying to contain the tears that are threatening to escape your eyes.

“You're a fucking asshole”, you tell him, making him scowl.

“I- look, you don't understand”, he tries but you laugh, scoffing at him.

“What don't I understand? That you fucked me one night and went back to your girlfriend the next morning?”

“I wasn't on my right mind yesterday”

“Fuck you”, you feel your face hot with anger, “you said you wouldn't regret it”, you cry out as you run your hands through your hair, “I guess that's on me for really believing you”

“Let's not let this ruin our friendship okay? We can take some time apart to clear our heads but we are still best friends, y/n”

“We can't be friends”, you inform him, “I have known that for a long time now but I liked to pretend”, you sigh, waiting for him to say something, anything that could make you stay, but Hyunjin just stares at you in shock and watches as you leave him.

[hwan-g]

( 𝑻𝑬𝑬𝑻𝑯 ) ୧ ⠁

ೀㅤ۪ pairing. biker/drug dealer! chris x fem! reader : genre. age gap, dark romance, angst, smut : warnings. read at your own risk — mdni ! use of pet names, smoking, explicit sexual content, possessiveness, obsession, severe anger issues, violence, flawed characters that make mistakes : word count. 10.1k

ೀㅤ۪ synopsis. he was born with a gun in his hand, a ticking time bomb in his head. it’s been counting down since, the brain has festered into a landmine, a battlefield. no. peace is a foreign word. reserved only for you.

PROLOGUE.

You cannot begin telling this story if you don’t first punch your own mouth. His gun, safety off, shiny and awful in the dead of night, the barrel of it pointing at your temple, a patient irony. It’s three in the morning and the red bleeding is sweet, oh so sweet.

There’s no love without violence, sweetheart, and did you know? He loves you so much, he’ll kill you. He loves you so much, you’re calling for help. Of course, it cannot be your voice, and if he gives you another chance, you’ll say everything differently this time around like—this bed is where he fucked me slow and rough, I think he was trying to bury some part of himself in me, and here, you see, the sheets smell just like his cigarettes, and this, here, is where he brushed my hair, just like this, so careful, but never mind the cracks in the mirror, the shattering is always the same, it has nothing to do with me, everything to do with him.

You hear his voice in your head all the time, haunting, your dutiful ghost; he’s there when you sleep, he’s there when you wake up, a nightmare concealed as a daydream, and you want him to do his worst, you want it to hurt, to scar, to be a permanent mark, because it’d mean you’d loved him; that love has been here and it was ugly and terrifying, and you survived it, even if you could never survive him.

Upstairs, the bed is unmade, stained with wine and your climax. Chris is gentle in all the ways he is not, which is to say he kisses you with teeth, he holds you with fists. You saw him on a black motorcycle once, an impressionable girl in a dark place, lost, searching for purpose, and he looked like a knight in shining armor, he looked like hell and heaven combined, a savior and captor, and you’d wished to crawl inside, to make a home out of him. You’d smiled and waited, you've always waited, you always will.

When he came, he was so cruel, he burned brighter than fire—you believed in him; after all, how can a man be so consumed by flame and not put his own hands around his neck, not succumb to his charcoal painted flesh? You were a fool, and he saw it, and you paid the price for it. He wants to keep you forever now, he’s never going to let you go, do you understand that? Why, why, why did you go ahead and do that?

For what? A scrap of metal heart and a ribcage, bone and muscle?

What about your own heart?

What about the eternal winter residing when he's not there?

ACT ONE: before.

He smiles and the world expands. His face blooms into a thousand different shades; the pink of his mouth curving, the red of his cheeks rounding, the dark of his brow straightening. A stop motion picture, the beginning of autumn, the turn of the leaves, the crisp air replacing warm winds.

His fingers weave through yours, interlocking, thumb running down index, mouth a breath over yours, so close he could graze your lips if he wanted to. You look between you, noses touching, then back to brown so deep you imagine raw honey gliding, real amber in the face of the sun.

Chris. You whisper his name in your head. It sounds like a secret. Your best kept one. Chris, Chris, Chris . . .

There’s blood on his shirt underneath the leather jacket. There’s a loaded gun on his belt strap, a knife tucked in his boot, a razor engraved on the ring he wears, and he’s not so careful with it, and you don’t think you want him to be. You assume it’s normal to want this—if his blood mixes with yours, well, isn’t that enough to take you with him? Isn’t that almost a wedding ceremony, isn’t that almost a declaration of war?

Do you think I’m crazy, you think to yourself. Do you think I’m crazy, would you want me if I am, would you want me, do you want me? You don’t dare say it out loud, but he’s staring at you as if he could eat your face raw—a demon, a demon—and shove the rest of you in the deep freezer, so you decide to bite him instead. You get on your tippy toes and nuzzle into his neck, biting the soft flesh underneath his earlobe.

He doesn’t exclaim, not a hiss, not a gasp, not even the slightest of inhales. He withstands the pain you inflict him, and you feel his desire digging into the inside of your thigh. His arms reach out around you, pulling you to him in that all-encompassing way, and you’re left to witness what can only be the slow consumption of your beating heart. His bike groans under the sudden weight, but he’s got you. You don’t think, then, of what that entails.

“(Y/N).”

The night sky comes into focus, all dark indigo, starless, and the streetlights flicker bright, sounding the late hour. The light never seems to go anywhere near you two, it refuses, it hesitates, and back then you found it all so mysterious and exciting, ignoring the warning bells, swallowing down the instinct of danger, danger, danger.

“Yes?”

Your eyes fall shut at having his rough palm grabbing hold of your face, thumb tilting your head upwards to meet his sizzling gaze. You hold onto his wrist for support, your body floating, mourning the loss of his body heat against the biting cold. He notices this, and moves to shrug off his huge jacket, wearing it over your shoulders in one swift move.

“What will I do with you?” It’s a plea. A threat. Both.

Chris looks down at you, and the earth shakes to its core. He looks down at you, and you don’t want to be alone anymore. You want this, this, this, every day, all the time, forever. You wish to wake up in bed next to him and know he’s yours, wake up and not wish for some other dream so you can find him again. To be awake and want to be awake.

His big hands caress your face, sink into your hair. He stares at you intently, as if he’s holding back from saying whatever’s turning over and over in his head. It can switch so fast, that look, faster than you can blink, a clipped temper, a quick anger. 

You’ve only seen it once, and you’d been quickly turned away. He’s got people watching everywhere, he’s been haunted by darkness and shadows long before you served him that drink in The Bloody Muse. You almost forget about returning to your shift, time slipping away, responsibilities fading whenever you’re near him.

Seungmin will be missing you, Felix will be looking for his good luck charm before he goes on stage. Midnight means you return from dreamland. Still, you have a couple of minutes left. Enough to hear the gunshot, enough to panic and let out a scream and have Chris slap a hand over your mouth, willing you with his gaze to calm the fuck down.

You breathe hard, stiff with fear. He appears perfectly composed, relaxed even. It’s then you realize who he is and what he does, and how this is probably his or his club’s doing. There’s misdirected anger in you ricocheting on all corners. You want to bite his fingers, you want to demand an explanation. You work here, dammit, and he’s kept his bullets away from this place so far, for what you thought was your sake.

Chris was a handsome hypocrite, a skilled liar.

“It’s not what you think,” he says simply, removing his palm from your mouth, shaking his wrist off. “Don’t overreact.”

All of his previous warmth disappeared, instead, the cold, menacing man you know very little of and have never dealt with taking its place. You understand he has to be this way, but you hate that he has to act like this with you too. Because of your reaction. Because you couldn’t keep your cool.

Silly girl.

“What is it, then?” A naive question, so many untrue answers he could give you.

He passes a finger over the cut on your cheek. The cut he gave you. You lean into his touch, desperate for anything, hungry, starving, even. You don’t want him to leave, but he won’t stay. You hate, hate, fucking hate this part.

“Something that needed to be taken care of,” he chooses the words carefully, you can tell, and you decide that, if he wants you to stay in the dark, you will. You have to.

You love him.

“Someone,” you correct, quietly.

Chris smiles, mouth curving, and his hand moves to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is tender, affectionate. Something inside you cracks and caves, it melts. You would withstand too, you think then. You would deal with anything, put up with everything, for that single touch. For that one single look.

“Someone,” he echoes, his own voice smooth blue velvet, an overture. “You should get inside.”

A sharp pang of bitterness in your chest. “I should?” Because I questioned you?

He drops his hand, and brings his arms over his broad chest, crossing them there. Closed off and done for the night. You unconsciously take a step back, hurt from the sudden change, whiplashed and upset.

“If you don’t want to be late,” he states matter-of-factly, but he says it in this kind of open tone, a mere suggestion rather than a complete dismissal. Yes. “Don’t look at me with those damned eyes, sweetheart, what can I do against them?”

You wipe at your cheeks, and try to fix the mess, try to smooth over, to make right again. “I’m not, I’m sorry.”

“Come here.” A command. 

You go like a kicked puppy, your leash short, your loyalty unshaken, despite the scolding. He reaches out and slams you to his chest, a hand pressing the back of your head there, and you inhale him, all of him, memorizing his scent, trying to hold on to whatever parts of him you can in case he decides to never come back for you again. It’s pathetic and it’s pitiful, but this is what you know. This is all you know.

“You’re my girl, you know that?” He mumbles in your hair, his breath hot on your scalp. You lean into him, wrapping your arms around him, and almost cry yourself dry from the prospect of ever losing him. 

You’d die. You’d die, it’s entirely unthinkable. It’s the worst pain imaginable. 

“You’re my girl, baby. I’d never let anything happen to you. Do you believe me?”

You nod your head yes. He squeezes you against him tighter. You feel so safe, then, the safest you ever have. Of course you believe him. You’d believe his every word, you’d follow him into anything, blindly, willingly. You want to please him. To make him happy.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, suddenly and pulls you back to look at him. His eyes are manic, black. “I need your words, (Y/N). Do you believe me?”

“Yes. Yes,” you yelp, your mouth falling open from the sting.

In your stomach, something lights on fire. You rub your legs together, trying to relieve it. He glances down between you, curses. 

You started it. 

The descend. 

It was your fault. 

He’d never touched you so savagely before that night, he’d never shown the same need you had. That he could want you the same way you do. . .You felt so giddy you could squeal, so happy you would gladly reduce yourself to schoolgirl-and-her-stupid-little-fantasies.

“Is this fucking getting you wet?” And he pulls harder, tilting your head all the way. His tongue comes out to lick from the base of your neck all the way up to your lips. You’re on fire, you’re on fire! You moan hoarsely and try to keep your footing. “You like me being rough with you, sweetheart?”

You’re too embarrassed to respond. So, you guide his hand under your skirt. Chris curses again, more lewdly this time, nasty things, words you’ve never heard him say before. Oh, this fucking cunt, fuck me . . . So goddamn wet, baby girl, I bet it tastes so sweet. Will you let me? Will you let me have a taste right here?

“I— I have to go back, I’m—” but his fingers are already dipping into your underwear, his palm cupping your burning sex.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growls into your ear. “You hear me?”

You jump, and look around, paranoid. He grabs your face and forces your eyes back on him. He’s got that crazed look again, the one that lets you know he’ll stop at nothing to have this. Out here, in the open. And he’ll fucking make it worth it. You succumb, too flushed, too bothered, unbecoming in his arms, as he backtracks you into the wall next to the exit door, and gets on his knees, tugging your undergarments down with both hands, hooking your leg over his shoulder.

Your fingers dig into his hair, dark eyes staring up at you. In your mercy, kneeling in front of you. Do you love me? Is this you, saying it? Is this your way of showing it? You caress the soft strands, staring back, overwhelmed. The beginning of the end for you. You’ll never escape him after this. He’d never accept it. You’d never survive it.

When his face gets lost in between your legs, you almost collapse, your entire body shaking with the forceful need to come. He licks and laps and sucks your clit into his mouth, and it’s too much, it’s fucking unbearable, it’s incredible, it’s so much, it’s everything, you want more, you want him to stop, more more more, oh my God, please, please—you’re being so loud there’s no way they haven’t heard that, that Seungmin hasn’t, he’s really only around the corner, and what about everyone else, oh God, oh God, you’re close, you’re so fucking close, if he could just—oh, fuck yes, fuck yes . . .

Chris pulls away, his lower face glistening with your juices. You whine at the loss of contact, your pussy clenching around nothing, aching. 

“Don’t fucking come,” and he’s getting up, he’s unzipping his pants, and you’re eager to help, you’re eager to reach inside and grab him, free him. “I have to get inside you, baby.” 

His cock is standing rock hard, angry. He wraps one hand around your neck, and the other slides over his length once, twice, you’re so entranced you can’t look away; he’s so big, he’s so erect, and you want him so fucking much, you’d do anything right then, you’d be anything.

He turns you around, and you barely have time to get a good grip on the wall, before he’s entering you with one long, violent thrust. You scream out, pressing your temple on the cool brick, allowing him to take whatever he needs. His fingers squeeze around your neck, tighter and tighter still, until all you see is stars, until all you feel is him slamming into you, his hot body over yours, your mixed moans of pleasure.

I could come to this image forever . . . Look at this fucking ass, you beautiful fucking girl, I never want to stop . . . fucking tear you apart, lay inside you . . . Taking cock so well, made for me, made for me, made for this . . .

