#more like maroon-ish

[justareallyboredfangirl]

my heels have been raw for a WEEK now from the flats i wore to my interview last week. i had to go out, get a decent looking outfit JUST for it, had to put on some makeup -i don’t wear makeup-, had to buy a cheap ass pair of dress shoes from walmart to go with it, couldn’t just show up in my old tennis shoes… only to get there and for all the guys i was up against to be wearing jeans and their tennis shoes like they just came from the gym- and MOST of them got the job. every single woman in there was dressed nice, hair done, modest yet professional clothes, PRESENTABLE. and almost every guy was dressed like they just came from a bar. idk.

they tell you not to have blue hair or visible tattoos or piercings “BeCaUsE nO oNe WiLl HiRe YoU!!” and so you never dye your hair like you want to, you dress nice, you put effort into your appearance for this one day, you wear uncomfortable shoes that shred your heels and you have to wear bandaids for the next week, you give your most thoughtful answers to the interview questions, and it still might not be enough. meanwhile Mr Burger Grease Stained Shirt McGee beside you in his beat up sketchers bullshitted all his answers and landed the job

#i shouldnt still be thinking about it. but i just had to change my bandaids AGAIN and my heels dont look like theyre getting better at all #theyre still raw #it was a group interview and the only other lady in there didnt get the job #only a couple guys out of thr entire pool for my time slot were dressed Nice #like not in their every day casual clothes. one guy wore a marble looking maroon suit jacket which i respect the hell out of #he got the job. #but almost everyone else was in casual wear. hell I was the only girl in pants!! business type pants but still #ALL the women were dressed up. only a few of us made it through #a lot more effort was put in on our part. and yet #idk. im not trying to articulate any specific point here. just kinda cant stop thinking #about how none of the guys are having to wear bandaids on their heels for a week #after their 4 hour interview process #i was only in the damn things for 4 hours. from start to the time i already had the job and drug tested it was only ~4 hours #just my life #vent #im not complaining that they got the job…its just the fact that they didnt put half the effort into looking presentable as we did yknow? #why did i have to put concealer on to be taken seriously. why couldnt i have gone in in my old tennis shoes and still gotten the job #because LAST time i went in for the same interview i DIDNT wesr makeup #and i DIDNT wear flats. i went in in my tennis shoes and formal-ish pants and a sweater and didnt get the job #im not saying how i dressed this time is what did get me the job…but i know that i put more effort into looking the part of an interviewee #this time and i did get the job. so idk. did it make a difference? it was the only thing i did different this time so i have to think it did #idk. i guess i just would like to see the same amount of effort put in. either that or dont make ME put in so much effort. #let me show up in MY casual wear and MY comfortable shoes. #idk. my heels hurt and its annoying

[simonrileysfavteacup]

The Morning After

Paring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x wife!reader

Word count: 700 ish?

Warnings: Mentions to sex, hickeys, naked people, Simon wanting you for breakfast

Summary: The morning after a steamy night.

Sunlight creeps in through the curtains you never closed last night. The curtains fly around the room, pushed by the daring wind. The window’s are still open, letting in the chirps of birds outside. The wind pushes a breeze around the room and you shiver.

You’re laying on your right shoulder. There’s a heavy arm that isn’t yours draped across your waist. There’s a head tucked into the crook of your neck. There’s another forearm underneath your head. There’s someone’s heavy breathing going straight into your neck. You can feel a bit of stubble. You can feel hair, long, soft hair. You can feel a strong chest against your back. All of it is memorized in your mind.

And there’s only one person in the whole world who’s body you know inch by inch. 

You squint as you open your eyes, the sunlight almost killing you. The duvet is all messed up, barely covering your tangled bodies. His right arm is underneath your head, draped off your side of the bed. His grip on your waist is loose, he’s still asleep. His breathing is even, you can feel it. 

You push yourself out of bed slightly, making a move to shut the window and close the curtains. He grabs onto your waist tightly and pulls you back into the position you were in before. His voice is raspy, almost not even there, as he says, “Five more minutes.”

It should be illegal. His voice. His hair. His chest slowly falling and rising. It should be illegal to look this fucking good in the morning.

“Just wanna close the window,” You reply, keeping your voice hushed. 

“Who gives a shit?” He pulls the duvet higher over you, covering your naked body from the wind. “There. Now, give me 10 more minutes.”

His hand goes back to your waist, covering the soft maroon and purple bruises that formed throughout the night. 

So, you lay back down, take in a deep breath, and try to fall asleep. 

At least an hour goes by before you finally wake up again. Your position hasn’t changed and Simon’s hold on your waist is loose again. You finally move, getting up from bed. He doesn’t pull you back this time, but rolls over. He lets out a groan. “Oh, shut up, you big baby. I gave you more than 10 minutes.”

He doesn’t respond. Just lets out another groan, but louder and longer.

You grab the shirt he wore last night, the one he threw into a random corner of the room, more focused on your body. You toss it into the hamper. His pants and boxers are thankfully close enough to the hamper, yours nowhere to be found. Guess he was a little too excited.

You walk into the bathroom, getting a fine look at yourself in the mirror.

Hickeys and the traces of fingertips line your neck and chest, your hips and legs are covered, and I mean covered, in bruises. On both sides of your hips are marks of large, muscular hands. The marks are red, and it doesn’t look like it’ll all fade in the next hour. You turn slightly, getting a look at your back. Your ass is marked the same way your hips are, with large hand prints, your back thankfully okay. 

“You’re hurt,” Simon’s voice is barely above a whisper as he stares at you from the bed. 

This happens every time he leaves a mark on you. He turns cold again, becoming distant in fear of hurting you again. Every single time. It takes so many words of encouragement to get him to open up again, assuring him it didn’t hurt. 

“They’ll fade,” You shrug.

“I hurt you,” He whispers. 

“No, you didn’t. Last night was probably one of the best nights of my entire life, love. Don’t you dare think I’m in any sort of pain or anything. I’m fine,” You smile at him. “And I left a fair share of marks on you. Look at your back.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, looking over at you again. “Promise?”

“Swear on my life,” You smile. “You want breakfast?”

“Mhm,” He hums, walking over to you and kneeling in front of you. “It’s already served.” Are his last words before diving in between your legs.

#simon riley fluff #simon riley #simon riley imagine #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #ghost call of duty #ghost simon riley #ghost imagine #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost x you

[seattlesellie]

dads best friend!abby scenario cause why the hell not.

cw: sexual themes mdni, age gap, abby’s a cocky but charming asshole, power dynamics-ish? : ・ෆ・┈・┈・ᕱ⑅ᕱ・┈・┈・ෆ・ :

— "Oh and honey? Doctor Anderson's coming over for dinner" Everything felt oppressively hot and everything felt impossibly tight. The food seared your tongue, humid steam rising from the vegetables on your plate causing your throat to constrict and your eyes to sting with tears. Your right hand was clenched in a tight fist, left hand gripping your fork like it might grow legs and run away if you let go of your grasp. Your tights were itching relentlessly, tank top strap kept sliding off of your shoulder and built itself a home down your arm. Your lipgloss felt too sticky and your palms too clammy, you felt agitated, uncomfortable and way too goddamn nervous.

You felt consumed.

You didn’t know why.

Sure, Doctor Anderson was attractive, with palms twice bigger than yours. She wore a tight fitted muscle tee that had you squinting then turning your head around fast enough to crack your neck, noticing a goddamn six pack poking through maroon fabric. And yeah, she had an intoxicating scent of pine and wood and a hint of pepper that made your eyes nearly roll back inside of your skull, voice silky smooth, thighs firm and muscular, eyes icy blue, a smile that made you melt and all that stupid jazz,

but none of these things were a good enough explanation to why you were feeling this way — dazed, stupid, all bothered.

She sat down on the dinner table’s leather chair in a manspread as if she owned the place, and her thighs bulked up even more, veins of her arms becoming more prominent. She always knew what to say, and when you cracked a joke about orthopedic surgeons she cheekily told you to “watch it” — which made you thickly gulp and sheepishly smile down to the floor like your idol from age thirteen just told you they want to marry you and have you forever.

You needed an ice bath, but she also wouldn’t stop goddamn looking at you, even when you made it clear that eye contact with the surgeon, your father’s best friend, was a task that you apparently couldn’t manage to complete.

Her look made you nervous, and when she narrowed her eyes you nearly choked on a carrot, and when your father asked you “What’s wrong, kid?” you couldn’t even answer because what was wrong — was that you had to cross your legs together cause of some aching down there, and what was wrong is that his best friend made you feel like you were losing your mind at 9pm with a fork glued to your palm.

So you lied.

“M’just... tired, I guess” you murmured, then fake yawned, then internally cringed at yourself for performing the worlds fakest goddamn yawn.

“Already?” he voiced, shifting his gaze towards a visibly amused Abby. “Quite the night owl, that one... usually”

"What can I say, dad, loooong day" answered you, with a syrupy voice she wanted to stick her fingers inside and lick.

Abby chuckled, then smirked at you even though the response wasn’t directed at her. Then, she looked over to your father who was gnawing on some overcooked steak.