His movements turned sloppy and primal, reaching the end, and you, forever following him, forever after him. He was no more than beast, pistoling into you with vigor, all animal, your sides bruised from the way he was holding onto you, but you loved it, you wished he’d never stop, exploding into a million pieces, coming apart under him in vibrant streaks of color and tears. His head dropped on your lower back, whispering there she is, there you go, sweetheart, there you are, my baby, as he gave one, two, three final thrusts, before reaching down and removing himself from your soaking cunt, flipping you around, and forcing you on your knees, his cock in his hand, on the verge of climax.

You open your mouth wide, and he shoves in, fucking into it no more than three seconds before you feel his cum hit the back of your throat, warm and salty. 

“You fucking vex me, woman. Look at the sight of you.”

You breathe through your nose slowly, as he grabs your face and makes sure you swallow, fingers rough, before pulling out at once, tucking his softening length back in his jeans, and lifting you up by the waist.

He fixes your skirt over your ass, and smoothes over the edges, making sure no indecent part of you shows. When you catch his eye, he winks at you. You bubble over like a soda can, spilling everywhere, and he chuckles low and raspy, before reaching for your hand and pulling you flush against him, trailing kisses on your shoulder, your knuckles, your cheeks, your brow.

This is the Chris that looks at you and sees you. The one you love, the one you miss the most when he’s gone. This Chris comes out only when you’re alone, when he’s forgotten what else there is, what he has to do after you go back to the club. For now, he loves you, no violence, no hunger.

You almost weep at the sight of him.

“I’ll talk to your boss,” he murmurs, pecking your lips over and over.

You giggle, and he twirls you once, your arms extending as you try to go towards the door. He pulls you back in at the last minute, handsome, glowing, smiling.

“I haven’t lied to you,” he says, and half of you doesn’t miss the solemn way in which he says it. “I won’t let anyone touch you. Ever.”

You pause for a split second, still remaining in the post bliss of your orgasm, but then you’re moving again, slipping from his grasp, heading back to your drinks and suggestive conversations.

“I wouldn’t want to be touched by anyone else, Chris,” you retort, blowing him a kiss, and disappearing through the big black door, letting it close behind you.

You don’t see the way you leave him standing there, how he closes his eyes and has to breathe through the loss of you; how he drags his feet to go pick up his jacket from the floor. How he inhales your sweet smell, and instantly wants you back, a corpse in his arms that can’t go nowhere.

The corruption began when you told him your name. It invaded his bloodstream and blackened his mind.

He’d rather kill you than have you walk away from him like that.

ACT TWO: in the midst.

Chris fucks you with the purpose of possessing you.

There’s not a minute of peace when you are with him, he envelops all senses, he erases all other thoughts, until all you know is him, his touch, his cock. Months into sharing a bedroom, and coming apart underneath him every night, he’s never once mentioned that incident, the first one.

He’s never apologized for how he treated you, never brought it up. But he’s never once treated you the same since. Now that you live together, he gets to call all the shots, know your exact whereabouts, control what you wear, what you eat, how you come, how many times—he’s fucked you in places you never thought possible. He’s fucked you in front of people, shamelessly; on the banister, in the pool, on the kitchen counter and the office. Against walls and on the hood of his car, parked in the garage, Changbin, the road captain, working on his bike not a few steps away.

No one ever said anything to you, tried anything. They didn’t have a death wish, or they respected Chris too much. His influence was a testimony to his abilities. No one questioned him, but everyone obeyed him. They treated you like one of their own, they protected you when their sergeant would leave the house.

Other things—the shitload of drugs hidden in every trinket, every crevice, places you’d never think to check, and the meticulous way they deliver said product, how the trucks come in the middle of night, motorcycles deconstructed, filled to the brim with cocaine and sent to wherever, distributed to whatever unfortunate person. Chris never touched the trucks, you never saw him near them.

That was Minho’s job.

You spent entire days in bed after the deliveries, fucking, improvising stories of hunters and angels falling in love, how the hunter is always attracted to the angel’s light, how the angel forgives the hunter for his nature, and willingly dies by his axe. Chris bathes you and washes your hair with lavender, then carries you over to the vanity and brushes the strands with such care, you think he’s always loved you, in every life. That, perhaps, he was born loving you, and that this was predetermined; inescapable, inevitable.

He doesn’t sleep. He spends hours making love to you, feeding you; he works for even longer, meetings with the president, meetings with the suppliers, mountains of paperwork that you see him burn afterwards in the fireplace downstairs. If he does close his eyes, it’s flitting, twenty minutes here, an hour there; after he comes down from the high of being buried inside you, after a shower, at night as he watches you sleep, you pretend to close your eyes and feel him get comfortable on your stomach, his lips kissing any spot of naked skin he can find. When he does drift off, you lift your head and observe a man such as Chris Bahng sleep, how he does it, so unaware and off guard, so unlike his usual self.

It’s endearing. You love him the most when you find him in those positions, so peaceful, and a part of you thinks, ashamed—at least no one is dying by his hand tonight. His soul is something you think about a lot, the wretched, poisoned thing, paying for his actions. You asked him once; what keeps him up, why is he so unable to fall asleep?

“Nightmares,” he mumbled against your neck, teasing the sensitive flesh there. “Every time I close my eyes . . . someone is waiting for me. It’s always different, but they always end up dead. Everyone I care about— you. When you’re in my dreams, I can’t stand it. I’m always the one holding the gun. You’re always falling, or— fucking . . . walking away from me. When I wake up, I always check if you’re next to me,” his hand travels to yours, interlocking your fingers. He avoids your gaze. “If you’re not, it’s . . . it gets hard to breathe. I think I’ve killed you, that I’ve finally fucking lost it and, and done it, and the walls close in around me . . . Christ, I sound fucking insane.”

It’s difficult for you to say anything after that, so you slowly make your descend at the foot of the bed, making sure to kiss every inch of him, to let him know you’re right there, that he’ll never lose you, that the day it’ll come to that you’d rather he does kill you, that he does make that decision for you, because you’d have clearly gone mad; you cannot see yourself beyond him, cannot see a future where he’s not there, even as a fixture, even as someone who’s loved you once, a very long time ago. A friend, a lover, it’s all the same, and it’s all him, and you’ll always get whatever version of him you can.

You know you sound crazy, and maybe you are, maybe you deserve each other in that way, but it’s irrelevant to this story. This is not for the faint of heart—loving someone like him does not come easy, it’s not one of those ridiculous words—fate or destiny—or anything simple like that; loving him is hard fucking work, it’s torment and agony, it’s excruciating, and it’s a choice you make every single day, because you need it to live. An addiction, perhaps, though you’ve never been an addict.

You know this is how it feels. The needle in the vein. The snow on your nose. The smoke in your lungs. The burning, the boiling. This is it. When you take his cock in your mouth, when you hear that broken gasp fall from his lips, the familiar groan, the guttural sounds from the back of his throat, and how he grabs the back of your head, forcing you down to the hilt of him; when you’re so full you might as well inhale him entirely, become part of his crotch, his most private part, the one he keeps to himself—you think this is what it’s like to wait on someone’s steps, a beggar, a desperate girl giving her heart on a silver platter for the one in the house, the one holding the reins.

Chris is kind and generous. He opens the door, he allows you to come inside. There’s light and warmth here, but there’s also shadows in the corners, there’s locked doors and no one else around. It’s a lonely house, but he’s right there, all you need, all you’ll ever need. He welcomes you with open arms.

You get lost in the labyrinth of him.

“What the fuck was I doing before you, sweetheart? Who was I, who was I without this fucking mouth, fucking hell, baby . . .”

It’s a savage act, some would call it cannibalism, but it’s only been known as love to you. Your insides are aflame, roasting a pretty crackling orange, when he finally comes on your tongue, his hips lifting, eyes shut tight, your head in his big hands, keeping you there, making sure you’re swallowing every last drop. You do. You do. You‘re licking circles around the shiny, swollen tip one moment, and he’s got you bouncing on it the next, manhandling your ass, facing you away from him, wrapping muscular arms around your waist, ravaging your back with his teeth, biting and soothing, putting out the forest fires himself, braving the danger.

A devouring hunger. Stripped to its most primal state. Everything within you is jumping. No one talks about this—screwing for the sake of the flesh. You need to come, and keep coming, and he does too. There’s no other thought, no other reason. He’d mount you if he could, knot in you for hours, pump you full of his seed. If this is the way it’s meant to be, then let it be. Let him fuck you until he’s satiated. Let him fuck you into your last dying breath.

But his words. You want those for yourself. He whispers them in your ears, his mouth everywhere, the hotness of his breath, the raspiness of his voice—just as lost as you. This is how you need him.

“This cunt is mine, fucking mine, mine . . . Say it,” he drills into you, skin slapping on skin, sweat like water, and your tears, so uncontrollable, so many— “Say it, damn you.”

“Yours,” you comply, your arm reaching out to wrap around his neck. He kisses your shoulder, he bites, he marks. “All of me. Forever.”

“Swear it. Don’t ever leave me.”

“No . . . no . . .” You moan loudly as he reaches deep inside, to spots that make you see stars.

He shoves your face in the mattress, and gets on top of you, pistoling his length into you, hard and fast, chasing after the high he craves. You cry out and take it. The pain is so intense, bleeding into pleasure, overwhelming your body. You can’t feel your own heartbeat anymore, only Chris, only his pounding.

“Such a goddamn slut. Look at you,” he slaps your ass once, “fucking look at you,” twice, three times, four. You sob into the sheets, grab onto them. He’s relentless, he’s so close, you’re so close— “Why are you crying, huh?” He pulls you by the hair hard, lifting your head. You gulp down air, you’re glutinous, deprived. “Did you need my cock that bad? Have I not fucked your needy little hole enough?”

“You have, you have, please . . .”

Let go for me, sweetheart, fuck, you feel so fucking good . . . Never get tired of this pussy, taking me so well, baby, so fucking well, come on, one more, one more, that’s it . . .

Coming felt like the gates of heaven liquifying inside you. Your orgasm tore through you so savagely, you forgot how to breathe for several moments, your limbs unresponsive and extremely sore. Only thing you could do was convulse under Chris’ massive body, and let him ride his own, his nails digging into raw flesh, voice groggy and incredibly deep after three rounds of sex.

“Did I hurt you? Did I hurt you, baby?”

You hadn’t realized you were still crying ugly, terrible sobs. You immediately missed the weight of him as he got off you at once and flipped you on your back, panic-stricken honey eyes searching your face, your chest, any part of you he might’ve harmed.

“Where does it hurt? What have I done?” He kisses your temple, your eyes, he tastes your tears. He’s so worried you almost feel guilty for not responding. “(Y/N), I need you to tell me, sweetheart, I can’t see it, I can’t—is it your—”

“I’m fine,” you pacify him, placing your hands on either side of his face. You’re still breathing abnormally fast, but so is he. The room is spinning. “You didn’t hurt me anywhere, I’m fine, Chris.”

“But if you were, you’d tell me, yeah?”

He was so handsome, so handsome when he loved you.

“I would.”

His gaze was piercing, honeycomb giving way to molasses. His hands were trailing off again, doing their own thing, what they knew best; how to please you. His thumb on your clit, rubbing soft circles, your creamy entrance making lewd sounds that had the man over you growing impossibly hard again.

“And what about this?” A warm, tingly sensation grew low in your belly. “Does this hurt?”

You trap his hand with your thighs, and he smiles. You smile back.

“Maybe a little,” you lie, stretching.

He doesn’t let up. His fingers slip inside again, his other hand moving on himself, veiny and sure. Chris masturbating to the sight of getting you off is perhaps the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. Your body is a tool he’s acquainted well with, and has made his sole expertise. So many hours on this bed, learning each other naked.

“Your cunt says something else,” he smirks, pumping his fist over his girth slowly, deliberately, growling low in the process, making you wetter, making you want, want, want. A chain of chemical reactions, you’ve become. “I wanna eat you out, (Y/N), you think you’ll be able to handle that?”

Yes. Yes, yes, yes.

“I’ve been thinking about it all day,” he mumbles on your stomach, placing a kiss there, and traveling down, nose dangerously close to where you want him most. “Your face when you come apart on my tongue—I wish I could die between your legs, baby.”

“Don’t say that,” you hide your face in embarrassment, as you feel him get in position, opening your legs wide, staring shamelessly at your swollen pussy.

“I’ll say whatever the fuck I want,” he licks it once, tongue pressing flat on your clit and flicking, and you’re fucking gone. You’re writhing, trying to get away, moaning so loudly the whole house must’ve heard you. “This is mine, you’re fucking mine, and you’re so goddamn beautiful.”

He doesn’t get to work much on you, you’re coming apart in minutes. You’re so overstimulated, your legs are shaking uncontrollably, the muscles twitching. He doesn’t seem to care though, because he’s fingering all of your cream on his cock and finishing himself off, an ungodly sight, something out of a renaissance painting, the most explicit one, all well defined abs and veins popping on his neck, mouth formed into a perfect silent scream, as he pumps, and pumps and shoots on your thighs, white thick streaks, hot and sticky.

There’s a knock on the door, a throat clearing.

“Bahng,” Changbin’s voice. “It’s important.”

The room drops in the negatives. You see the abrupt change on your boyfriend’s face, his expression freezing over, his jaw clenching, moving, as he stares at the door like he wants to break it, and then beat his friend’s face in. You get on your elbows and whisper softly, “It’s okay,” to which he ignores.