“She’s a kid, needs to get her sleep”

You scoffed, which made doctor Anderson poke the inside of her cheek with her tongue. “What...?” she murmured cockily, cracking a toothy grin. Your tights felt tight again, glued to your hot flesh, then you realized why they fucking call them tights because dammit they really are tight.

“I'm not a kid, can, y’know... drink, and stuff. Plus... M'busy, with... College"

You sounded like a damn idiot. All Abby did was chuckle and tilt her head back slightly, leaning further back in her chair.

“T'aw, I know, What'ryou studying again? Fashion science?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. That bitch.

"Sorry I don't wanna go to medical school and spend seven years of my life sticking my hands down a corpse"

So you didn’t go to your room after that, caught up in a whirlwind of proving a point. You stayed stubbornly with your feet glued to the floor and listened to Abby and your father ramble and yap on about work shenanigans. Usually, you’d semi doze off at this point, go on your phone and occasionally throw a snarky remark, but this was different. She was different than any of his other friends. Abby was actually funny, she didn’t brag too much, and if she did it faded quick cause she really was that good.

Abby threw a reference to a book you thought no one else had read except for you. You timidly lifted your gaze and remarked, “Oh, i read that book, actually”

Abby smiled and flattened her hands on the wooden table. “Smart cookie, huh? Did you like it?”

You batted your eyelashes like a kitten seeking more strokes at the praise, not noticing that body language of yours.

But she did.

You talked about the book for a solid ten minutes. Your father was the one, surprisingly, to go on his phone and faux-snort when he felt excluded from the conversation ran by two intellectuals and a giant elephant who goes by the name of "Tension", in the middle of the room.

Abby made you laugh and she made you think and she listened to your anecdotes. It made you buzz with electricity, and it made you yearn for her attention.

it also made her long for yours.

Your father interrupted by showing Abby a picture from work. When her eyes lowered to his phone, she shot you a lingering gaze and a smirk. You, feeling a rush of heat to your cheeks, shyly looked away.

It was tight everywhere all over again.

So they talked more about work, Abby’s patients, their coworkers, Doctor Martha’s chicken pot pie, Doctor Johnson’s bizarre antics, the glass door no one bothered on calling to be fixed, blah blah blah, an endless stream of chatter.

And you listened, you listened with rapt attention, every ounce of your focus aimed at the prospect of another one-on-one conversation with Abby. Each time the older woman casted you with a quick glance, you flushed even harder. You waited, and waited and waited but your father was a blabber mouth, and you were oh so impatient,

you began mindlessly kicking the wooden table's legs.

Your sock-covered feet shifted restlessly from side to side, then you tucked them beneath your chair and resumed kicking, the movements gaining force. You curled your toes and continued to play with the table's handles. Abby winced, but you didn’t pay her any mind. You kicked again, with more force now.

You sighed.

Abby cleared her throat, and her cheeks suddenly bore a faint crimson blush. You couldn't help but notice, hm, must be the red wine finally catching on to her form. Ignoring, you kicked again, and the doctors back straightened and she stiffened in response. Your father asked her a question, and Abby… stammered.

“Yeah, that guys… uh— yeah”

You rested your chin on your hands and lightly tapped your fingertips against your cheeks thrice.

Then you kicked again, harder, you were bored and restless, waiting, give me some attention, Abby —

And then, you felt a pair of shoes encase your feet, ankles creating a cage around yours. It was then and only then that you had the startling realization: you hadn't been kicking the table at all. Instead, you had been unknowingly engaged in a game of footsies beneath the table with a goddamn world class surgeon.

And oh god did you want to die.

And oh god did abby sport a shit eating grin on her face that only you seemed to catch.

You froze, not even able to release your feet from her iron like grip. Unmistakably, she didn’t seem to release her grip either. So she kept them there, caged and locked.

“Alright,” your father sighed and cleared his throat. “Got some cuban cigars in the yard, shall we?” he gestured towards Abby, who was still holding your feet in her tight grasp.

“Yeah, go ‘head, I’ll just clear the table” she murmured absentmindedly. So kind and polite, huh?

You father chuckled and tapped abby on her shoulder, as he rose from his sit and straightened his back. “Nah, let the kid handle it”

Abby shot you a glance. Your pupils were dilated and your chest heaved rapidly up and down.

“She's not a kid, remember?”

Abby let go of your feet and you rose from the chair with such haste, you nearly had whiplash. When you lifted your plate, staying mute, looking like a deer caught in headlights as your father paced towards the yard, Abby gazed at you, and her eyebrow arched up in utter amusement.

“You uh, play soccer, by any chance?” quipped her, crossing her arms on her firm hard muscly chest.

You gulped.

“Huh?”

Abby lifted her wine glass to her lips, taking a sip that left a glistening sheen on her bottom lip. A chuckle escaped her.

“Jus’, y’know… with all the kicking, and everything. I mean, take a girl out for a drink before you do all that, yeah?”

You stood in shock, you didn’t speak, didn’t mutter a word, merely humming in response. Abby grabbed the plates from your hand, and then she grabbed the salt.

She furrowed her eyebrows and huffed. “M'just ’joking, smart cookie. If you wanna play, let's play"

Then you heard your father’s voice down the hall.

“Sweetheart?” he paced closer as Abby walked towards the sink. He leaned over the wall,

“forgot to mention it to you but, Abby’s staying over for the weekend”

#abby anderson fanfiction #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby smut #abby anderson x you #abby anderson drabble #dbf!abby #doctor!abby #abby anderson fic #abby anderson #tlou2 fic

[ceridescent]

carribean summer heat — m., wanda

wanda maximoff x female!reader

summary: it's a lovely sight to see wanda maximoff sweating and blushing due to the tropical heat. sometimes it's tricky, because one moment she looks like a baby, and the next, well...you could ask the particular group of people who...but you suppose not. it's impossible they could have seen the hot flush on her cheeks as she handled you then and there, out in the open.

warning/s: top!wanda, bottom!f!reader, dom/sub dynamics, thigh riding, dirty talk, semi-public, mommy kink, use of strap-on, creampie, & teasing.

word count: 4, 300

author’s note: hiiiiii hiiii hiiii i'm so happy i finally have some content to post on my rotting account. ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶ (i did have multiple drafts but i forgot tumblr existed 'cause i had off notifs the whole time since may.) it was a giddy, high school girl crush feeling of me to write this filthy fic. (/▽＼*)｡o○♡ i hope everyone's having a wonderful Hot Girl summer!! or a Hot Slutty summer, whichever you prefer. o(>ω<;)o

18+ only. men and minors do NOT interact.

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the sun rays barely strike your tanning skin, serving only as an illumination toward the breathtaking view of the caribbean sea as you situate on the patio.  

three ivory-colored recliner beach chairs are included in the rental villa, wherein you occupy one whilst the woman who flew a helicopter in saint-barthélemy island, makes piña coladas in the kitchen. a few hours ago you woke up earlier than her, and it was a relieving feeling, of hearing the rise and fall of her breath. a pink blush coated her entire face, unused to the tropical weather. hair stuck on the oval of her face, grinning at how baby-ish she looked. you didn’t bother rousing her though, as you were both selfish for being the sole witness of the rising sun behind the full glass window of the villa, and considerate to allow her more time to rest. 

not long after though, she woke up moaning your name, rubbing a whole limb on the empty space you left behind. 

“you left me,” wanda whined, her eyes glazed and her red lips pouty.

“they gave us fresh coconuts,” you purred, showing her the fruit. helping her sit up on the white mattress, you plant a chaste kiss on her cheekbone. this feels like a true vacation, you thought to yourself, appreciating the beach elements surrounding the entire villa, and the hard-to-miss view of the sea outside. although, the other thing that left you breathless was wanda’s bare breasts, the only clothing clinging onto her body was the thong she changed into right after she showered last night. 

you rested the open edge of the coconut in between her lips, “here,” tipping it upward so she could drink the coconut juice. wanda’s eyes fluttered close, a long and pronounced moan gracing your ears. she covered your hands with her own to hold the fruit, gulping the liquid into her parched mouth. she sighed as she finished, looking at you with a twinkle in her eyes. 

she suggested, “we can eat the insides for breakfast, honey,” bending low toward the bedside to fetch her matching bra. you blushed at the recollection of last night. “i’m sure they have some honey in the kitchen somewhere…” you added, watching the tips of her peaks disappear into view. 

wanda teased, “you like what you see?”, lightly slapping your face in the process in a playful manner. you tried to forget how her plump breasts felt in your hands as you suckled her dry, returning into the present moment of the beautiful day. 