“What the fuck do you want?” He calls out, furious, getting off the bed and grabbing a pair of discarded jeans from the floor.

“Meeting in ten,” his captain replies, and then there’s footsteps shuffling away.

“I need to shower, anyway,” you try to lighten the mood, reaching over the bed for your shirt. “We’ve been holed up here for hours. I don’t even know what time it is.”

“Why do you need to know?”

You don’t let his tone ruin what you’ve been building for the entire day. He was perfectly fine up until two seconds ago, it has nothing to do with you. You repeat this to yourself as you move around the room, clipping the hair away from your face, wiping the makeup from your cheeks.

“It’s really alright, Chris, you’ll only be gone for a bit.”

He ignores this as well. What he does—he takes two big strides towards you and grabs your face roughly. You meet his eyes, dark and menacing, and keep your cool. You don’t let his anger scare you, you’ve seen it all before. It has nothing to do with you, it has nothing to do with you.

“All you need to know, is I’m still in this fucking room and you smell like my cum, and there’s a lot of fucking things I can do in ten minutes,” he snarls, patting your hair down, bringing your hips together. “All you need to know is you have no use for clocks, because you’re not going anywhere. Am I fucking clear?”

You try not to let your body take over your mind, as it’s happened many times before. He knows your weak spot, he knows how good he can make it feel, and he uses it to his advantage any chance he gets. 

You will not be manipulated. You will stop falling for his words.

“You’re going to regret saying that,” you retorted, suddenly sad. “You’re only being like this because you want to stay.”

To that, he visibly calms, he mellows. “Of course I do. I never wanna be anywhere else. I wanna fuck you until you’re on the verge of passing out, and then I want to take you in the water and make it all better,” he tries to kiss you but you turn your head. There are no words to describe the hurt etched on his face, then. “You’re the only thing that matters, (Y/N). The only true thing.”

“Why do you treat me like this, Chris? Hot, then cold, again and again.”

You might’ve as well slapped him. He untangles himself from you at once, and walks over to the closet for a shirt. Your stomach drops. You definitely said something you shouldn’t have. Who knows how he’ll be now, what he might do. You might not see him for days. He knows how to hurt you and keep hurting you. One coin, two sides.

Nevertheless, you have to know. He never gives you any answers. You’ve given away so much to be here, to be with him. He walks the thin line of having something like that, a line between holding you—broken glass on his shaking palm, recklessly picking up the pieces when they fall, unafraid of the blood, of the cutting and maiming, and the repercussions afterwards.

His self destructiveness has never been more prominent before. Now it’s all you see.

“One true thing, Chris. Please.”

He looked so severe, the set of his jaw, the glint in his eye. When he punches the closet door closed and smashes the mirror with his fist, you don’t think he’s quite there in the room with you anymore. He’s in that faraway place again, in that hole, so hard to find.

Of course, the blood. The blood is always there. It’s been there from the start.

He motions for you not to move, his hair a mess sticking in all directions. Such violence and it’s all within him, there’s nothing you can do to pull it out of him. Only when it lashes out, only when he becomes the weapon.

“Don’t fucking come near me,” he barks, and you stop, you remain perfectly still, your gaze locked to his knuckles, bleeding profusely, staining the carpet. “I will never hurt you,” he rasps, and there’s iron will behind his words. “I will never fucking hurt you, I’d sooner die. I’d sooner fucking die . . .” His eyes fall closed, his breathing deepens, and you’re pretty sure you only have a few seconds before this all goes to shit.

You grab your clothes, and shoes, and where’s your phone, where’s your stupid phone—

“Get out of here. Get out of here now.”

You bite your lip until you taste copper. You won’t cry. You won’t fucking cry. This is not your fight. This is not your problem.

“I love you,” you squeeze out, before you throw the door open and spill down the stairs, the beast bellowing behind you, “GET THE FUCK OUT, GET THE FUCK OUT.”

“What the hell’s going on?” Changbin puts his hands out, grabs your shoulders. 

Felix doesn’t even have to look at you; he curses, and climbs the stairs three at a time, calling for backup. The demolition has already begun.

You won’t cry. You refuse, you refuse, you refuse.

There’s no love without violence, sweetheart, and did you know?

ACT THREE: intermission.

In a fight, he’s devastating.

You’d told him time and time again, none of it meant anything, not a thing, just some mindless flirting to get better tips, it was part of your job, it was silly, little, nothing, nothing at all. You’d warned him against coming inside the Muse. It’d only cause trouble.

He would only cause trouble. It’s why he had Minho permanently positioned in there, it’s how the club was under Strays payroll, it was his excuse for visiting that night.

Making sure the product was being distributed properly. Keeping an eye out. Bullshit. You were so mad at him. He never showed up for these things, they went through other people. Chris was too important for it. And yet, here he was, disrupting your workflow, beating your regulars into a pulp.

You didn’t recognize anything from the man he was the last time you saw him. He had none of the tenderness, none of the ember in his gaze, no softness; only sharp, obliterating cruelty and the gun on his strap. His fists were bloody, his anger palpable.

Your tables had emptied out, unpaid. You were so angry.

“Try it, motherfucker,” your boyfriend smashed the poor guy’s head against the hardwood floor, repeatedly, in succession, until your voice was scratched raw from shouting for someone to stop him. “Try getting near her again, let me see you. Walk a straight fucking line to my girl, see if you get to live another goddamn day.”

“I didn’t know she was your girl, man! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” The man had been reduced to tears, his face so beat up you could barely make out his features under all the blood.

Minho stood in one corner, observing passively, while Seungmin tried to keep his friend back, ever the security guard. Chris was gone, though. There was no way to bring him back. There’d be a death tonight, and all of you would have to pretend it never happened. You think about that. About the first time you lied for him. For them.

“Bet you wanted to fuck her, hm?” He pulls his head up, only to bring him to his knee, kicking his nose broken, and throwing him back on the floor, chairs wobbling and falling over in the storm of him. “That’s what you’ve been coming for, isn’t it, you sick fuck?”

The whimpering is what did it for you. “I didn’t know. Please! Please!” You couldn’t just stand aside; you couldn’t let this go on.

The stage was empty, the band long finished with their set, now sitting at the counter over at the bar, glancing curiously your way. It was infuriating how none of them wanted to get involved. It was too late for this. Too fucking late, and you were tired.

So, you walked over to where Chris was stomping on the man’s ribs, making sure you were in his line of vision. When you got as close as you could, you called out his name. Nothing. You tried again.

“Chris. Chris.”

“I’ll fucking kill him, baby, he’ll never look at you twice, he won’t be able to, I swear it to you.” In what dark, dark place have you crawled into, my love? How do I get there?

You try to keep your voice steady, reasonable. From the corner of your eye, you see Seungmin shaking his head at you, motioning you to step back, away, out from the line of fire. 

“I don’t want that, Chris. I want you to let him go.”

“What?”

“And then I want you to go home.”

In retrospect, you should’ve heeded the bouncer’s advice. This version of Chris does not belong to you, it has nothing to do with feeling or logical thought. It festered in some terror-stricken hole he’d found as a child, and grew into a large open wound, the heart tree of all inhumanity in him. You’d have to carve it out if you’re to ever save him. But to carve it . . . No. You couldn’t. Not you.

Two terrible things happened that night, things that you’d quicker forget than let yourself remember fully.

His calloused hand attacked your neck, wrapping around it with such brutal force, it knocked the air out of you. Immediately, four men jumped to your rescue, circling you like hounds, yelling at Chris, trying to snatch him away from you.

“Stand the fuck down,” he snarled at them, never taking his black eyes off you. “You think I’d actually fucking hurt her? She can take this, can’t you, sweetheart?”

You nod, willing yourself to breathe through your panic, to combine this touch with the one he uses when he makes you feel good, the pain only pleasurable, only flitting, almost enjoyable. He watches you do this, and something flashes in his expression, a recognition, a moment of clarity. It’s gone as soon as it arrives.

“Don’t ever tell me what the fuck to do, you understand? I’m doing this for you, so you can be safe,” he’s never raised his voice at you, and he’s not doing it now, either. You’d take the screaming over this eerie calmness, this polite rage.

This is the monster under your bed, the demon in your closet. You can’t do anything about this, you don’t even know what’s hiding there.

“I didn’t ask for that, Chris,” you manage to say, placing a hand over the one on your throat. No one speaks, no one moves.

“You’ve no fucking idea what’s good for you, do you?”

“Clearly,” you reply, calmly, bitterly.

You see him swallow, and fight with the shadows clouding his judgment. You see the split decision—and the way he shoves you away, the way he refuses to look at you any longer. 

“Have it your way,” he snaps. He’s still so beautiful to you, even like this, the way a severe thunderstorm is, the way gray clouds can cover an entire sunny day in minutes. Not despite, but in spite.  “But this fucker dies today.”

In a split second, your life—an infinite whirlwind, a dizzying dance with no end in sight—it changes, it shifts, because—Chris takes his gun out, a single click, and shoots the man on the floor beside you. All it takes. A blink of an eye. No one seems to get what happened, probably accustomed to the death looming over, but you—you’re covered in blood now, blood that’s not yours, and you’ve never seen someone die before. You don’t even think it registers in your mind, really. You just stare, and stare, and hope that he’ll get up and go to a hospital, because he looks terrible.

“Don’t feel too bad, princess,” Felix whispers somewhere from behind you. “He was a registered sex offender. Boss found out today. Chris had to do it.”

“Chris is not a hit man,” you say mechanically, paralyzed, something else looking through your eyes, inhabiting your body. 

Where are you? Where’d you go?

“No, he’s not,” he agrees. You faintly feel a hand on your shoulder. You don’t react. “But he’s the one that’ll always get the job done. No matter what.”

This is the second thing. Learning that your boyfriend might be more of a collection of ghosts than an actual person. That the blood sprayed on your legs could be anyone’s, could be yours. The thing is, you weren’t truly scared before, but you are now.

And the terrifying truth—you still love him. You love him, you love him, it beats as sure as your heart, it fills you with guilt and despair, because . . . you don’t even really care. You should, surely. This is a horrible situation. But Chris is standing a mere few feet away from you, and he wants nothing to do with you, not when he’s like this, and somehow that’s more severe, that’s—that’s the real tragedy.

“Take care of it,” he cracks his neck, addressing no one in particular. Any of these men would do anything for him, for the club. Honor and loyalty, above all. “Bring me the books. There’s still business.”

Minho and Seungmin get to work, while a third person goes in the back. You don’t know who, you don’t see them, your gaze hasn’t moved from Chris. You whisper his name again, like back in the alley, over and over, and hope for him to turn around, to look and see, to dance with you, to shake you and make you spill. But he doesn’t. You don’t think he ever will again.

You’re one of them now. He didn’t keep you away, he failed, and so now you know.

“And for fuck’s sake, someone take her the hell away from here.”

You kickstart. “No, I won’t go.” You’re here, you’re here, where would I go if you’re here?

He won’t even spare you a second, a moment. He’s walking towards the bar, he’s lighting a cigarette, his hands are still raw and bleeding. The club is closed for the night, you’re no longer needed. Just another witness, just another person in the room. He can make you feel so small, so incredibly small, like you never mattered at all.

Felix steps up and offers to drive you.

“To the house,” Chris instructs firmly, skimming through pages of numbers. “Stay with her until I come back.”

There’s tears stinging your eyes. You fight not to let anyone see them. There’s so much movement around you, it’s making your head spin. Red, fuschia, orange, yellow, blue—the lights never stop turning, they bleed over everything, a dream, a technicolor dream. You lift your hand to your cheek to confirm you’re still real, that you’re still breathing.

You’re sick to your stomach. Not enough. Not enough.

“Why are you sending me away?” You try again, foolishly hoping he’s going to pay you any mind, give you any explanation.

“Come on, (Y/N),” Felix mumbles close to your ear. “You don’t wanna be here for the clean up, trust me.”

Why are you sending me away, why are you sending me away . . . You don’t remember the ride to the club house. You don’t remember much of anything after the click of that gun. It echoes. The man’s eyes roll to the back of his head, a loop of red, fuschia, orange, yellow, blue, redfuschiaorangeyellowblueredfuschiaorangeyellowblue

Someone screams.

ACT FOUR: after.

“I’ve never had a moment’s peace.”

Shirtless, with bandages running down his chest and over his shoulder, he looks like a tortured man returned from war. Burned. Turned inside out.

He was born with a gun in his hand, a ticking time bomb in his head. It’s been counting down since, the brain has festered into a landmine, a battlefield. No. Peace is a foreign word. Reserved only for you.

You listen, you let yourself become the body he loves. You can’t find it in you to be angry at him, not anymore.

“How can I hold a thing like you in my hands and not break it? When you asked me for the truth . . . I couldn’t think of anything, (Y/N), not a single fucking thing,” he wraps a towel around your head, sure, capable hands pulling you up and helping you out of the bathtub. “What I feel for you is poisonous, it’s disturbing. You don’t want that. You shouldn’t want that. It’s not what you deserve.”

“You’re saying all this like you’re saying goodbye,” you whisper, letting him dry your skin, noticing the way he won’t allow himself to linger too long.

You see his mouth curve, his brow furrow. A strange image. It’s almost as if . . .

“I’ve only ever been a monster. A pathetic fucking excuse of a man, and I cannot keep you caged, I can’t keep being selfish with you,” when he’s once again met with your silence, he circles around you, hides behind your back. “You’re incredible, you know that? Other girls would’ve been running for the hills, but not you,” when he lets your hair fall, there’s a horrifying sound, like the earth ripping apart, the heavens falling—

Chris is crying.

Chris is crying and something is very, very wrong. Nothing feels right. He won’t let you turn around. His hands hold you still, his face is buried between your shoulder blades, and he.won’t.let.you.turn.around.

Your eyes sting with the effort it takes not to break down alongside him.

“You just—won’t—fucking—leave. You won’t give up,” he sobs, and then he’s hugging you, he’s hugging you so tight your ribs burn, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, because you never in a thousand years ever pictured this man crying, much less in front of you.

“I’m never giving up,” you reassure him, trying to soothe the boy trying to come out, to escape. “Because I love you. Whatever that means for you, Chris. I love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

He feel him shake his head, his hand wraps around your throat, bodies flush against each other. “I want you. I want you without . . .”

He lets go.

You turn to him, tilting your head, looking for his eyes. He exhales shakily, and moves away, grabbing his lighter from his back pocket, the cigarette from behind his ear. He rubs his face raw, then lights it, tip cherry red and burning fast, and he uses a hand to sit on the tiled floor, one arm resting on his knee. You get in front of him, towel forgotten, numb, completely numb.

“The club?” You say, quietly, so as not to anger the spirits, the demons. For no one else to hear but him. “You want to leave the club?”

He chuckles bitterly, and scratches his brow with a thumb, avoiding your gaze completely. Smoke swirls around you like snakes hunting for prey, an ominous presence. “I can’t even fucking say it. It’s been my whole life, my whole life. This fucking place—I know nothing else.”

“We‘ll figure it out. If you want out, we’ll find a way. Chris, these people look up to you, they trust you—”

“No, the fuck they don’t. That trust goes out the fucking window as soon as I walk. If I leave I’m a fucking traitor. If I leave I’ve betrayed all of them.”

You reach for his empty hand. He pulls away. You can’t ignore the Deja vu of this action. “And what about you?” You press, still. “What about what you’ve given for them, for their laws and rules? Your soul, Chris—”

He laughs, then, a proper laugh. When he does, finally, meet your eye, you see it all. The tortured, the choked, the repressed. It will never be easy. Ever. He might not ever make the decision, he might not ever leave. But dreaming about it . . . He has the right. No matter how unattainable, how unrealistic it seems to him. Why has no one ever shown him how?

“That battered, old thing,” he muses at his cigarette. “Lost it a long time ago, baby. Nothing there.”

“I don’t believe that.”

His smile breaks your heart. It looks so defeated, so devoid of any real happiness. “This is why I can’t let you go,” his fingers reach out and touch your bottom lip, the intention pure, nothing more than a reminder you’re still there, still his, but his gaze speaks of something darker, something you’ll never be able to quit.

“I got charges against me,” he says. “If I take the fall, the club remains. If I don’t, it all goes to hell.”

No. No. “Let it,” you choke out. “Let it! Chris, we can leave. We can go. Let’s just go. Please, I don’t—I can’t, I don’t want to lose—”

The biker puts his hands on your shoulders, shushes you, cradles you like a baby. You comply, a million different things bubbling inside you, ways to get him out, words you never said, everything you didn’t get to do yet. It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair.

“Listen to me,” he continues, cigarette hanging limply from his mouth. “It’s already done. I’ll be gone for a long time, alright, and I need to make sure you’re fucking taken care of. Be a good girl for me, yeah? Listen to me, (Y/N).”

You couldn’t. You were crying too hard, you missed him already. What you two had was nothing but burrowed time, you knew this, and you still mistook it for forever. This was why he didn’t want to get too close. This is why, every time you tried to hold onto him, he slipped away like quicksand. It was all coming down to this.

“Sweetheart, come on, stop crying. You know who I am, yeah? Don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself. Listen to me—I’ve hidden money away. I want you to have it, okay? Use it to get yourself a place, somewhere safe. And don’t fucking go back to that club, I don’t wanna hear you went back, you hear me? Do something for yourself, go to school, I know how fucking smart you are, you’ll fucking blow them away. Hm?” He lifts your chin with his thumb, kisses your forehead, staying there, lingering for one, two, three seconds, before he pulls back and looks into your eyes, willing you to agree, to accept the money, to go on living without him. “I love you, alright? You got all of me, whatever’s still there, it’s all yours. Don’t wait for me. Live.”

“I don’t want to.”

He deflates, sighing heavily. “Don’t make this harder than it is, (Y/N). Do what I say.”

You shake your head, sniffling, wiping at your cheeks. “Not without you. I’m not doing any of that without you. I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you.”

His expression is pleading, his nails digging into your skin like he wants to crawl inside and change your mind. “It’ll be years, baby. Too many. You’ve no fucking idea the shit I’ve done. They got it all, some fucking snitch went and gave it all away. I’m turning myself in tomorrow, I’m not—I’m not fucking asking you to wait. You’re not. Find some lucky boy that’s got nothing to do with this life, and be normal. I never meant to bring you into all of this. You didn’t—didn’t fucking deserve it.”

“Just like that?” you ask, defeated. You could never picture yourself being with anyone else, no one at all.

After Chris, nothing. Alone. Lonely, forever.

He chuckles, crushing you to him, his arms strong, and steady, and home, home, home. “Just like that. I’ll wring his fucking neck out if he’s not good to you, though. I’ll always keep an eye out, always make sure you’re safe.”

“Can I hear it again?” Such a quiet request, barely anything.

He knew exactly what you meant. Your heart broke, fresh tears making their descent on your face. He wiped all of them away. He held you as if, if it was up to him, he’d never, ever let go.

“I love you. I love you so fucking much, sweetheart. You’ll be alright. I got you. I got you.”

You reach to where you know he keeps his gun. His hand flies out to stop you, gaze flaming with fear, with anger. Ash burns your arm, but you don’t even feel it. You’ve seen him use it; undo the safety, press down on the trigger. It was so easy for him. It’ll be easy for you too.

“Shoot me, then,” you bellow. “If you’re not gonna let me do it myself, shoot me! I don’t fucking want this, I’m not losing you, I’m not getting with someone else! What about me? You got this great plan—did you ever stop to think about what I’d want? If I’d be able to move on like how you’re expecting me to? I can’t just switch off my feelings for you, Chris, it doesn’t work like that, okay? I’ve gone through too much, I’ve seen too fucking much to just—to just—”

He wrestles you down, pinning your body on the floor, and getting on top of you, his smooth, cold gun resting on top of your heart. His mouth had curled into a tortured snarl, a bitter smile, his eyes shiny, crazy. You were shaking, he was shaking. You started crying, he started crying. With his thigh against your cunt, you felt his erection, hard and twitching.

“You think I didn’t think of this first?” He said roughly. “Christ, (Y/N), I’m trying to do the right thing here. You think I’ll be able to fucking kill you? I fucking adore you. I’d rather shoot myself in the head first, get it over with. Don’t ever fucking ask that of me again. I’ll be a dead man the second I do such a thing. I’ll be a dead fucking man if I’m not able to have you. Don’t ever fucking do that again.”

“Coward,” you spit in his face, and fight against his death grip. “Sentence us both then. I’ll be dead either way.”

He smashes your lips together. It hurts, it hurts, you wanna say, but you don’t think it’ll ever stop. There’s nothing in his way, everything in yours. In the time it takes to unzip his pants, grab his cock and guide it inside you, you’ve mourned him a thousand times over. To never have this again—him, again. . . You’ll die from missing him. You’ll cry yourself dry. There’s absolutely no way to escape this fate. You’re not ready, you’ll never be. How ridiculous it all seems in the end, faced with losing him.

He makes love to you slow, gentle, like he’s never done before. It’s not so much to get you off, than it is to make you understand. He could kill you both, but he’ll never be able to see you again. His place will be hell, the lowest level, the one he’ll have to keep walking for all eternity, while you’re up with the angels. If he doesn’t, if he hides the gun and never thinks of it again, at least he knows you’re somewhere out there, where there might be a one in a million chance he gets to be with you once more. If you’ll take him. Old and grey. He’ll never see you again as you are underneath him right now.

You stay like that on the floor for a while, with his seed spilling from between your legs, your scent all over him. You kiss him and for the first time, he kisses back. No teeth, no fists.

When he moves you over to the bed, he sleeps for the first time since he was born.

He sleeps and he dreams of you, of little hands reaching out, of being away from all this, far, far away. What he would give.

Everything. Everything.

[kazuhaiku]

love story

summary: kinich makes a surprise visit to fontaine and wants to spend the entire day with you, no excuses.

warnings: gender neutral reader, fluff, might be ooc kinich (it's just my interpretation on his personality as of now).

notes: silly little kinich fic as my first post >< reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :)

“kinich!” you exclaim from the hunters’ guild, a huge smile on your face as you see him walking towards you, a nonchalant look on his face as usual. “hey! i didn’t know you were visiting fontaine. you should have told me!”

“it wouldn’t be a surprise if i tell now would it?” kinich replies, ajaw beside him nodding in agreement. “what are you doing in the hunters’ guild? did you receive a new commission?”

“mhm,” you hum in reply. “lumine and paimon are taking a day off so i’m taking over their commissions for today!” you hand him the list of commissions that are currently available to do and you swear you can see a faint glint of disappointment in his eyes when he sees how many commissions there are to do. “i’m-”

“let me help.” kinich abruptly cuts you off. “you’ll get this finished faster when i’m helping. i’m allowed to help, right?” his eyes flicker over to katheryne who is smiling amusingly. 

“yes of course, if that’s okay with y/n?” katheryne eyes you knowingly. despite katheryne being a robot, she has a clear understanding of the tension between you and kinich (a little too well, if you must say).

you clear your throat. “oh um- yeah of course you can help!” kinich smiles at your answer. he keeps the piece of paper containing the commission details inside his pocket.

“come on, no time to waste. we have lots of things to do today.” kinich exclaims almost excitedly, and you can’t help but wonder what plans he’s got for you today (because why else would he come all the way from natlan to fontaine?).

kinich indeed wasted no time because as soon as there was a fight, he jumped straight into it, killing the enemies almost instantly. before you know it, the commissions are all done hours before your predicted finish time.

kinich wipes the sweat away from his forehead, acting as if he didn’t just do all the commission for you. he turns around and gives you a big smile. “we’re done now, yeah? you’re finished with work?”

“um, yeah…” you stare at kinich as if he just ate a spider.

kinich tilts his head to the side. “what? why are you staring at me like that?”

“no it’s just,” you let out a small laugh, suddenly finding kinich’s actions a bit funny. “aren’t you acting a bit too… desperate?”

“d-desperate?” kinich stutters, a red hue filling his cheeks. “i don’t- i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

you raise your eyebrows. “really? so you did all my commissions in under ten minutes, used every single teleport waypoint instead of exploring the land like you always do, and made me watch you do the commissions instead of letting me help?”

kinich’s cheeks turn darker as you speak, and he immediately covers his face, as if his plan has been busted. “okay, you’re right. i’m… desperate.” he removes his hand from his face, pulling you into a tight hug. “i missed you so much, okay? my work lasted much longer than i had expected, and there was no time for me to write a letter to you.”

you can practically hear the pout in his voice. you gently pat his back, consoling him. “i missed you even more, kinich. how long has it been since we last met?”

“four weeks.” kinich says almost instantly.

you hum. kinich lets go of you, however, one of his hands is still holding one of yours tightly. he doesn’t say anything, and only focuses on caressing your hands, as if you are going to disappear when he lets go.

“kinich,” you call out, and his head whips up. “i’m not going anywhere.”

“i know, i’m sorry,” kinich sighs. “i had so many plans for us today but now i can’t even think of what we should do first.”

“well, considering i- we finish the list of commissions earlier than i had expected… why don’t we start from the top of the list?” you suggest. kinich’s eyes lit up, however, there is a glint of confusion behind it. “of course i know about the list. we’ve been dating for, what, four months now? i know you keep a list whenever we go out.”

kinich makes a sound of surprise and he lowers his head, slowly grabbing the piece of paper from his pocket. he hands it to you silently. “you know me too well, y/n.”

you smile, opening the paper. there aren’t many things on the paper, considering that he listed only five things; explore the court of fontaine, stop by the cafe there and have a nice little coffee date with y/n :), ride the aquabus (seems like fun), visit the opera epiclese, visit the chioriya boutique and gift y/n an outfit!

“wow…” you gasp in awe. “chioriya boutique? how’d you know i like her outfits?”

“remember the letter we last sent out to each other?” kinich asks and you nod. “well, you briefly mentioned her. how you love the outfits she makes and you made a little note on the side saying how you really want an outfit from her but you don’t have enough mora to buy one.”

“that- kinich that letter was probably sent a month ago! how do you still remember that?” you ask, surprised that he remembers the small detail.

kinich only smiles in response. “well, no time to explain. come on, let’s ride the aquabus! i’ve been dying to ride them ever since i got here.”

he pulls you and starts running, almost making you tumble. well, since he’s really excited, you can’t really complain. a happy kinich is a sight to behold.