“i would like to eat,” you diverted the topic back into the fruit in your hands, which wasn’t successful as wanda raised an amused brow, pursing her lips together to fight back a smile. you pointed to the coconut to counter her silent reproach, giving her a light blush. “get your head outta gutter, ma’am,” you said and retreated to the kitchen before she could come up with a witty remark, which you’d most likely shut her up with a kiss. 

wanda hums the tune from maroon 5’s sunday morning as she exits the indoor, clutching a wooden tray filled with food and replenishments. a board of charcuterie sits in the middle of the two piña coladas. you gasp at the precise detailing, “i’m not done,” blinking your eyes in anticipation, revealing a coconut with a straw strapped to the side. wanda caresses your hair, gives you a kiss on the forehead as you look up at her adoringly. “help yourself, angel,” she said before pecking your cheek. you mewl and melt at her service, appreciating the beautiful woman even more. 

the drinks are astounding, satisfying your thirst for something cool in this caribbean summer heat, as well as your insufferable stomach—literal paradise—blinding your attention away from the oval-rimmed eyeglasses, but most especially, her gorgeousness in a bikini. “is that-“

wanda maximoff grins like a cheshire cat, “yes, angel, it’s the one you picked for me!” sometimes wanda does it, she sends you a fitting room pic of her in bikinis—and if you were blessed enough—lingeries—needing a different perspective of what looks flattering on her.  

this particular bikini that clings onto her glistening skin is a green tie-front bandeau matched with a thin-string bikini bottom that leaves little to no imagination; highlighting the fullness of her hips down her voluminous thigh. her exposed tight stomach that has a small bruise on the side of her belly button, the heavy cups of her chest. you love how wanda never fails to wear something as if she was born with it and that it never leaves her skin. 

you don’t realize until later that your mouth hangs open watching wanda cozy herself onto the beach chair next to you, laying it all out for the sea to see. 

“oh,” you choke on your own spit, sight glued onto her cleavage. and if temptation could get any worse, sweat trickles down on the valley of it, getting envious (and more) of how close it is to where you want to be. stammering “you look-l-look-so look so marvelous, w-wan,” you gulp down your insistent saliva and grab the cool piña colada, biting hard on the straw as you sip in the flavor to replace the volcano on your tongue, before saying another that would jeopardize this peaceful, sunny day. (although it isn’t bad if it heads toward that direction.)

“you’re sucking so hard on it, princess,” wanda chuckles, “is it that tasty?” facing you now, leaning her weight against her right arm. her cleavage sag toward gravity, you fear it might actually fall off. short-circuiting for a moment, registering her question, her intention, and her innuendo. trying to calculate and rethink your response as you now, gently, sip the straw, sensing the coolness of your throat and skin, staring at the vast sea. 

you turn your gaze on her nose, so wanda would think that you are brave enough to have a staredown with her striking olive green eyes. then you take another hard sip, hollowing your cheeks in the process, at the same time moaning loudly, rolling your eyes back. “oh yes,” you sigh, “it tastes so good, wan! would you like some?”

she grins like a proud mother, “yeah,” reaching for the other glass but you swat her hand away. “nuh-uh,” you spurn, shaking your index finger whilst you stand up from the chair. you take three slow, deliberate steps sipping on the cocktail, not breaking eye contact with her. wanda watches every move in a relaxed position, however, her eyes carry primacy and eagerness—she’s like a hawk with it. 

you bat your eyes at her as you lower yourself down, dipping one knee on the beach chair in the open space of her glistening legs, at the same time resting the piña colada on the wooden tray. wanda scoots facing you, realizing what is up your sleeve. a shiver runs down your spine when she holds your love handles, positioning you in place. you swear to not have done anything but sit, like a moan, when she plops you down against her lap, her grip on your knees reluctant as if she’s trying not to clench on you too hard. 

wanda’s specs tumble out of place for a second ‘cause you clip the loose strands of blonde hair behind her ear, taking your time. she whines, “i’m getting so thirsty!” jerking your body up and down, making your legs quiver, the friction of your cores heating your bundle of nerves. 

sticking an index finger against her complaining lips only to pinch her jawbone to force an opening, without saying a word, you connect your mouth with hers, slowly pushing out the piña colada into her “parched” throat. 

wanda flutters her eyes close and hums at the sensation, gulping it down, caressing your back in the process. sluggish and soft, fingertips against your shoulder blades. upward your hair, combing through them. and finally, your neck, massaging your nape in circular motions. 

when you pull away you return a soft smile, giddy and grateful, reaching for the glass to give her some more. wanda’s wandering hands begin to become playful, toying with your bikini strap, stretching the fabric just to let it strike your skin. you hiss, slapping her hands away, yet she reprimands you with a smack on the ass. you sigh in relief for not having anything in your mouth. 

more perspiration covers her milk skin, moaning at the liquid tantalizing her throat, and you who cannot help but bounce against her, the heat crawling through your body caused by not only the tropical heat of the island. 

“princess, wanda whines, pushing your hips hard to stop you from bouncing like a bitch in heat, “what is it?” acting as if she doesn’t know what you’re asking for. “do you want to ride my thigh?”

or maybe she does. 

nodding eagerly, you slide your hands over wanda’s arms to intertwine fingers, descending to land on her thigh. “don’t let me go,”

wanda shakes her head, relaxed, rubbing her thumb over, “how am i going to play with your nipples then, honey?”

that particular sentence made you grind hard on her, your pussy throbbing in anticipation. it’s all up to you though, so you begin to feel her voluptuous thigh at home between your legs, at home to be used by your needy pussy. “let me play with them, yeah?”

you allow wanda to let go of your hands, although it doesn’t stay dangling and out of place. she puts them around her waist, “there. so you have something to hold on to,” gathering your hair around her grip. “get on it, little girl. give me a great view.”

you do as told. 

somehow, you always need wanda’s approval and permission before doing something that includes her, because it’s different with her. you utterly have faith that she would keep you safe, because most exciting things are dangerous. you become your truest, unapologetic self with her, dependent and clueless. wanda adores it, serving you, treating you like a princess. 

hoarsely, “there we go, nice and slow for now, huh?” wanda stares at your whole frame, your legs automatically spreading wider, draping over the chair. she bites her lip, dragging her fingers over your thighs, as you increase your pace. you squeal, pressing your clad pussy against her thigh, “that’s what i’m talking about, baby. make yourself feel good for me,” whilst wanda encourages you with hunger. 

you whimper, watching her watch you. blood rushes into your cheeks, bowing down to relieve the tension of being under wanda’s gaze, still unused to the pierce of her green eyes. you only look back when she begins fiddling with your top straps, teasing you with her next move. 

you believe you know what’s about to happen and yet she lets them go, cupping your tits with her hands, kneading them into her calloused palms. you topple over at the pleasure, and she holds you up with your breasts, almost crushing them. the action causes you to let out a high-pitched whimper, casually rubbing yourself to take off the insufferable itch in your clit. 

“oh god,” you sob when wanda pries the cups open without taking the top off, only setting them aside, as if she’s washing off sand from a seashell with her slender hands. “oh, oh!” feverishly you buck your hips, and “wanda!” a scream follows as she steps on her heel, her thigh going on a slope. 

“that’s my pretty girl,” wanda husks, “keep moaning for me,” encouraging you. a simultaneous long moan erupts from both of you as she pinches your peaks, rolling them in between her fingers. a hungry grunt vibrates through her before diving into your tit, sucking it full with her mouth. your hand goes straight through her blonde hair, gripping it through the scalp, and then her shoulder where you find better leverage. 

“that’s it-“ wanda huffs, “g-good, good, my good girl,” lost in the pleasure of sucking your chest. “yeah baby come for me-“ 

wanda guides your hips, setting a quick, solid rhythm. she pulses her heel up and down, and then it hits you,

“come for me, pretty girl. come for mommy-“

screaming and thrashing on top of her. 

you crash against her chest, quivering all over, moan after moan tumbling out of your mouth, your hips still moving but at their own accord, with wanda’s hands resting on your buttcheeks. wanda hums when you quiet down, the vibration reaching your nipples, grazing you with a scream, cum dripping out of you. “dirty,” you mewl, referring to your soaked and sticky bikini bottom 

wanda groans, “all mine,” palming your pussy through it, shoving her lips onto yours. you happily obliged, probing your tongue in her mouth, which she gladly accepted. massaging them together, suckling, and then nipping her lower lip, brushing your noses together. 

“mhm!” you squeal as you pull away, giving wanda a radiant smile. she pinches your cheeks and pecks your nose. “okay then!” she claps her hands together, an eager woman with a plan. she kisses the side of your neck just below your ear. she pulls you away from her, settling you down in between her legs.

she gets up, get cozy, princess, mommy’s just gonna take something inside, okay?”

“mommy,” you whine, “can i come with?”

“no no, princess. it’s a surprise for you, okay? i’ll be back before you know it!” and then she’s gone. 

you probably should have added “please” then she would’ve surely brought you in with her. but you do entertain yourself with the little time alone: rearranging glasses back in place, disregarding your wet bottom because wanda would take it off as usual, and finish the cocktail. you also spooned a bit of the coconut’s inside. 

a loud chatter pulls you away from your little bubble, a group of people jet skiing echoing through the space. multiple arms wave in your direction, a booming “HELLO” as you wave back, blush coating your cheeks. you push your legs tight together. realizing the openness of the patio, you make a double take behind the place wanda has disappeared off, knowing that there’s more to come out of after your stunt, and most especially that you have brought her dominant side out here. 

you drink wanda’s piña colada to pacify your nerves. 

wanda isn’t scary, per se, she just gets super duper mega hot and towering—sometimes to the point of la petite mort—but this time the possibility of somebody else kayaking their way into your location makes you palpitate.

kayaking, the deliberate effort of rowing through this calm ocean—the agonizing trail of the canoes—it is something worse than a damn jet ski. this is driving you crazy!