[00kittenz]

── our little secret. ( psh ) 🧸

๑ In which Sunghoon makes you realize just how badly you’ve missed his touch after going almost a week without it…

pair: sunghoon ㅊ f!reader | warnings: smut, pwp, cheating (oof), secret relationship, slightly jealous and possessive sunghoon, teasing, begging, fingering (in both holes lol), praise and degrading, oral (f + m rec.), spanking, piv, unprotected s.x | words: 2.0k

this is based off this ask i got the other day !! i kinda wrote more smut cs im a slut for hoon what can i say lol. but thnx to that anon for this delicious idea ヾ(>᎑<๑)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“why haven’t you been answering any of my calls ?” sunghoon looked visibly in distress, profusely running his fingers through his hair, “had me worried sick about you..”

you stood in front of the doorway quiet, heaving out a sigh before you could explain, “..i’m really sorry hoon. it’s just i got caught up again with—” stopping yourself mid sentence, you spare him of any further details, deciding to just drop this whole subject entirely. “actually never mind, just forget it.”

he isn’t dumb, he knows exactly what you’re talking about. it’s just he chooses to turn a blind eye to it all. doesn’t wanna get caught in the midst, even though he quite literally already is. he’d rather not hear about another fight you and your boyfriend had, or knowing the stability of your relationship with him at all. in the beginning it didn’t affect him as much, but as time went on he just couldn’t bear to listen anymore. sunghoon will never understand why you’re still with him when he can be all that you need and so much more.

call him delusional or whatever, but you were his girl. no one else’s. he’s so crazy about you that if you asked him to kill someone for you he’d probably do it without even hesitating. it’s kind of pathetic to be so blindly in love with someone who’s already taken, but he’s been dead set on you since the day you two locked eyes. ‘love at first sight’ or whatever you may call it. he’s never felt more deeply in tune with another person, it’s like you two were made for each other. of course he’d give anything for you to break up with that loser, it’s just going to take some time (and convincing) to get you to finally do that. plus, what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him, right ?

“come in.” you usher him inside quickly before anyone sees, shutting the door behind you with your foot.

once he fully walked through the door, your arms immediately swung around his neck, unable to hold back anymore. you missed him more than anything, you missed holding him, seeing him, been craving his touch all day, everyday; which is why you decided to cut the ‘date’ you had with your boyfriend short today. you came up with some lame excuse, saying how you weren’t feeling well and needed to go home. he looked as though he didn’t believe you but he let you leave anyway, hoping that you’d feel better and to text him once you got back home. spoiler: you didn’t.

this has been going on for a couple months now, no one knows of this clandestine relationship, not even your closest of friends and you’d like to keep it that way. it’s a horrible thing to say but you don’t necessarily feel any remorse or guilt for what you’re doing at all, if anything you like the thrill of it. sunghoon made you feel things that you’ve never felt before, he was everything that your boyfriend wasn’t and that’s what drew you in the minute you two met.

“missed you..” you muffle into his shirt that were clinging on, basking in the rich scent of his expensive cologne, your favorite one to be exact.

“i missed you so much more baby,” he shamelessly confessed, not caring if it comes off clingy. “couldn’t have you all this week so i’m gonna have you now,” he continued, “been dying to have a taste of these lips again.” he engulfed you even tighter, lifting your head up to lean in and kiss you for the first time tonight.

๑ ๑ ๑

“god.. you’re so fucking pretty.” sunghoon whispers against your skin, peppering kisses along your jaw, sinking down towards your neck. his hands roam everywhere, exploring every inch of you. god, how you’ve missed this feeling so. so. much.

he finally had you right where he wanted, he’s been wanting this for days, thirsting for you all week; and now that he has it you he wasn’t just gonna let you slip away so easily. you let his arms lift your sweater over your head, aching to kiss below the collarbone. his hands cupped your ass, lifting you up from the couch as he carries you to your room, settling you down onto the bed.

“so gorgeous baby.. ”

his eyes danced around your bare upper body, down to your soft, round thighs, to your legs.. admiring your curvy figure. it’s like you were sculptured to perfection; he’ll never not be obsessed with you. an angel that’s descended from heaven is what you are to him. you knew his words had an affect on you, you felt it, he had you dripping for him just from his compliments alone.

his large hands caressed your breasts while his thumb teased your nipple, feeling it stiffen the minute he comes in contact with it. you held your breath for a second, feeling hypersensitive from not being touched in so long. the reactions you had as he did so was enough to make his boxers tighten under his sweats. he needed you more than the oxygen that pervades his lungs, if he could live in this moment forever — he would without even thinking.

when his index and thumb twisted your hardened nip, the moan you let out was hoarse.. broken.. you couldn’t believe you hadn’t felt his touch for almost a week. seemed like an impossible task in hindsight. sunghoon coated his saliva around the base of your nipple, his arm sliding down your body to cup your wetness.

“my precious girl,” he let out a low chuckle, feeling how soaked you were through your thin pajama shorts.

“so wet for me, huh, so needy for me?” he teases you with his fingers, tracing everywhere but your clit.

you squirmed underneath him, grasping onto your pink bedsheets. oh, how you so badly missed his dirty talk.. it looked so good on him. you buck your needy hips up against his hand, wanting to feel more of him as much as you possibly can.

“hmm..fuck..” you gasped, making him chuckle at you again. his hands shift to your waistband yanking them down as they hung to your feet.

“spread.” you didn’t even hesitate for him, your legs shot open. your hand held under your thigh, keeping it open so sunghoon could get a glimpse of your pretty glistening cunt. he stood between your legs, spreading apart your folds as if he were inspecting you.

“mm.. hoon.. please hurry i want your fingers..” you moaned, he spared a glance at your sparkling eyes before complying.

he simply hums at your eagerness, “then i shouldn’t keep my girl waiting, should i ?..” his fingers hid themselves in your weeping hole slowly while he eyed you, drinking up your features.

you felt his fingers trace the inside of your cunt making your face contort messily, your bottom lip held captive by your upper teeth.

“uhhuh, you like that right baby, you missed this ?” he thrusted his digits in and out of you at a pace that kept gradually fastening.

you had no intention on responding, it’d only be a waste of breath. especially when he knew you already liked it. your moans filled the room beautifully.

“fuck, you’re so good for me.. gonna ruin this pretty pussy.” he’d been fingering you into oblivion as his hidden digits thrusted into you, his thumb ran circles around your blushing clit.

“hah, yes ! yes, baby ! i’m coming!..” your shaky hand held onto his wrist. hips bouncing themselves towards him, you exploded.. your juices coated his fingers and the sheets you’d rested on before you were called to taste euphoria.

“good girl, you took it so well for me.” he slapped your thigh, following it up by pulling his layers down, revealing his hard. he laced his fingers around the base, pumping hisself a few times before hovering over you, kissing your bruised, swollen lips from earlier.

your hands were quick to palm him, cupping his balls lightly squeezing them. “oh shit..baby,” he moaned against your skin before sitting you up and guiding you onto your feet.

“knees.” he said before you quickly dropped onto the floor.

he looks at you with eyes full of nothing but admiration and lust before brushing his pink tip against your lips. “open.” he orders once again, raising his brows at you. once you do as your told, he eased himself inside your sticky coated mouth.

at this moment you thought of nothing but pleasing him right, your hands gripped his thighs while your head bobbed slowly on his length. once you were comfortable you quickened yourself. you loved when he was all whiney, especially for you. his hands gripped your hair as he groaned your name, feeling him throbbing inside you.

“mhm.. hell yeah.. just like that for me princess.” he praised you, that moment causing you to squeeze your legs together.

you sucked him harder as your mouth slid off his tip, hands replacing it. your hand added a pressure your mouth couldn’t as you jerked him. his balls sat in your mouth and you suckled and licked until he couldn’t take it anymore

“shit !” he tapped your shoulder before lifting you up onto your feet once more. “all fours now, hurry up.” he groaned at you.

“but you didn't-” you felt his hand swash against your ass causing you to yelp and hurriedly get into position.

“good girl,” he wasted no time into pushing himself inside you, pounding into you as if this were the last time he’d see ever you. you felt your insides tickle everytime he caressed your G spot.

“fuck ! sunghoon, right there..” you pitched, having hold of the comforter for stability.

his middle finger caressed your asshole, taking some of your heats slick to use it as lube. once his finger was inside, your lower felt a dry pain, that was until you felt the pleasure rising from it. his grip on your waist tightened while he watches your ass move fluidly everytime he pushed inside you.

“such a obedient little cunt, isn't it.. so wet and needy for me. she loves this cock fucking her dumb, doesn't she?” he slapped your ass and he wasn’t planning on stopping until he saw handprints.

“trying to milk me aren’t you.. shit..” he hissed as he felt you clench around him.

your hand reaches down to your bud caressing it slowly, ready to reach your high again. “hmm, yes hoon, come on me, please !!”

sunghoon never turned you over so fast. he rubbed his shaft between your folds before bursting onto your smooth abdomen. the sound of you begging for him left him winded.

“fuck.. fuck.. y/n..you have no idea what you do to me..” he went down on you drinking you all up, cleaning you out. “taste so fucking good. who are you tasting so good for?..” he praised again.

“just for you hoonie, only you !” you whined out loudly, playing with the stickiness that caked on your stomach.

not long after, you yourself let out on him. he didn’t fail to drink you clean. he was so drunk off of you that anything you said would be gospel, he’d worship the ground you walked on, whatever you wanted you’d get it in a heartbeat.

he comes up to cup your face, kissing you practically everywhere, your forehead, your eyelids, your cheeks, nose, mouth, neck— he made sure not to miss a single spot. just wants to show all his appreciation for you. he’ll never meet another girl like you, to him you were irreplaceable. most would probably think of him as an idiot to stay with you, but he wouldn’t listen even if a million people told him.

he’ll wait for you if he has to, no matter what he isn’t going anywhere. for now he’ll take what he can get, continuing to keep up this façade as though you’re just “friends” to the outside world, but clearly it’s so much more than that. sunghoon didn’t mind that he was your dirty little secret, he would continue to play along for as long as you needed. or, he’ll just keep fucking you into submission until you finally give in, until you won’t even want to think of another man’s hands touching you the same way his does.

[devildomditzy]

You’re late for your date.

Like, Late late.

And of course, if the situation were switched, you wouldn’t have minded.

In fact, you would have expected it.

But you are you and Mammon is Mammon.

So of course, his leniency for being ignored is next to zero.

He leans against the front door inside the common room of the House of Lamentation. And he looks at his watch.

4:00

4:00

You’re an hour late.

And of course, Mammon tried to play it cool at first, swiping through his D.D.D with an unimpressed look on his face. He’s cool. Nonchalant. His brothers can’t know he’s internally freaking out;

Because he’s totally not.

Of course not. No way. Not over you of all people.

But he can’t hide the jitters so graciously given to him by his nervous system.

“Are you being stood up?”, Satan calls from a nearby armchair in the room, not bothering to look up from what he’s reading.

“I ain’t being stood up! They’ll be here, they’re just…busy. Yeah, that’s it. They’re busy.”

Asmo lays upside down on the couch, scrolling on his own D.D.D.

“Of course they stood him up, they’d much rather go on a date with mwah”, he gloats from his position.

“Oi! Shut up will ya?!”, Mammon screams back, now standing rigidly, hands balled up at his side in anger, leaning into the conversation, ready to make it an argument.

As he takes another breath to get a word out, Satan cuts him off.

“Where were you going anyway?”

“Yeah, where?”, Asmo brightly echos back.

Mammon sighs, body relaxing as he slouches back into his leaning position.

“We were supposed to go to Devil Coast ‘bout an hour ago. But of course MC ain’t got a bone of urgency in their body.”

He grunts, frustratingly looking down at his D.D.D. Twenty-five messages. No replies. What was up with ya?

Asmo cackles wildly, “Maybe they forgot about you, hm?”

Mammon’s face begins to heat up with anger.

“Listen here you little-”

Satan once again cuts him off. “We all know there’s no way they’d forget about Mammon. He’s much too loud”, he says, turning his page.

“Would y’all shuddup? Jeez”, Mammon’s tone becomes lethal in a way his brothers know they should stop pushing, so they do, shooting each other concerned glances.

“Have they texted you back at all?”, questions Satan.

Mammon sighs, “No, not yet.”

He looks down at his phone, scrolling through your message thread.

2:50 PM

Mammon: Yo! Ready to go?

Mammon: I’m by the front door, I’ll be waitin’ for ya.

Mammon: Remember to bring your coat ya dummy, cause I ain’t letting’ you borrow mine this time!

Mammon: Okay

Mammon: Maybe I would let ya borrow it if you really needed it and were shivering and stuff and needed The Great Mammon’s help to warm ya up.

Mammon: But you gotta say please 😜

2:57 PM

Mammon: Alright, where are ya?

Mammon: Thought we agreed on 3:00

Mammon: Do ya need more time gettin’ ready?

Mammon: Tryin’ to look good for your first, huh?

Mammon: I’ll wait a little longer for ya.

3:10 PM

Mammon: Hurry it up, will ya?

Mammon: I understand wantin’ to look nice, but it’s ten after! Ten!

Mammon: Ya know, you’re the only human that keeps me waitin’ like this!

3:30 PM

Mammon: Okay, yer bein’ kinda ridiculous right now.

Mammon: I mean come on, ya gotta date with Mammon. THE Mammon. Ya know how lucky you are?

Mammon: Alotta people would kill to be in your position.

3:35 PM

Mammon: But of course I wouldn’t go with them. I wouldn’t go on a date with anyone but you, okay?

Mammon: That’s why you need to get yer ass down here!

3:40 PM

Mammon: You’ve got some nerve makin’ THE Mammon wait around for ya!

3:45 PM

Mammon: Whatever, isn’t like I wanted to go out with ya anyway.

Mammon: I was doin’ this for you, ya know.

Mammon: Why would I wanna be see around with some lousy human?

Mammon: What am I, yer babysitter?

3:55 PM

Mammon: Look, I didn’t mean that, alright?

Mammon: Please come down.

“Are you sure they’re not asleep?”, Satan ponders curiously.

“Nah, I don’t think so. We’ve been talkin’ about this for weeks”, Mammon says defeatedly, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

“Are you sure they’re okay?”, Asmo asks, voice laced with concern.

“Okay?!”, Mammon shoots his attention to the avatar of lust. “Wah- what- why wouldn’t they be okay?”

Asmo looks around sheepishly, bringing his nails up to his lips to bite them, something he never does unless he’s either A) super stressed or B) covering something up.

Mammon steps towards his brother, anger beginning to boil, knowing what his mannerisms mean. “Whadda you know that I don’t?! C’mon, spill it!”

The urgency in his voice compels Asmo to speak, knowing how sensitive his brother is when it comes to you.

“Well… I promised them I wouldn’t tell you…”

“Tell me what?!”

His brother remains quiet for a moment.

“Asmo…”, Mammon threatens dangerously.

“Ugh, okay I’ll tell you”, Asmo sighs, mumbling quickly under his breath, “MC, please forgive me!”

Mammon stares at his brother impatiently as he starts,

“Well, MC came to me the other day after class. I knew something was wrong because there were tears in their beautiful eyes”, Asmo lays his hand across his forehead as if he were faint.

“Skip the dramatics and keep talkin’!”

“Okay, sheesh. So MC came to me and told me they haven’t been feeling very good lately.”

“What, are they sick or somthin’?”

“No no, nothing like that. More like, their brain feels sick? They said they don’t really know why, but they’ve been feeling bad about themselves lately - which I told them was totally ridiculous! AND I offered them a full makeover WITH facial and they denied it, but that always makes ME feel better.”

Asmo pouts before continuing, “Plus, with all the extra work Lucifer and Lord Diavolo have been giving them with the student council, they said they feel like they’re under so much pressure, they’re gonna crack soon.”

“Why ain’t they tellin’ me any of this!?”

“Because,” Asmo says annoyed, “they don’t want to upset you!”

“What? That’s ridiculous!”, exclaims Mammon.

Asmo matches his volume, “I know right?! That’s what I told them! But they said you were so excited about your date that they didn’t wanna ruin it- hey, where are you going!?”, Asmo yells as Mammon walks out of the room.

“Where’d ya think! I’m gonna go talk to MC!”, Mammon yells back.

So that’s why you weren’t there? You’ve been hurting? For awhile it seems, and you didn’t tell him?

He’s gotta admit, he’s a little hurt. But he knows this isn’t about him right now.

It’s about you.

Mammon didn’t know he would be nervous to see you until he was standing in front of your door. What if says the wrong thing and makes it worse? What if he can’t help you at all? What if he made you feel this way?

Okay. He realizes with that last one that he’s spiraling. Time to fix this.

He lifts a shaky hand to your door, knocking three times rhythmically - the one you know is his knock. And only his.

He cringes when he hears your weak voice choke out a small “come in”.

The room is dark; All the lights are out and it’d be pitch black save for the window next to your bed, illuminating your form, a shivering lump hiding under your blanket.

He lets out a sigh as he walks further in. He should have known about this. He should have been able to pick up on this. Boyfriend of the year, huh?

You sniffle as you pop your head out from under your hiding place.

“H-hey Mams”, you hiccup, giving away the tears that still stream down your face. “I-I’m sorry I ruined our date. I should have texted you, I-I just…”

Mammon walks till he’s leaning right over you, hands on his hips. “Uh-uh, I don’t care about that right now. What I do care about is you, mainly why didn’t ya tell me you were feelin’ like this before our date?”

The tone is his voice gives way to his own hurt, and you can’t help but start to cry again at the sound of it, knowing it’s your fault.

“Shh, shhh,” he quickly sits down on the bed next to you and puts an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug. “I ain’t mad at ya or anything, I just wanna know why.”

He knows why; Asmo told him. But, he wants to hear it from you.

You pull your arm out from under the blanket (and Mammon’s hold) to wipe your face. “I’m fine really, it’s just”, you sniffle, but Mammon cuts you off.

“Ya clearly not, c’mon MC”, he says, oceanic eyes meeting yours and - it’s hard not to crack under that gaze. “Tell me what’s the matter, please.”

Mammon stares at you in silence, signaling that it’s your turn to talk, and he would quietly listen. As long as you trust him, he’d always listen to whatever it is you have to say, no matter what.

You sit up a little straighter, pulling your arm out from under the comforter to wipe your tears. Composing yourself, you look into his eyes. His face softens at the sight.

Clearing your throat you start, “I don’t know. I’ve just been so overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed with what? All that work Lucifer and Lord Diavolo keep pushin’ on you? Tell ‘em to shove it!”

You shoot him a dangerous look. “We both know I can’t do that.”

“Sure ya can, I do it all the time!”, Mammon proudly declares, making you smile brightly and chuckle.

“And you always end up hanging from the rafters”, you laugh.

“I never said I got away with it”, he replies, smiling just as brightly back.

Your giggle peters out as you begin to speak again. “I’ve got so much more work to do and so little time to do it”, you frown. “And I’ve been pushing myself really hard! And- I dunno. I guess it’s taking a toll on me.”

“Yeah, Asmo said you were havin’ it pretty rough.”

At the mention of Asmo’s name, you shoot upwards in shock.

“He told you?!”

“Course he did. Did ya forget which ones of us you can trust with secrets?”.

You grumble in anger. “That little - UGH! I’m gonna kill him.”

“Let’s put murder on the back burner,” Mammon says, pushing your shoulder to lay you back down in your slouching position. “How’s ‘bout ya tell me what’s really bothering’ ya and I’ll help ya threaten the primadonna later, yeah?”.

You give him the side eye, but collapse under his gaze. Curse those eyes! You swear he can put you under some kind of truth spell with those things.

“Fine. I guess… it’s just… I…”

“Any day now, Treasure.”

You make an exasperated noise and glare at him. “You know it’s not fair to use that word on me when I’m upset.”

“When you’re upset at me. And yer not upset at me right now, right? Please say right”, he finishes his sentence with a sense of urgency, now worried that he could be the cause.

He’s wracking his brain for anything he could have said or done recently that made you upset. Are you mad at him cause he teased you the other day when you did your makeup differently. He told ya he only did it cause he liked it. Are you mad because he cheated off of you in potions class? Well, he’s your first, dammit! You should be helping him anyways. That’s what a loyal subject does.

“No, no it’s not you. I just haven’t been feeling very good about myself lately.”

“What! That’s ridiculous!”, he shouts and - he’s trying to be helpful in his own way, but his raising voice makes you wince. He notices, quickly shifting his tone. “I mean, what’s there not to like, doll.”

You smile to yourself at the nickname. He’s trying his hardest to be sweet. You should try your hardest to let him in on your thoughts a bit too.

“I don’t like the way I look. I’m not pretty, I’m not cool, I don’t even know what you see in me.”

“Don’t be dumb, MC!”

“Mammon, look at you! You’re you. You’re one of the seven demon lords of hell, you’re a whole model, and you’re one of the coolest guys I’ve ever met - Devildom, Human Realm, or celestial! You know you’re hot, so I’m worried…”, you trail off quietly.

“Worried bout what, MC?”, he asks at your hesitance, worry evident in his eyes. He places his hand on top of yours on the bed without breaking eye contact.

“…I’m worried that one day you’ll realize you’re too good for me and leave.”

“Leave? Whaddaya talkin’ about? How would I leave? I live here too ya know”, he says, poking your nose.

“You know what I mean, Mammon”, you say swiping his hand away from your face. “You’ll leave me.”

Mammon rolls his eyes, waving a hand towards your direction dismissively. “Oh yeah, I’ll leave you alright. That’s exactly why I was waitin’ for ya at the door for an hour to take ya on a date. Cause I wanna leave ya soooo bad. Do ya see how ridiculous you sound?”.

You sigh, eyes looking towards the bedsheets as you play with his hand that has found its way back to yours. You don’t look up as you speak. “See, I didn’t even come down for our date. Or text you. I just moped around up here. Im a terrible partner. And I’m sure you’re gonna realize it soon.”

Mammon makes a ‘tch’ noise with his tongue, before grabbing you by the chin and making you look into his eyes, making you gasp in surprise.

“And ya think I’m such a great boyfriend, huh? I’m just the best? The guy who spends his free time at the casino runnin’ up scams? The guy who used ta blame his screw ups on ya to get outta trouble? Yeah MC, I’m a real peach. Cream of the crop if ya ask me”, he lectures, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“What are you trying to say”, you question, grabbing his wrist to take his hand off your chin, to which he carefully obliges.

“I’m sayin’ that I’m not so great myself. But you still love me, right?

“Yeah, and?”

“Exactly. I’ve got flaws, we’ve all got flaws, even father had flaws, clearly”, he mumbles the last part under his breath.

“I wouldn’t stop lovin’ ya over any dumb thing like looks or status. In fact, I can’t think of a single reason why I’d stop lovin’ ya, ya dumb human. Sorry ‘boutcha luck, but yer stuck with The Great Mammon forever”, he jokes, ruffling your hair.

“What about when I die? I’m human, you’ll outlive me by a long shot. Don’t you want to be with someone, I don’t know, with the same…life span as you?”

“Nah, I’ll still love your dumbass skeleton when you’re a stupid ghost.”

“How romantic.”

“Listen. My point is I’m yours and you’re mine. That ain’t changin’, alright? And I’m not mad ‘bout our date, we’ll reschedule it. Just next time, ya could let me know before I stand by the front door for over an hour like a jackass. My brothers got enough to make fun of me over already.”

He pulls a little smile out of you with that last one.

“And about all that student council junk Lucifer and Lord Diavolo keep thrown’ on ya, I’ll talk to them. Maybe they’ll let you divide it up between all of us, alright?”.

You sniffle, wiping your face once more and shaking your head in an affirmative nod. “Sounds good. Thank you, Mams. I’m sorry.”

“C’mon now, quit yer apologizin’. It’s fine. You apologize for somethin’ like that again, I’m tellin’ Beel you ate his pudding from Madam Screams.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I’ll dare alright, ‘n then some”, he jokes, tackling you to the bed. “Why don’t we watch a movie or somethin’. You gotta make up the lost date time you owe me.”

You laugh at his antics, agreeing. “Okay, okay. I’m on it.”

As you sit in front of your shared DVD collection to pick tonight’s selection, you throw your voice over your shoulder.

“Hey Mams?”

“Yeah?”, he asks from his spot on your bed, scrolling on his D.D.D.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, Treasure.”

[koolades-world]

Demons and Humans not understanding each other

Inspired by several other posts I read about this same thing <3 honestly even if the brothers insisted it was safe, I would consult Satan, Lucifer or Barbatos

this is mostly mammon freaking out

Humans think the deadliest things are like, adorable, like Cerberus. Mammon especially does not understand why Mc wants to run towards the very dangerous, very mad three headed dog. A few times he has had to throw Mc over his shoulder to keep them from staying behind

“MC CERBERUS BEING THE BEST BOY DOES NOT JUSTIFY HIS ACTIONS HE WANTS TO KILL US”

“But he’s so cute! He just needs a snuggle buddy”

Humans can also be very stubborn if they’re too hot or cold but refuse to admit it. It’s fine with Lucifer does it because he’s one of the most powerful and therefore resilient demons in Hell, but not so much when Mc does it. Beel and Mammon love playing in the Devildom snow, but given that it’s the Devildom, it’s definitely a lot colder than it is in the human realm. Even after ten layers, Mc is still freezing but refuses to admit it.

“Mc, are ya shivering? I thought ya would be too warm under all that”

“I’m sweating with this one jacket”

“I’ll live! Let’s go back to the snowman”

“no I don’t think you will”

On the same note, sometimes demons forget humans can’t withstand crazy temperatures. Asmo will invite Mc to a popular bathhouse, sauna or hot springs, forgetting that the temperature would literally boil Mc alive

“Hey Asmo this is the place you wanted to go, right?”

“Yes! Isn’t is cute?”

“Everything except the part where I boil alive”

“what!”

Some foods can kill humans just by being near them so imagine how the brother would feel when they learned this, it’s giving that lunatic pudding incident with Diavolo from that one card

“Mc! You’ll love this. Open wide!”

“Asmo I feel funny”

“DO NOT FEED MC THE TAKEOUT LUCIFER SAID ITS DEADLY FOR HUMANS IN LARGE AMOUNTS”

“FUCK NOT AGAIN”

In retrospect, humans probably sleep a lot compared to demons. Some demons probably don’t sleep at all, except Sloth demons. Setting aside about eight to nine hours of the day just to sit idly might not make sense to them until they learn they will shut down without it

“How are you feeling about the exam we just took? Exam week is finally over.”