“i’m sorry for the long wait, my darling. mommy couldn’t find it for a while ‘cause she’s thinking about you…”

you take a huge gulp, refusing to look at what's behind you. a hand ghosts on top of the beach chair. “it’s okay, wanda, i like the view here…”

“i know, princess. but it’ll look nicer if you see what mommy packed for you!”

this is her cue to come forward, blocking the peaceful view of the sea, showing her thick strap. you roll your eyes back, trembling all over, making her chuckle at the expected reaction, taking your hand to stroke her cock. 

“i love the sound of your whimpers, baby. shows how much effect i have on you,” wanda husks, her desire of giving it to you palpable, because she dirty talks her way into your pussy as she does so. you gasp, “it’s big,” gripping the tip, feeling the faux veins coating the shaft. “you can take it, princess. i know it.”

“i don’t think so…” you dissent, shaking your head, at the same time anticipating it. but surely you can’t take it in you, it’ll hurt so bad. wanda shakes her head and palms your drenched clothed pussy before setting it aside. 

she puts a finger in without warning, making you arch your back, a cry “mommy!” leaving your shocked mouth. 

“now you’re calling me mommy,” she gives you a disapproving look, but urges you on smiling at the motion of you sucking her middle finger in fully without resistance. “i knew you’d be so wet, so i didn’t bring any lube.”

wanda takes her finger out and puts it in her mouth, moaning at the sweet taste of your cum. “mmm, i might just have to eat you out instead. would you want that, my princess?”

you nod your head rather aggressively, your face contorted in desperation. anything not to take her monster dick. however, wanda must’ve noticed your not-so-subtle calculation because she changes her mind, shaking her head, trying to hide her cheshire smirk. 

“no,” she hum, “i think my tongue can wait for this sweet pussy. ‘cause then what’s gonna keep my baby girl’s boobs occupied?”

a squeal leaves your mouth as wanda drags your legs to the edge until it’s draping off the chair. you stick your legs together in the wind, your cum glistening on your pussy. wanda traces the slick that coats your inner thigh, just to get a rise out of you. she bites her lip in anticipation as she lubes her cock with your pussy juice, rubbing the tip over your clit. 

“fuck,” she moans, “listen to it,” slapping it the toy against your pussy. “mommy,” you could only respond, already over the whole teasing fit. “please!”

“please what, princess?”

“plea-pl-“

she chuckles. wanda groans as she lines her cock in your opening, “use your words, darling. makes it easier for us,” waiting for you to vocalize. 

you fling your hand forward to intertwine them with hers. “please fuck me, mommy. pleaseplease fill meplease!”

wanda whimpers.

“that’s my good girl.”

she enters you slowly, encouraging you to take deep breaths as she spreads your hole, tearing you open to get used to the size. your brows knit together at the sharp pain, mewling at the sensation. wanda peppers kisses all over your neck and jaw, distracting you from the initial process, “hey, hey, baby. it’s okay, mommy’s here–mommy will take care of you.”

your “thank you” gets swallowed by her lips, capturing yours in a languid tango, firm and warm in the tropical heat. your eyes flutter close alike battling sleep as, fighting the urge to just stay open because if you stare long enough at wanda’s eyelashes, you would be able to count them, but you settle with feeling it caressing your cheekbone. she breathes you in with each inhale, her hands coming to your cheeks to get a hold of you even more. you let out a keen for the numerous times she bites your lip, sliding her tongue in when you moan at the first thrust. 

you break the kiss, “mommy,” giving her a pleading look. “please.”

she presents you a peck and nods her head, “oh yes,” beginning a pace. “is that okay, princess? does it hurt?”

“little only now, mommy. i like it,” you reply, taking her tongue in yours again. 

“yeah?” she pulls away from the kiss, “you like mommy grinding down on you?” pushing in her length harder, her pace controlled. you hear the beach chair thud against the movement. your tits bounce at the same time, whimpering, tugging her hand, “faster please-“

“no, no. mommy’s gonna take her time, my love. i need to feel every inch of you before we get back. fuck! i’ve never fucked you in a bikini! it’s been in my bucket list for months now and i could finally-!”

wanda finds her pace, a grunt leaving her, pumping deeper into you, “-do this!” a cry leaving your swelling lips as your back arches in the process, her cock stuffing you full. “thank you, feels so good,” you slur, eyes rolling back, seeing the blue of cloudy skies. you think you begin to drool. 

wanda makes an incoherent statement, her lower lip bitten to hold back her moans. a bucket of sweat forms on her forehead, little bubbles that slide down through her forehead and blushing face. her hair tangles in knots like a wet mop, clinging against her back. 

her hands slither through your body, tracing patterns on your stomach, playing with your belly button. “you’re welcome,” she sighs, “anything for my favorite lady,” whispering over your ear, her hot puffs making your spine quiver. she nibbles your earlobe. 

and your neck, sinking her teeth into flesh, planting a bruise, gripping your waist tight to pull you forward to meet her pounding. “ah fuck, wanda!” you yelp, as she stretches your pussy hole open and full. bucking her hips with no abandon, chasing that high that belongs in between your legs, her primal urge to please you—to hear you scream her name in your favorite vacation spot—to make you come apart only for her to build you back up. 

“oh baby, uh,” wanda keens, clipping her hair out of the way of seeing you fucked out, “play with your tits, y/n. come on, please! show me your pretty bits,”

a high-pitched moan sounds out of you from wanda’s desperation, mimicking her movement a sex ago, setting your cups to the side. your fingers shake as you pinch and roll your nipples, your moans getting higher and prolonged the more you tug at them. your whole body spasms, thrashing under wanda who makes it her life’s mission to make you come around her cock. 

you hear her chuckle close to your ear, licking a column of your neck, peppering kisses down onto your chest, replacing your fingers with her lips and tongue. 

“so hard, so ha-“

“harder!” you sob, jackhammering your hips to meet hers, every snap ending with the sound of your juices thwacking around wanda’s big dick. 

“hey, hey, princess look,” wanda slaps your face lightly to catch your attention, at the brink of tapping out, your brain unable to cope up with the situation anymore. you push your hoods open—screaming at the shock—the sight of wanda’s bare breasts bouncing up and down, looking so supple and fresh. 

“mommy,” you whine, “i wanna suck you,”

how you managed to let that out you don’t know. 

wanda whimpers, “oh baby,” purring as she downs her pace, “here princess,” taking one tit and holding in front of your mouth, “suck mommy good yeah?”

you only nod your head, speaking less to more. your mouth envelops in the hard peaks of the older woman, flicking it with your tongue before you actually suck it. wanda lets out a shaky breath, “y-yeah princess. be a good girl for mommy-“ driving her cock in your wet cunt in one swift thrust, frantic to hear you once more. 

“y/n!” wanda writhes, the only leverage she has over you is her hands clenching your sides, “fuck fuckfuck me- mommy’s so close princess-!” screaming along with you.  

“mommy, mommy,” you slur, attempting to wrap your legs around her waist but it’s too imposible with the energy you have. although wanda takes notice, helping you, wrapping one leg around her, whilst the other takes your hand the way you intended to in the first place. “yes, princess. mommy’s clo–come with me, please? come with me m’kay?” 

repetitive words tumble out of wanda’s lips with the way her mind untangles as well, lost in the pleasure of having you fucked brainless. her tit falls off your mouth when you fling your head back, nearing into your climax. one more thrust—

a familiar loud chatter enters your hearing, pointing toward your direction, wanda noticing the same thing as she pauses for a beat, and before shame could creep into your head, she jolts her hips recklessly, fucking you with a few visitors. 

“fuck yeah? we got an audience, baby. better give them our best sho-“

wanda chokes out a sob the same time as you, convulsing and trembling together at the climax. multiple expletives grunts out of her filthy mouth, complementing your sputtering. 

wanda screams the same time as you do, crashing together. multiple expletives come out of her filthy mouth, complementing your whiny sounds. 

“m-mommy!” you whine, drool dripping out of your mouth, “please–“ wanda grinning down at you, the loud chatter that once was powerful now weak and non-existent. “yes princess?” she purrs, washing the orgasm out of you. “i think you made them shut up, baby,” she chuckles breathlessly, her face red and wet. “but…we’re not done yet.”

you whine, exhaustion already painted all over you. “nope,” wanda pops the p and fixes your disheveled hair. you look so fucked out, not even a workout excuse is going to hide that. 

“i just…” wanda takes her time to come up with something, a sugarcoated truth, maybe? or a white lie?

“…i wanna put all my cum inside you,” she lets out quietly, batting her eyes at you. 

you cry with your legs spread open and shaking, ropes of cum filling your pussy hole. wanda giggles and moves her cock in a sensual pace, making sure nothing goes to waste. 

“i’m so full mommy!”