“Mc? Mc, Satan is talking to you. Why are you on the floor”

“MY HUMAN IS DEAD”

“No, I think they’re just asleep idiot”

“oh. wait, THEYRE ASLEEP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HALL lucifer is gonna kill me”

I’d say both demons and humans are social creatures, but humans will go insane without social interaction. Yeah a demon would probably be upset if they didn’t talk to someone for thousands of years but I don’t think a human could last more than ten without losing grip on reality. Humans tend to copy each other, which is probably bizarre to demons. Humans don’t even understand yawning so demons definitely won’t

Going back to the food thing, demons can probably go ages without eating, besides Gluttony demons. Humans need to eat so frequently compared to them

“So you’re tellin’ me that if Mc doesn’t eat for a whole week, their insides start to eat themselves?!”

“Yes. But, Mc ate a few hours ago.”

(Mammon was already gone when Satan turned back around)

Demons probably also play game that would definitely kill humans. My brother and I used to play crazy games when we were little (our favorite game didn’t have a name but we would put Barbies in the toy train tracks and see what would happen when different Thomas and friends character would hit her. The train tracks would glow in the dark! I did not let him put my favorite doll in the train track and he had to listen since I was the older one, she was not a barbie and had bendy feet? that’s not for now) but we never seriously got at each other throats. I cannot imagine what games demons and demon children must play. Satan was born fully grown but imagine if he was born little and the brothers had to play his favorite games with him. I feel like they would find the Barbie game I played a little weird too. Like, they would probably tell me that I should’ve done it in real life since that would be better experience or something batshit like that

“Aww, Satan, do you remember all the times we played “Five minute eye stab” with Lucifer? You were so cute. Sometimes I think Luci let you win.”

“Do not talk to me Asmodeus.”

“I’m sorry, you played what?”

“One time we gave him an actual knife by accident and since he was good, he ended up stabbing Lucifer’s eye.”

“You’ll be next if you don’t shut up and let me read”

“HE WHAT”

“Oh he’s fine now, clearly. Only took him a few hundred years to regain normal eye functions”

“Can we not talk about this anymore?”

Babe it is a miracle Mc is still alive

[aajjks]

Desperado (m)

synopsis. There was no time for intimacy and jungkook learned the hard way.

warnings: MÄTÜRE THÈMÈS. YÄNDÊRÊ, DÄRK, mêntǐöns öf prẽgnâncy, mêntǐöns öf älmöst dy-ng dürïng chïldbïrth, obsěssïvè bëhävïöür, pössessïvênêss, jk ïs cräy cräy, cryïng, smüt (förëpläy), kïssïng, lüsty jk, he ïs jǔst hörny änd w-nts tö fück lmäo

note. I understand that this kind of a topic can be a sensitive topic for many of us, pregnancy is not something everyone is comfy reading about so viewer discretion is advised!

He never wanted you to get pregnant.

This was not supposed to happen,

Jungkook couldn’t help but glare at the tiny little sleeping human in the white crib as he sat right infront of it.

The baby’s chubby cheeks huffed as he took little breaths, a little hue of pink sprinkled over them.

how could he sleep so peacefully after ruining Jungkook’s life! Jungkook bit the inside of his cheeks in jealousy.

This tiny little brat has already taken you away from him. You were Jungkook’s only happiness but now ever since you gave birth, you are obsessed with this little devil.

You have forgotten about Jungkook completely. He who was the reason you got pregnant in the first place!

Jungkook regretted doing that… why can’t he ever control his lust when it comes to you, and now his lust was the result of the baby who was sleeping so peacefully right infront of him.

And now, here he is after so many sleepless nights to watch over the baby while you were busy showering. You are really paranoid and possessive when it comes to the child and it’s safety.

And you have made jungkook promised that he’s going to watch over the baby while you tend to your business.

Jungkook’s head hurts so much. When was the last time you guys had sex? He can’t even remember. It’s all gone now.

You have been snatched away from him and he can’t do anything! Jungkook will never understand why you wanted to have this baby anyways?!? You guys together were already perfect.

And not to forget that you both are still so young, and there was no need to hurry.

This child is a devil and you fail to see that! Having this baby almost killed you, your fragile self was not ready for it, Jungkook hated him so much, so fucking much.

But you have always so stubborn.

Your maternal side was something that Jungkook used to adore, because you were always so loving and caring towards him.

But now? Now that you were an actual mother, you completely neglect your boyfriend. Jungkook huffs in annoyance as the thoughts run through his mind.

You always wanted to become a mom.

His glare never left the baby who was soundly asleep, it was unfair that how much he looked like Jungkook, anyone could tell that that was his son.

It was undeniable. The baby even stole his face!

Jungkook hates his child so much!

Jungkook hated children, he always despised the idea of someone else coming in between you, you were always supposed to be his and only his!

Jungkook is a needy person and he knows that… he needs your love and attention like a little child, he is addicted to you, and now that his addiction isn’t being satisfied.

He is starting to lose his sanity.

“Y/N…” Jungkook whines into your warmth as he feels your fingers scratch his head, his warm breath hitting your tummy as his hands grabs wrap around it, his legs are resting onto yours as the man is on top you, laying so peacefully and your scent is calming his mind and your touch feels so good, His eyes are closed as he snuggles deeper and deeper into you.

Your hair is still wet, and you smell so fresh.

God… you smell so good, how much he’s missed this… you.

“Y/N…. I miss you so much..” You hear Jungkook speak in a broken tone, like he is so tired. “You don’t pay me any attention anymore, you don’t care for me anymore…” he cries, his head shaking to the sides, as he lifts his face up from your belly. “I need you so much… you don’t even make love to me anymore!”

He whines again, complaining as he looks into your eyes while you look at him with confusion, Jungkook stares at your face, he notices the tiredness, your eyes are absolutely tired, dark circles present. “Please love me too! You only care about him!” He groans as he nuzzles his face in your neck.

It tickles because hes breathing so heavily.

“When was the last time you touched me, do you even remember Y/N? Fuck… I ache for your touch on my body… please.” He could barely whisper, but his tone changes to a seductive one as he presses light butterfly kisses on your neck. You close your eyes as your heart clenches in guilt when you hear the desperation in his voice.

Even though he’s complaining most of the time, but he’s not completely wrong.

It is true that you have been neglecting him, heck, you love your baby so much that you have forgotten about Jungkook.

“I’m sorry baby… you are right… I’m sorry… but I’ve been so tired ever since… Ji-Hwan came into our lives… I’ve been super focused on him- “B-But what about me yn?” he cut you off, eyebrows furrowing as he removes his head from your neck, and he is glaring at you, “I should be your first priority!” Jungkook harshly says but when he sees you getting shocked at his sudden change in demeanor.

And now he feels guilty.

so his eyes soften, and he apologizes,

“But I can’t really blame you because you are so tired… please, let me make you feel good… you look like you need it.” Jungkook gets up from your body and takes your hand and guides it towards his crotch.

You gasp as you feel it.

“See? I’ve been so needy for you that your touch got me all hard… please kiss me, can I have a kiss now? Baby don’t you think that I deserve it?” Jungkook’s eyes are dark, hey bites his lower lip, eyes filled with lust, as he leans close to your face stopping his rambling.

He looks at your body, and he notices the dress that you’re wearing. It’s cruel how much you look good in that dress, it’s so simple yet so sexy.

Your lips were only a centimetre apart, until Jungkook connected them together, your lips immediately melt into his.

Jungkook doesn’t waste a second to take your breath away by sliding his tongue inside your mouth, exploring it, his tongue hitting every corner of your mouth.

His hands grab onto your breasts as he squeezes them, moaning into your mouth, his kiss only gets more feverish as he starts to grind close to your heat.

You moan lightly at the fraction, as he presses his lips to yours harder, moaning again.

“F-Fuck… you feel so good baby… need you now..” he cries, voice all breathy and you can’t help but whine in response, your body feels so hot.

His husky voice sends shivers down your spine, he pushes you into the bed as your lips finally disconnect after what felt like hours.

Jungkook quickly takes off his shirt as he climbes on top of you, impatient and hungry.

His hand plays with the strap of your floral dress, but it’s been so long that his warm hands feel so cold and, foreign to you. “Fuck fuck fuck!” He curses in excitement as he pulles you in another kiss.

Your lips connecting together once again, Jungkook groans in desire. His strong hands grip on your shoulders so tightly that you welp in pain.

“Sorry baby can’t really contain myself… I need to be inside you so bad!” His voice was laced with lust, he was almost crying, his apology is rushed.

But as soon as his hands are between your legs, his fingers taking your panties off, you’re waiting in anticipation, And he’s almost taken them off,

I can’t believe that he’ll finally get to have sex with you after so long. His heartbeat is so loud and he is so impatient but then the luck isn’t really on his side, because you guys hear the baby monitor beep, and your senses awaken immediately in realisation.

“Jungkook get off! He’s awake, he must be hungry!” You push the man off you as you quickly get up,

Not giving a chance for Jungkook to react or even comprehend, what just happened now, he’s watching you with shock in his eyes,, you exit the room while fixing your dress before, he can call out your name.

And behind you, Jungkook cries, cussing out loudly, growling,

“FUCK MY LIFE.” with a raging boner.

[stvrnzcherries]

BRUTAL

c. sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: Chris got into a fight with his girlfriend Paige and you comforted him until things led to another...

warnings: dom!chris, angst, smut, fingering, degrading kink, make out, pet names, cheating, alcohol, use of y/n, throwing up, toxic relationship.

not proofread!

౨ৎ

You were at a house party that a few friends of the triplets organized. You were near the drinks table with Nick and Madi while Matt, Chris, and his girlfriend Paige were on the other side of the house. The thing is that you’re drunk right now and you can't help but stare at Chris, the way he caresses Paige's waist, the way he leans to whisper dirty little things to her, you want that, you want to be the one that he says those things, you want to be the one he can touch, love, crave for.

And it killed you that she was perfect and you felt like you would never be like her.

Little did you know...

“Y/n!” Nick snaps you out of your trance waving a hand across your face.

“Sorry, sorry! What were you saying?” You asked while you kept glaring at Chris’ direction.

“Do you want to play beer pong with us?” He asked once again

You nodded and that's when you saw Chris leaving with Paige upstairs.

Ouch.

This shouldn't be affecting you this much, but it hurts like hell. You can’t even recall when you started to feel this way about him, but it drove you crazy.

“Sure, but I kinda need some water…” And that’s when you felt it, your stomach turning, feeling the lump forming in your throat, this was the moment where your decision to get drunk would make you suffer the consequences for it. Kneeling on the floor, wrapping your arms around your stomach, feeling the acid making you gag, your first instinct was to pick up your cup and throw up on the inside, If you were going to humiliate yourself, the least you could do was to not make a mess on the fucking floor.

Feeling the sensation wear off slightly after literally throwing up your intestines (or at least that’s how it felt) you tried to stand up. Failing miserably, causing Nick and Madi to pick you up and rest your left arm around Nick’s shoulders and your right arm on Madi’s shoulders, trying to carry you to the bathroom as fast as they could.

Chris' POV

I went upstairs with Paige since she needed to talk to me. I think I’ve never felt so anxious in my life as I do right now. That’s when we got there and the conversation in reality was just Paige complaining about a trip I was going on with my brothers in a few days. “I just don’t understand why can’t you stay here with me!” she yelled.

“I already told you a few weeks ago that I’m not canceling another trip with my brothers just because you feel like not letting me go, you’re not my fucking mother to tell me where I can go or not, what I can do or not! Because guess what, Paige, I can do the fuck I want.” I snapped back, making Paige turn around and slap me harshly, leaving a red mark across my cheek.

I held my cheek, not feeling slightly shocked anymore since this started way back ago, I could tell by her face that she regretted it instantly.

“Chris, baby…” she tried to place her hand on the spot where she marked, making me pull away from her touch.

“And now you just gave me more reasons to go on that fucking trip,” I added between sobs, trying to hold back the tears, turning my back to her.

"Please, don't leave me… I can fix this..." She gripped my arm.

"As far as I remember, you mentioned the same thing last time we fought." The resentment showed up in my voice, but I couldn't help it. How could someone so perfect turn into a complete monster? How can someone hurt someone they love?

And when I left the room, I would rather not see her face or hear her voice.

Y/n’s POV

You were in the bathroom throwing up while Madi was making you a ponytail and Nick rubbed your back. This night couldn’t get any worse. “Shit,” Nick murmured as you let your head rest on his shoulder, feeling way better than how you were.

“What?” Madi asked, her voice sounding tense.

“Matt just texted me we’re leaving right now.” You sat up straight, panicking, “What do you mean? I thought we all agreed to go until 1:00 AM…”

He scratches the back of his neck, “Yeah, well, there’s a change of plans.”

You checked your phone, and it was only midnight, “You guys should convince Matt if we can go in 30 minutes?”

They looked at each other and then back at you, “We won’t leave you here, y/n.”

“I’ll be fine, guys don’t need to worry about me.” You smiled at both of them.

Nick shook his head. “I’ll just text Chris to ask him if he can try to convince Matt to let us stay a little longer.” He spoke as he started to type on his phone. “We’re not leaving you here alone, end of the conversation.”

"Alright, Dad," you replied jokingly, having as a response an eye roll from Nick as he was about to laugh.

Thirty minutes had passed, and the three of you were still inside the bathroom waiting for Chris’ answer. “Did he text you already?” You asked as you rinsed your mouth with some mouthwash to get rid of the disgusting sour taste you had.

"Yes, and he's giving me a headache already!" Nick answered as he kept texting back and forth with whom you supposed was Chris, "He won't stop being a fucking baby, and it's bitch complaining to me that Matt keeps insisting that we have to go now."

"Well...maybe we should try to—" You got interrupted by a knock on the bathroom door, you all looked at each other confused.

As you open the door, you see a long-haired brunette and a pair of pretty blue eyes.

It was Chris. His eyes seemed puffy and a little red as if he were crying. “Is Nick here?” Anger was plastered on his face.

That’s when Nick stood up and opened the bathroom door, “What the fuck, Chris? Can’t you do a simple task?” causing Chris to scoff “And you clearly can’t read. I texted you back saying that Matt didn’t give a shit about you guys needing more time. He wants to go now.”

“Did you explain to him that y/n is not feeling well right now?” Nick snapped back, crossing his arms.

Chris rubbed his face with both his hands before scanning your entire face. “Isn’t she okay now?”

“Chris! She could barely walk by herself a few minutes ago, why’s is it so hard for you to do a fucking favor and ask our brother to give us some time?!” Nick answered, his voice rising.

“Because I don’t understand why the fuck you guys need more time, y/n look completely fine, and you’re making a huge fucking deal out of it!” Chris’ voice also got a little louder.

“Because it will be a fucking huge deal when she’s throwing up all over the fucking car!” He shouted.

Chris’ jaw clenched.

“Then why don’t you ask Matt, since it’s such a big deal, huh?”

“Fine, I’ll fucking go and instead you and y/n will stay here while Madi and I sort this out since it’s so difficult for you.” Nick left the bathroom, Madi following his pace as Chris moved out of the way so they could get out.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to—” Chris shut the door behind him and looked at you, tears forming in his eyes. Your first instinct was to hug him.

He just cried as silently as he could. You guessed that alcohol hits him differently than it does to you. He dragged you closer by wrapping his arms around your waist, and you began to stroke his hair. “Everything’s going to be alright, Chris.”

“No, it’s not, I’m a fucking burden to everybody and,” His sobs getting louder than before. “First, I fought with Paige and now Nick.”

You pulled back to look at his face, pulling his chin up so he could look at you, “You’re not a burden to no one, Chris.” You said, “You’re like the sun, and when the sun comes out, everyone smiles.” You kept talking, caressing his right cheek with your thumb, “Besides, whatever you and Paige fought about was just because she was drunk, it’ll pass.”

He just nodded and then rested his face on the crook of your neck and kept crying a little.

A few minutes had passed, you and Chris were sitting on the bathroom floor, laughing and talking a little.

“You know, If I’m being honest…I kind of envy Paige.” You said while looking up at the ceiling.

“Why?” Chris replied, furrowing his brows slightly

“Because she’s so beautiful and I’m not…” You admitted.

“Well that’s not true, you are really beautiful too.” He looked at you and smiled.

Beautiful, he called you beautiful.

A buzz sound came from Chris’ phone, he picked it up and looked at the screen. “It’s Nick.”

“What he said?”

“Matt accepted to stay a little more.”

“Excellent! This means I can finally get out of this bathroom.” You stood up and fixed your dress a bit, offering a hand to Chris.

He took your hand and stood up, as he was looking at you. His eyes shifted from your eyes to your lips.

And that’s when you noticed how your faces were just inches apart, feeling his breath hitting your face softly. “Chris…”

“Y/n…”

His palms were resting now on your cheeks, your mouths almost touching, “Do you want to kiss me, hm?” He suggested, grazing his lips against yours teasingly, causing you to shiver a little.

Of course, you wanted it, but was it right? Will he regret it? Will you regret it?

Something snapped you back from reality, cold hands running on your lower back down to your ass, gripping it slightly, “I asked you something.” His voice shifted to a demanding tone.

Fuck it.

You crush your lips against his. At first, it was sloppy, both fighting for dominance, he kept his grip on your ass, gripping it harder. Making you gasp.

And that’s when he gets the chance to slide his tongue inside your mouth, taking control of the kiss. Your body pressed against the cold marble sink that was right behind you, his hands now resting on the sides of your hips. Chris picked you up from your thighs and sat you up on the bathroom sink. Lifting your dress to reveal your black laced panties.

His hand snaked down to your inner thigh. His kisses lowered from your mouth to your jaw and then to your neck. His fingers finally got to your heat, your panties soaking wet. “You’re so wet for me.” He whispered, causing you to whimper a bit. He pulled your panties to the side and began to rub in circles your sensitive nub, whimpers coming out of your mouth. Shaking breaths, your hands gripping on the sink, your knuckles getting white.

“You fucking like that, don’t you?” Chris asked through gritted teeth, applying more pressure on your clit. You nodded but that made things worse, “You better use your fucking words, y/n. Or else I’ll stop and leave you all alone.”

“Y-yes, I l-like i-it.” You handled letting out. Chris smirked and kept stroking your clit. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back, your head resting against the mirror wall, feeling the wave of pleasure consuming you. “Fuck…”

But then, the pleasure stopped. You opened your eyes and looked at Chris, he was smirking at you while he sucked his fingers, guiding them back to your throbbing pussy. Slipping them inside you, painfully slow. Your walls clench around his fingers, your legs squeezing with each other, a loud gasp coming out from you. Chris began to pick up his pace, thrusting his fingers in and out of you “Just like that, keep making those pretty noises for me like a good girl.” He groaned, intensifying his speed with each thrust.

He looked down where his fingers were working their way to bring you over the edge, you let pornographic moans out of your mouth, giving Chris what he wants.

Control.

“You look so fucking pathetic right now.” He grabbed your chin with his free hand and forced you to see him, his eyes darkened and full of desire. “Don’t you think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me? You fucking slut.” Chris whispered to you, pumping his fingers mercilessly in and out of you. “You wanted this? You wanted me to finger you?”

You nodded desperately, feeling the well-known knot forming inside of you, you were about to come. “I-I’m so c-close,” you mumbled. “What was that?” He gripped your chin tighter. Your hands grasp tighter on the bathroom sink, your climax getting closer and closer with each thrust. “Don’t stop, fuck.” You spat, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt finally getting to the edge.

“I won't.” He replied, getting closer to leave a few hickeys on your collarbone and the crook of your neck. That's when you felt your release “Fuck!” a loud moan coming out from you, your walls clenching around Chris’ fingers. Your juices flooded all over his fingers. Chris took out his fingers, a popping sound as he did. Your chest goes up and down violently, and your breath is heavy.

He looked at his fingers then at you, “Open your eyes, now.” You open your eyes slowly to get the view of Chris cleaning out his fingers until there isn't a single drop of your juices around his fingers. “You taste so fucking good, ma.”

What the fuck was going on tonight.

You were in the backseat with Nick and Madi, gossiping about tonight's party “It was fun.” Nick admitted.

“Yeah, I think I’m not going to parties anymore,” Matt added.

And there was Chris, glancing at you a few times before they left you at your apartment.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, alright?” You said to them as you waved at them.

You're finally in a quieter place, where you can think about what just happened tonight with Chris.

It finally happened, you finally got what you wanted with Chris and even more.

But it wasn’t enough, you craved for more.

But then, reality hits.

He was still with Paige, and you were just a distraction to him.

Or that’s what you thought until…

You got a text from someone.

It was Chris.

౨ৎ

a/n: not the best one-shots ever but here you go!!! Lmk if there’s any mistakes!

Tag list: @sturniolossss @tillies33ssss @chrisloyalgf @alorsxsturn

[btsvt-bar]

off my face

pairing ꩜ fuckboy!wonwoo x afab!reader

sequel to this drabble, read it first to understand their dynamics ♡

warnings ꩜ smut, mdni!, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, belly cumshot.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

fuckboy!wonwoo who’s obviously whipped, but won't admit to it. when you say your hookup was a one time thing, he gets lowkey upset, but pretends he doesn’t care.

fuckboy!wonwoo who stops following you around like a puppy. he misses being around you, but he’s stubborn and decides it’s for the best if he takes some time away to get over you.

fuckboy!wonwoo who gets really drunk at this one frat party and kisses some random girl. in his head, he pretends it’s you. however, it’s not as good as it was with you on your night together.

you see the pathetic scene from across the room and roll your eyes at him. if you’re being honest, you expected him to chase after you. so you’re kinda disappointed when he walked away.

Nayeon sees your sour expression and nudges you lightly. "You should’ve told him how you feel" your sunbae comments while you take a large sip from your beer.

"He’s not interested, I chose well when I decided to keep my mouth shut" you reply before turning your back, deciding you had enough of Wonwoo drama for the night.

fuckboy!wonwoo who scans the room to see if you were watching. He feels his blood boiling when the realizes you’re chatting with his friend DK at some secluded corner.

fuckboy!wonwoo who leaves the party. You really ruined the night for him.

fuckboy!wonwoo who locks himself in his room for the rest of the weekend. It’s been a while since he played so much videogames, but he needed the distraction.

fuckboy!wonwoo who sees you walking around campus with DK by your side. he feels so fucking jealous when he sees you laughing and smiling so cutely at Dokyeom.

It’s Friday night and you’re at another frat party. You’re outside chilling with DK by the pool, with your legs inside the warm water.

"Have you noticed he’s obsessed with you?" DK points out, grabbing your attention from whatever Mina was saying.

"Who?" You play dumb.

"Wonwoo" the brunette sips from his cup. "He can’t stop looking our way".

You shrug. "He doesn’t care, he’s made it clear".

DK scoffs, sporting an incredulous look. "You don’t possibly believe that".

"I do" you try to convince yourself more than DK.

"Want me to prove you wrong?" DK smiled slyly. "How about we kiss? You’ll see he’ll lose his shit".

You analyze the boy by your side, from his prominent nose, cute crescent-shaped eyes and large smile. Dokyeom is handsome, eager to kiss you and you honestly would like to kiss him too.

"I’m not a home wrecker" you say, thinking about preserving DK’s and Wonwoo’s friendship.

"We don’t live together." That’s all it takes for you to throw your best sense out the window and pull DK in for a heated kiss.

fuckboy!wonwoo who sees the exact moment you kiss his friend. He lets his beer cup fall from his hand, wetting his and Jeonghan’s sneakers.

"What the fuck?!"

Jeonghan follows his gaze and lets out an amused laugh. "Looks like our Kyeomie got what we all wanted!"

fuckboy!wonwoo who gets up early the next morning and goes straight to your dorm. He spent the night raging and came to realize he likes you and wants to be with you.

fuckboy!wonwoo who knocks on your dorm door and wakes you up. Your hair’s disheveled and your eyes are barely open when you answer it.

"Wonwoo? Did something hap-"

"I like you, Y/N. I really, really, like you and it killed me to see you with someone else last night" he cuts you off and spits out his confession before he could chicken out.

You blink slowly, your face scrunched up in a confused expression. "You what?"

"I like you. I lied when I said that night was a one time thing for me, because it wasn’t. I only said that because you said it first".

"I only said that because I thought that’s what you wanted". You notice some people are crowding the hallway, listening to your conversation. "It’s better if you come in".

fuckboy!wonwoo who shuts the door behind him. Your roommate is nowhere to be seen, and it makes him feel more comfortable.

"Look, me kissing DK meant nothing. It was a dumb idea, I didn’t want to hurt you".

"It’s ok. I was — well, am — jealous, but it’s ok" His cheeks tint red at his confession. "But you can make it up to me".

fuckboy!wonwoo who basically jumps you when you allow him to. He gets you both naked in no time, sliding between your legs and kissing down your body.

fuckboy!wonwoo who eats you out diligently, licking and sucking on your lower lips and clit with enough expertise to make you see white in no time. He keeps teasing your fluttering whole with his thick fingers, but never gives you what you want.

fuckboy!wonwoo who can’t wait to get inside you and turns down a blowjob. "We can do that later" he promises and he positions himself at your entrance.

He pushes in slowly, making you both moan out loud. You’re sure everyone is listening to what you’re doing, but you honestly don’t give a damn.

When Wonwoo bottoms out, his hips move hard and quickly.

fuckboy!wonwoo who grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers. You smile brightly and, with your free hand, pulls he in for a loving kiss.

fuckboy!wonwoo who makes you cum first before letting himself go. He pulls out and empties his balls on your stomach, you’re so spent that you don’t even mind.

He falls by your side on your small bed, sparing a few moments to catch his breath. He lays so still you think he fell asleep, but he sits up and asks "Do you have wet wipes?"

fuckboy!wonwoo who cleans you up and helps you get dressed again. He puts his dark blue boxers back on and cuddles you, feeling his eyelids weighting a thousand pounds.

"Nonu?" you call him by the nickname only you used. "Yeah, pretty?"

"What are we?" you ask with a shy tone. You needed to be sure, so you could rest. Wonwoo gets up on his elbow to look at you before answering:

"Boyfriend and girlfriend." He states. "But give me a few hours so I can ask you properly. You deserve something better than this".

fuckboy!wonwoo who nearly melts down when you smile so prettily at him. You kiss him again, feeling super happy.

Wonwoo lays down again and pulls you close to his chest, almost instantly falling asleep with you on his arms.

fuckboy!wonwoo who sneaks out to buy flowers, chocolate and a huge bear so he can officially ask you out.

The next day, everyone is talking about how the shy angel managed to tame the infamous fuckboy.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

© btsvt-bar, 2024

m.list ♡