“so full of my cum! how does it feel being filled with cum, huh, princess?”

you can barely open your eyes at this point, but wanda insists, slapping your face lightly to catch your short attention span. “you like it?”

“yes, mommy. makes me wanna suck you,” you whimper as wanda moans. “i’ll fuck my cum in you some more and then i’ll get to fuck your face?”

“yes, you offer breathlessly, drifting off. she takes your chin so you could face her, “no, no,” giving you a demanding look, “yes what?”

she puts her thumb in your mouth and you automatically suck. “yes, mommy.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff smut #wanda x reader #marvel smut #wlw smut

[ohsuguru]

hiromi finds out his sweet fiancée has been lying to him all this time and decides to punish you for it ⁀ ❣︎

˚ʚ minors, ageless and blank blogs dni! ɞ˚

cw: consigliere! hiromi, federal agent! reader, m! masturbation, dub-con(ish?), exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of previous sexual sessions, mentions of murder.

an: had to get this off my chest, have been thinking about this for the longest time, thank you / part 2 here!

"fuck you," you spat, your words taking on a venomous tone as you glare daggers towards the man sitting in front of you. with his slicked-back raven-coloured hair and sinful bedroom eyes, the man that was once your fiancé sat there, man-spread and bored. 

your hands were bound behind the chair, ankles tied to each leg, keeping you trapped and immobile despite your constant effort to squirm your way out. it wasn't surprising that you had managed to find yourself in this situation.

your fiancé managed to find out who you were and what your background was and you knew that it was going to be a tough mission despite you being a seasoned member of the japanese intelligence agency.

tasked to report back to your bosses about the yakuza's activities and doings, it was painfully obvious to you that the only way to get the most accurate and most confidential information was to get in at the top. and the higher-ups had warned you that if you accepted this mission, you would be in it for the long run because they also had given you your target.

higuruma hiromi. 

consigliere to geto suguru's yakuza gang, hiromi was privy to anything and everything that was happening within the mafia. ranging from black market dealings to ironing out internal conflicts, hiromi was suguru's go-to man to deal with the yakuza's clandestine affairs. 

and you were his pretty little fiancée. which meant that everything he knew, you knew. and everything you knew, well... so did the japanese intelligence agency. 

or so you thought.

despite you being one of the most seasoned officers within the organisation, you were still green when dealing with the yakuza. of course, hiromi knew who you were. the consigliere was always one step ahead of you, feeding you information that seemed accurate but in actual fact was nothing more than lies that kept you in the dark.

so of course, you were pissed about this. not to mention that he had also tied you to a chair.

hiromi knew that he should be mad at you, furious even. you had toyed with his feelings. batted your teary, doe eyes at him, cried his name with that sweet voice of yours, raked your painted nails down his back whenever the two of you made love.

it was tangled sheets, and whispered sighs, and writhing limbs. sleepless nights and lazy mornings. you wearing his shirt in his kitchen, drinking coffee and then him eating you out on the kitchen counter. it was garters and high heels that were kept on while he fucked you good in expensive hotel rooms. it was your lips wrapped around his throbbing dick, lipgloss smudged around his mushroom tip, glitter trailing the veins down his length. 

he knew he should be mad at you. furious even. but it was a fine line between love and hate.

especially when you happened to be wearing what you had on right now.

his dark brown eyes rake down your bound figure, a maroon-coloured evening dress draped over your body, hugging your sinful curves in all the right ways. your make-up siren-like and smoky, lips coated in that strawberry-flavoured gloss that never lasts the entire night with hiromi needing to kiss and lick it off of you.

with you looking so enticing to the consigliere, you couldn't blame him when his dick twitched to life at the sight before him.

"now, now, dearest," hiromi chuckles as he leans back against the couch, his strong thighs spreading more as he gazes at you wolfishly. "you're too pretty to be cursing like this."

"let me go, asshole," you snarl back, eyes flaring with anger as your glossy, painted lips curl into a scowl. the ropes start to leave pink rings around your wrist and ankles the more you struggle, body jerking while you try to loosen the knots. "you have no idea who you're dealing with here."

hiromi chuckles darkly, a calloused hand running through his slicked-back hair, a smirk settling on his lips.

"i know exactly who i'm dealing with, angel," hiromi replies languidly. "graduated top in class at the police academy. joined the public security intelligence agency under the graduate program. youngest federal agent ever to be promoted into the domestic security department."

his hand moves from his hair to his tie, loosening it before tossing it aside, fingers deftly undoing the first two buttons of his white collared shirt.

"tasked to infiltrate the yakuza," the consigliere continues, almost as if he was reciting off a dossier that was solely about you. you wouldn't be surprised if he did actually have one stashed somewhere at this point. "to report everything back to your bosses. flirted with me. dated me. fucked me. accepted my marriage proposal. and then destroyed my trust when i found out about your little scheme."

he couldn't trust you anymore. he couldn't trust your words, your siren call. you lied as easily as you breathed, and to be fair, so did hiromi. you couldn't trust him either. 

but if there was one thing the both of you knew for a fact though, was that your bodies never lied. 

"and now, fuck, baby, you got me all hard."

a dark chuckle follows his words as you watch his hand drag down his torso and straight towards his crotch, adjusting and palming it with a groan as his head falls against the back of the couch. 

"what the fuck do you think you're doing, higuruma?" you ask the raven-haired man, head whipping around to break eye contact with his tempting actions. "this is harassment."

"it's hiromi, angel," he groans as he continues to grip himself, voice sultry and gravelly, the sound sending straight sparks of lust down your spine. "not higuruma. hiromi. or hiro. but never higuruma."

the consigliere leaves the throbbing erection briefly to undo his slacks, not even bothering to push down his tailored pants and instead opting to just pull out his angry dick as a satisfied hiss leaves his lips when the air hits his flushed skin. the veins on his shaft were prominent and pretty, his length throbbing and aching with need as he gripped it tightly, pretending it was your hand that was wrapped around it instead. 

"i should fucking hate you," hiromi groans as his large hand pumps the length slowly. "put a bullet through that pretty little head of yers. but i can't."

you can't help but look back at your fiancé, your tongue darting out to lick at your lips as your thighs squeeze together in need. your body reacts so intrinsically to hiromi. pupils dilating. heart pounding. pussy dripping.

"wish it was y'er mouth that i'm fucking right now," hiromi hisses out, the veins in his arm prominent as he jerks himself off in front of you. "got me all hard for you, seeing you all tied up like a present for me."

you watch his thumb swipe over his frenulum, smearing his pre-cum around the head before he drags his hand down. hiromi's tip leaks, the sight of the sticky fluid making you swallow thickly, wanting nothing more than to lick it all up like how you usually do.

"hiro," you gasp out sweetly as your thighs rub together. a smirk plays on his lips at the sweet sound that left your lips, his movements picking up speed.

"that's it, pretty," hiromi sighs, his chest rising and falling faster now, gravelly sounds tumbling from his parted mouth. "keep saying my name like that and i won't last long."

the noises of his lubricated cock fill the room, the muscles in his body tightening as he feels himself brimming at the edge of pleasure. hiromi's other hand goes down to his balls, massaging and rolling them expertly which drags out another erotic groan from him.

"hiromi, please–" you find yourself begging for him to let you go, free you from the ropes that bind you to the chair, body twitching with need. your panties are damp, soaked with arousal as tingles of pleasure go down your spine at the sinful show before you. "let me go. i wanna suck you o–"

and with your sweet, pleading words, he completely comes undone, spurts of thick, white, ropes of cum going everywhere as he moans out your name in blinding pleasure. you couldn't help but gasp at the sight, your pussy aching with need as you pant slightly, unable to help but feel like it was such a waste seeing all that cum spill onto his slacks instead of in your mouth or cunt.

hiromi chuckles heartily and darkly as he picks his head up, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips when he looks back at you. because hiromi knew you like the back of his hand, recognising the telltale signs of your arousal piqued. you fell pussy first into higuruma hiromi's trap, and you knew that when you eagerly give in to his next words. 

"beg for it, angel."

#li shen writes - ˚ʚ❣︎ɞ˚ #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you #jjk x you smut #hiromi x reader #hiromi x reader smut #hiromi x you #hiromi x you smut #higuruma x reader #higuruma x reader smut #higuruma x you #higuruma x you smut #anime smut

[kth1fics]

Lucky, Lucky Girl (M) | JJK

Lucky, Lucky Girl

⟶ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader ⟶ Genre: Roommates AU, Smut, 18+ ⟶ WC: 6.1k+ ⟶ Warnings: pwp, implied drunken state, alcohol, implied situationship, neck kisses, oral (m), making-out, choking, clit pinched once, fingering (f), finger sucking (f & m), palming (m), brief unprotected sex, etc ⟶ Beta: @jeonjcngkook​ // thank you so much for dealing with my massive short time frames :( i love you, sav ⟶ Summary: The joy of Jungkook having a grand ol’ time with his own personal karaoke night causes you, his roommate, to grow more and more annoyed. ⟶ Author’s Note: Mmm, yeah. Jungkook’s back to back Weverse lives – how ‘bout that? ⟶ Song Recommendation: Unholy ft Kim Petras by Sam Smith

Masterlist ◈ Mail Box ◈ AO3 ◈ Ko-Fi

“Dirty, dirty boy!”

“Not again…” you sigh. Blinking stunned as your head rests against the fluff of your pillow.

“You know everyone is talking on the scene!”

You try not to listen intently. But with the dead of the night, where no sounds are supposed to be made, you cannot help but hear every single breathy note your roommate sings. Voice amplified with the help of an expensive karaoke microphone, synced with the slight off-tune beats that play on the device in the living room.

“I hear them whispering ‘bout the places that you’ve been!”

Your brows furrow with remorse as your hands come to clamp over your ears. Why had you thought many moons ago that buying him this damn machine would be such a lovely gift? You thought he could never do such a thing like this. Singing hours on end into the middle of the night, by himself, was never a thought that crossed your mind when you purchased your roommate a wireless karaoke machine for his birthday.

Tonight is the first time you truly regret your choice of gift giving.

“And how you don’t know how to keep your business clean!”

“Jungkook!” You shout out in agony. Hoping the man hears you through the walls of your shared apartment complex. Belching out a stern yell should surely remind him of your earlier request. “I told you two hours ago to keep it down!”

To your own judgment, you realize that Jungkook either must have not heard you or chooses to ignore you as his voice continues to sing the pop-ish, R&B song Unholy.

“Mummy don’t know –”

“Jungkook, I swear to God!” 

You stand up from your bed, tossing your blankets and pillows elsewhere as you stomp toward your closed door with haste. The twist of the knob is loud as your anger seeps into your actions, the swing of your door is just as abrupt. Your feet take you directly to the living room, padding down the hallway until blinking lights from the television shine in your eyes. Empty beer cans decorate the coffee table, some even knocked over and most definitely leaving stains on the wooden top. A bowl of snacks rests nearly untouched, but the ceramic maroon plate does have leftover crumbs of a breaded food.

Jungkook is found lounging back into the couch, microphone dangling above his head as he sings into it. Black luscious and fluffy locks, that barely touch shoulder length, fall beautifully with the way his head tilts onto the back of the couch. Dark clothes suit him best, probably because you’ve hardly ever seen him wear any other shade. You can tell just by the choice of shirt and long pants that he’s done nothing but wear the most comfortable attire for his karaoke night.

His eyes must be tired considering he wears his glasses, but underneath you can see how his eyes remain close as he gushes the lyrics like it’s his job. Knowing them word for word and with the perfect tone and tune.

“Two hours!” You yell, making your position in the living room more noticeable. You stand between the television and him, anger fuming within you. Steam could fly out your ears if that were possible. “Two damn hours and you’re still singing!”

You’re matched with a puzzled look when Jungkook finally opens his eyes. He peers down between the glass of his eyewear, trying to understand if you’re really in front of him or if he’s imagining it. The song continues to play as Jungkook lacks reciting the rest of the lyrics, you’re not sure if you could handle hearing him sing it for a third time this evening.

“What?” His lips pout as his nose scrunches and you wish to wipe the undeniable cuteness from it. He knows he can get away with such a gesture. “What happened?”

“I asked you two hours ago,” you sigh, stress pouring off of your face. He’s taken your sleep and little bit of patience left of your day. You can physically feel yourself building up to explode completely. “Please, stop it. Or at least do something else. Less noisy, preferably.” 

Jungkook does nothing but smirk. The microphone falls from his hand to the cushion of the couch as he leans up in a better seating position, but chooses to bob his head to the beat of the song. Moving his arms just like how the dance goes in the music video. He mumbles the lyrics to himself as the song is finishing up, dragging his pointer finger down from his forehead to his lips as he purposely, and most definitely, taunts you with his absence of attention. Preferring to rock out to the rest of the song, on his own agenda as he turns a deaf ear to you once more. There’s no way he is completely obliterated right now, you’ve seen that side of him more than once – he’s a complete mess when it happens. But here, right now, you know Jungkook is drunkenly tilting on a tipsy seesaw. Well aware of his actions.

“Are you serious?”

He bellows a laugh, eyes crinkling in the corners with happiness as he feeds off of your agitated energy. “I’m bored. This is entertaining me,” he points to the television and microphone. “I’m quite good at it.”

“Jungkook, it’s been hours,” you drawl as you feel the emotions of your anger prick at your eyes. Your chest rises and falls with a heavy exhale, if only he could comprehend how fatigued you are. “You’re lucky we don’t have neighbors because the police would have been knocking on our front door by now.”

“Come and join me,” he insists as he reaches for a thick glass. It’s the one he keeps in the freezer; the mechanism inside the walls of the cup keeps the liquid it holds cold for longer. “I have a whole other pack in the fridge or there’s liquor in the cupboard if you prefer that instead.”

“No!” You scoff, “That’s not what I want. How are you so awake right now?”

Jungkook raises his beer with an expectant look to his face, raising an eyebrow for you to catch the hint. “Alcohol keeps me up longer,” he says with a gleaming smile. “How are you ‘so awake’?” He parrots your words before he takes a large sip of his chilled beer. Enjoying the taste that rolls across his tongue and down his throat.

“You!” you exhale with a growl. A warning if anything. The word comes off like acid, meant to burn and brand the man sitting in front of you.

It doesn’t phase him how you wish it could. Your roommate just sits there minding his own business as he grabs the remote to shuffle through the next list of songs. Seeking to add another reason that will make you even more mad.

“Rainism? Do I Wanna Know? How about some Bieber?”

Even with your body covering up a portion of the screen, he still manages to know the layout and how to direct the cursor around. You can hear the annoying dings of movement as he flicks through the options, the soft sounds escalating louder the more you concentrate and focus on them. Giving those noises more energy than they originate. Just like how one watches a clock tick it's seconds away and the clicking snaps closer to an unavoidable thunderous tone.

With all your vexation boiling, your irritation allows you to act impulsively. Your fingers find the on/off switch to the television immediately, clicking it off to a blank screen. Jungkook scrambles to find the correct remote device to turn it back on, but you’re quicker than that. Smarter than that. To stop any further attempts, you even go all the way to unplugging the devices from the outlet directly attached to the wall.

“Y/n!” Jungkook whines. He exaggerates further with a click of his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

“No!” You cut him off, “I have had enough.”

You stand your ground. This is a shared apartment after all but Jungkook should respect the decency of a good night's rest. Just because he didn’t have a day like you did doesn’t mean he forgets to consider how you may feel with his actions. Usually he’s very good, half the time he’s always out with friends or work. So an occurrence like this is far beyond rare. But you can’t excuse him for spending hours into the dead of night keeping it alive with loud music and his melodic voice.

Just as you feel like you’ve once, the taste of victory on the tip of your tongue, you immediately pull back when you see Jungkook stand from the couch. The gesture isn’t casual, it’s fast. Like lightning, he has jolted from his place and speeds toward you.

To catch you and trap you.

“Come here!” He shouts behind you with a giggle as he chases you back down the hall. You race toward your room, hoping to shut him out quickly. 

You’ve stirred the pot by cutting his fun short and you should know Jungkook sees your anger as cute. But there is no time for foolish playful antics. You desperately want to rest, knock out and sleep in.

“Go to bed!” You shout over your shoulder. When your eyes catch a glance of how close he’s gotten to you, the strike of panic screams throughout your entire body. Even a yelp escapes your throat involuntarily.

His hand grips on the back of your shirt just as he pulls you like a fish on a wire. It’s quick, but somehow Jungkook manages to yank you straight into his hard frame before he pins you against the hallway wall. Right next to your bedroom door.

“Ow!” You hurt from the way one of your elbows bangs against the drywall behind you. You push back on Jungkook’s hands, fighting his dominance as he attempts to hold your arms back. 

Unconsciously, Jungkook leans in with each word he speaks, smiling to himself as his teeth snag onto the lip ring adorning his right bottom lip. “I’m not sorry.” Something switches within him. Eyes now peering down at your parted lips, two desirable colored pieces of flesh, he blinks silently with no other words. Jungkook finds himself stuck staring at them, how they’re parted so pretty by the gasp that leaves your lips. 

You can feel the radiation of his heated gaze; a burning sensation that you cannot tell is fueled by rage or something else. The sudden fiery ambiance Jungkook’s body and demeanor gives off is enough to set a forest ablaze. Smothering, scorching. The intensity of his concentrated stare heats you up from within, a prickling spark that shouldn’t be tampered with. 

“J-Jungkook?” You blink, heartbeat running laps in your chest. Your mind runs rampage like gazelles in the wild. Expanding to new, dangerous horizons. “This is bad.” The hairs on the back of your neck stand tall as a shiver runs down the base of your spine.

“Why does bad sound so good?” His warm breath fans over your ear, forcing goosebumps to dance across your skin. Jungkook slides himself closer, confessing his body to feel something more as he slithers his arms around your back as he presses you against the wall. “Can you explain that?”

“Jungkook, you’re drunk.” You try to reason with him. Maybe he isn’t in his right state of mind. You recall the lingering beer cans in the living room, surely he’s been the only one drinking them. 

Or are you trying to reason with yourself?

You’re really trying to not take advantage of this situation – one you didn’t foresee yourself getting into. Because you honestly just wished for peace and quiet. This happens only once in a while. Something neither one of you are proud about. There’s been talks, endless rambling and a vicious cycle of repetitive excuses. It’s not wise to ‘fuck around and find out’ with a roommate who need to hold their own, pay for their own expenses and be responsible. If someone gets too comfortable… they could be caught slipping. Forgetting all of these rules and abusing the privilege of the other to take care of them. 

Neither one of you want that. The two of you are far too comfortable being sturdy with your own ‘singleness’. The idea of stripping that freedom from you makes you cringe.

But you cannot deny that ready feeling, random spark of desire, whenever Jungkook gives you that certain look. Perhaps it’s because you have tasted what he offers. How it still can creep up and remind you how delicious he is when you’re craving that flavor.

“I’m not drunk. I'm loose. There’s a difference.” Huffing a laugh, he tickles the shell of your ear with his breath. “If you want me to go to bed so badly, bring me to yours.” Jungkook’s nose nudges along the length of your neck, drinking in the faint smell of you. “I can’t promise I’ll stay quiet though.”

His hands are warm as you feel them press against your back, hugging you tight against him. You gulp as memories flash across your brain like an old film reel. Only the best moments blasting loud in your mind, reminding you of times before. How it felt. How he is with you.

Your hands balled into fists with your temptations playing in the front of your mind. All thoughts, rational or not, dissipate as you feel the slightest touch of Jungkook’s lips stoking the skin of your neck, skimming over the areas that make you swoon. You can’t blame the tiredness you once felt now diminish and grow with glimmers of excitement. Burning like a wick.

“We can’t do this again,” you remind him as your voice falters to a mouse-like whisper.

“So this will be the last time,” Jungkook grinds his pelvis into you, pulling you against him in the same motion. You feel it, the evidence of his cock hardened and ready to press into you. “We can fuck around one more time,” he kisses your neck with delicacy, “And we’ll never have to talk about it again.”

“Was this your plan all along?” You push your chest into him for emphasis. “Annoy me so you could do this?”

“Hasn’t it always been like this?” He chuckles with his deep voice seeping out. “I’m a lot to handle and you get fed up with it. In return I shut you up.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate with his next move, slotting his leg between yours as he pins you against the wall. He latches his mouth onto your neck as his hands roam your body, squeezing every muscle and curve he can reach. He releases one of your hands in favor of raising one of your legs around his waist, using the angle to pin you even more.

You move quickly with the freedom of your one limb, running your hand straight to the back of Jungkook’s black thick hair and gripping a fist full. “You’re so obnoxious,” you squeal as he retaliates with a bite to your neck. Teeth nipping harder than you expect, drawing soreness to the spot the moment he releases your skin.  

He leans his head back enough to look at your face, a smug grin dressing his face as his fringe hides his glasses that protect his eyes. Jungkook doesn’t look into your eyes, he’s already mapping out his plan of assault with his mouth as he leers at your lips again. He pulls your leg higher as he moves in, hungrily kissing you with deep passion and thirst. You pull him equally with the back of his neck, yanking him forward to battle his tongue with yours.

An audible growl rumbles through Jungkook’s chest. Euphoric exhilarations trickle all over your skin. Jungkook’s reckless need to touch every inch of you sets a subtle ache in your core, growing it each passing second. Kisses become rougher, more desperate, as you share air between another. His touch burns you in the most errotic way, but you’ll never admit that to his face.

Jungkook continues to pull your leg into him just so he can angle his pelvis into you, prodding his clothed covered cock between the junction of your thighs. Teasing a blissful promise to you, letting you know how he wants to dive right into your walls and stretch you open. Your hand rummages through his roots, your other still pinned against the wall with Jungkook’s.

“Bed,” he murmurs against your wet lips. 

He sucks on your tongue before letting his teeth scrap softly against it as he pulls back. His body with yours, you two fumble through your bedroom doorway and land straight onto your mattress. 

You’re not normally stripping off your clothes this fast, but with Jungkook it’s different. Everything is impulsive and needy. There are no thoughts, only consequences and actions. The darkness shrouds the two of you, giving you more courage to do things without thought. Whereas Jungkook has already got a bit of liquid courage yet he is very self-aware of what he’s doing right now. You pull Jungkook down with you, a new instinct – a drive – taking hold of you.

His knees dig into the bed as Jungkook lifts his shirt over and off his body after removing yours. Jungkook’s muscles flex over another in the motion of his arms pulling the material up, revealing more of his toned, tanned, and inked skin to your eyes. A sight you secretly miss seeing. His body is just as you remembered; well-defined pectorals, large bulking biceps, a rippling line of tight abdominal muscles that tighten over his stomach, even the deadly outline of a v-line dipping dangerously below the hem of his pants.

It takes you a moment to recollect yourself from gawking at him. Eyes wide like saucers, trying to etch every single detail of his body so you can think of him later when you’re left with just a battery operated toy between your legs. Numberless lines of art, mainly black but some pretty colors too, decorate the entire expanse of his right arm. Shoulder all the way to the digits of his hand. His physique is well-kept, you know this man must take care of himself. Each edge, each angle of his compliments Jungkook perfectly. You couldn’t imagine him any different. 

Jungkook catches your eyes, implicitly feeding into his ego. He smirks that annoying, nearly cocky, smile that flashes his white teeth as his dark locks dangle in front of his face. He disposes his glasses to a nearby table, out of the way of any reckless behavior.

His eyes roam your figure, areas of skin he wants to touch and violate if you give him the chance.

“You’re right, you know.” You hear him mumble as his hands aimlessly glide across your front, running themselves over your chest before they cup each of your breasts. He experiments with the tender flesh of your tits, squeezing and releasing them with his control. “This is bad. It’s dangerous how much I think about fucking you. Then you let me do it,” he laughs. His tattooed arm raises as his hand runs through his hair, fingering the dark strands and curling a few behind his ear. 

He drags his other hand down his front, making sure you watch each tentative movement as he runs his fingers over his body in front of you. They tantalize you, spellbind you into watching every second as he descends down to his lower region. Cuffing his bulge over the loose dark material of his pants and applying pressure to relieve some tension. He grips the sides of his cock, outlining the length as he runs the length of his shaft.

Jungkook’s tongue swipes out to lick his lips before sucking the bottom one in, snagging that sexy lip ring in between his teeth as he softly jerks himself through his clothes. His eyes, hooded and laced with dangerous lust, stare down at yours. The most subtle, audible, groan escapes through his teeth and you swear you lost every last ounce of sanity you have left for the night. Your cunt clenches with eagerness as the sound, as whiny and beautiful it sounds coming from him, hits your core like a train on impact. What you would do for more of those sounds…

Jungkook repeats the process right in front of your very eyes, gradually fisting himself even more until he can’t handle it much more himself. 

“Holy shit –” you speak breathlessly. Unable to fathom the scene being played out. You lean up with a surge, a power within you of wanting to please this man. Hands gripping the sides of his dainty waist, right where his hip bones poke out, and you run your nails over them in your pursuit to free his cock. “Get naked too,” you command as you hook your fingers around his waistband. 

Your fervor is impressive, making you feel like you’re doing justice while you’re truly doing something unholy. You drag his pants down his thighs, watching the way his cock springs out with happiness. The shine over his dripping cockhead welcomes you, affirms to you how stressed it must be to be touched by you. Aching to be pleased. His girth always makes you coyly smile; he radiates such energy, of course he has a package to match it. 

Jungkook is solid, cock pulsing by your touch. Just palming him alone makes your core tighten, makes the dirty mind of yours wander further into the abyss of sultry. You can feel yourself leaking arousal on yourself.

“You gonna put those pretty lips around me?” You feel the way Jungkook’s fingers curl around your jaw to tilt your head toward him. His thumb runs across your lips, slowly slotting itself between them and pushing past your teeth. 

With pleading eyes, you blink and nod at him. You suck on his thumb to show him what he has to look forward to, what you’re about to give him. You’re ready to do whatever it takes to make this man moan.

Your fist grips Jungkook’s dick, cautiously squeezing him as you flick your wrist up and down. Moving your body, you level your head to his pelvis after his release of your jaw. You bend your back as sexy as you imagine it can look as you keep your ass hoisted high. Leaning in, you plant a sweet kiss to his swollen tip, tasting the first moments of his salty secretions. It’s the first indication of Jungkook losing his breath as you hear a shuttered exhale.

You need more.

Your tongue lavished over the slit of his cockhead, parting the small piece to lap up every piece of precum that dares to drip carelessly from him.

“Fuck,” you hear the narrow whisper from above. His nose blows out a puff of hot air.

You ease your head down, immersing yourself on his rock hard cock. Tasting the flavor of his skin on your tongue as you wet the entire length with your saliva. Your lips tighten around him as you dip your head, bopping it down and up teasingly, wanting to taste every desirable inch of his blessed cock. You swivel and twist your tongue underneath as you suck, hard. Taking initiative to stroke what you can’t fit comfortably… for now.

“Fuck, Y/n!” Jungkook groans with an open mouth. Jaw slacking as his hips softly roll with the pace you set. You feel his hand skirt around your head, pulling pieces of your hair so he can view the way your cheeks hollow around him. “Fuck, yes. Just like that,” he hums with a tender whine. “You do it so fuckin’ well.”

Jungkook continues to whisper praises as his hips beg to thrust harder. Words of motivation help carry you to continue bobbing your head along his shaft, wanting him in deeper. So far enough to take your breath completely away from you. Your muffle moans vibrate on his cock, you can feel it twitch from time to time. 

“Yeah, yeah…” 

And now you hear Jungkook’s voice transition from his normal tone to that melodic tune. The one where you can hear it laced in whenever he sings his heart out. The noise you hear nearly all night long, agonizing you that it isn’t you who got those noises out from him. Until now. Where you suck harder, dip deeper to let his cock slot into your throat and stuff your mouth.

You fight all urges to gag, using every fiber in you to accept his length further past your comfort point. Pressing your nose against the soft plush of his public hairs as you melt into his pelvis, cock sliding as far as it can go into your esophagus.

Jungkook whines with satisfaction. Seeing how cock-hungry you are for him while this overwhelming pleasure sparks every heated nerve ending in his body. “You feel so fucking good,” his breath sounds labored. His fingers find a hold on the back of your head, clutching your hair tightly as he loses composure for a moment to thrust his hips into you.

“Mmf!” You resound a noise that only sounds dirty to him. Bear resemblance to a well pleased cockslut who wants nothing else but his dick. So he repeats the process again, and again… and again. Just to pull out those tasty groans as your nose is crammed against him and mouth prying wider to eat his cock.

Your eyes water at the onslaught, threatening to break past the brims of your eyes. Throat becomes coarse, abused with the intrusion that continues to batter your mouth. It’s relentless, but both you and Jungkook are hooked on the feelings you’re receiving from such an act. A single string of saliva connects your mouth to his throbbing cock when he abruptly pulls you from him, twisting your head to see how fucked-out your face looks.

It’s when you’re able to look up at him as well, seeing the way his brows furrowed as he pays close attention to you. Cheeks moving with the huffs of air he releases from his mouth. Beautiful large brown eyes taken over by his blown out pupils. The hair that hangs off his head makes you want to pull, rake your nails through and comb them. Fist it and twist it.

“Flip over,” he requests while already pulling you with him. His hands manhandle you respectfully, letting your body to turn around and rest on all fours. “So wet already,” he comments as his palms spread open your asschecks, giving him the view of everything from between your cheeks to your gorgeous pussy lips. The sheen of your arousal already slips past your vulva and dresses your inner thighs. “So pretty,” Jungkook collects some with two of his fingers, rolling the slippery mess between his digits before letting the tip of his tongue taste it. “So tasty.”

You edge your ass closer to him as he ghosts his fingers between your thighs. Slide them along the expanse of them before touching your soaked lips.

“Want you to fuck me,” you bend forward, placing your head against the mattress as your arms stretch above you to anchor yourself in place. “I warmed you up good enough. I want you to put that cock in me,” you wiggle your ass in his view. “I’m ready for you, Jungkook. Don’t you see that?” 

He breathlessly laughs, astonished how easy it is for you to be so confident. So prepared to have Jungkook do what he wants. He glides his index finger though your folds, spreading your slickness across all surfaces before hovering over your entrance. Sliding that same finger in, he instantly curls it up against the ridge wall that hides your sensitive spot.

A mewl rips from your throat but you bury your mouth into your blankets below you. You feel the way your pussy eats up Jungkook’s finger, you can’t imagine how it’ll be when he sticks his cock in. Your body wants to lean back more, feel how deep his finger could go if he allows it. But Jungkook denies you that pleasure by pulling away.

“God, I want to fuck you so bad right now. I don’t care to tease right now.”

Static courses though the atmosphere. Your bedroom which serves as a resting comfort place now feels like inside an oven, heated and blazing with lustful passion. 

This is exactly what Jungkook wants. Did he expect his plan to work completely? Absolutely not. Countless times he purposely does things just to get a reaction out of you, to see if you give him that energy. Just to mess with you. 

Does that always lead to this? No. 

Has it happened before though? Yes.

Jungkook maneuvers himself enough to skim his dick along the folds of your sopping pussy. Slowly dipping his tip into the gates of your entrance, easing it in little by little. You feel your legs widen further as he stretches you, until you’re biting back your words. Jungkook hardly submerges his cockhead before you jump up, twisting away from him with a frantic hand out.

“Whoah, wait!” You don’t notice the way your fingers shake with adrenaline as you stare at Jungkook in shock. “We need a condom!”

You could kick yourself for being so stupid, drunk on a lust haze and barely forgetting the fact you always stay protected. Never wanting an accident to happen with anyone who comes between your legs. Even Jungkook.

You’re stunned momentarily as you drink in the sight of Jungkook kneeling behind you. His hand holding the base of his cock as he holds it angled for your pussy while the other grips your hip. His abdomen tightening from the anticipation while his biceps flex as he holds back his body. Lazily, his eyes meet yours after staring down at your ass in a trance for far too long. A pout follows his frown until he catches how deep in thought he's in. Not realizing how hot and heavy the two of you acted.

“Shit, yeah. Do you have one here?”

You nod, reaching for a box under your bed quickly to pull out a small box of condoms. Jungkook happily takes one from your hand, tearing into the foil quickly and applying the rubber over his cock. He pinches the tip after slinking the condom down his shaft, pulling the elastic slightly to make it more comfortable for his member.

He glances at you, flashing you a bright smile that’s hidden with mischief. He grabs hold of your hips again and pulls you back to him, forcing you back down in an arch once again and prepares himself behind you.

“The condom just makes me fuck you harder,” he alerts as he’s pressing into you. His cockhead slips through your lips and begins dragging against your walls. A throaty groan erupts from your throat, entangled by pure blissful pleasure as Jungkook spears you open. “Makes me last longer.”

“Good,” you bark back with a smile only you can tell you wear. Your face shoves itself into your blankets as you feel Jungkook fill you up, rocking into you as you buck your hips back. His girth stretches you out in the most rewarding ways possible, making that slight stinging pain feel glorious and well deserving. “Fuck me hard then.”

Jungkook’s head swims with all the carnal desire built up. Once his other hand grips the other side of your hips you are done for. His grip is tight, desperate to keep hold of you as you squirm with his new pace. He thrusts into you, reeling you back into him with each swift movement of his hips. Sinking his cock as deep into your pussy as possible, drawing out those delicious squelching noises.

His strides speed up as the sounds of skin slapping skin gets louder. It twists your insides in a good way. Gaining a praising squeal from you as a burning coil in your abdomen tightens dangerously. Jungkook ravages his advantage on you, mounting you from behind and having ultimate control of your body. His cock slips out from the warm wetness of your cunt only to fill it aggressively back up.

Your nails pull at the blankets under you as your teeth bite into your bottom lip, breaking the plush skin. 

“Ah! Yes!” You moan, pussy throbbing with excitement as Jungkook pushes you closer to a release. “Fuck – Harder!”

You beg him to rail you more. Want to feel the way he pushes you over the edge. Jungkook’s chest heaves with labor, his voice turns more whiney and groany.

Calloused and tattooed fingers snake their way up your back to your neck, slipping them around the front and hoisting you up. Jungkook drags you against him, forcing your body upright as his hips continue to slap into your backside. The angle creates new bliss, prodding harshly against a sensitive area of your walls. Steadily, Jungkook hardens his grip around your neck. Applying pressure to limit your breath.

“Aren’t you lucky?” Jungkook embeds his head in the crook of your neck, mouth sucking sharply on your skin. He lets out vocal grunts as he continues to slam into you while his other hand seeks your front. Slipping down between your thighs to toy and rub circles against your engorged clit. “Getting fucked so hard, you’ll have no problem sleeping after this.”

Your moan rings through Jungkook’s ears as your cunt spasms and convulses around his spearing cock. His new position sends you into a frenzy. Orgasm after orgasm hits you, exploding within your heated body as Jungkook’s fingers and cock ruthlessly abuse your pussy. You cry with joy, a shaky breath whispering his name like a mantra as you gasp for air.

Jungkook continues to roll his hips into you from behind, pushing you past the point of your initial release and sending you into overdrive. He pinches your clit to hear you shriek, charging his ego and exciting his senses. He’s cruel, really, to latch his teeth onto your neck as grunted breaths escape his nose as he forces himself in you. But it’s so undeniably hot as he does it.

It pushes Jungkook toward his release, cracking down his walls and busting open the floodgates as he shoots warm, white cum into the tip of his condom. Cock nudged all the way in your pussy walls as he stills, groaning with words of how good you feel around him. Your panting bodies freeze together; still kneeling and heaving like you’ve run a marathon.

Your pussy convulses as aftershocks of your orgasm vibrates around Jungkook’s lodged cock, flexing and unflexing until he slowly pulls out of you. You miss it, the feeling of him filling your walls. Now they’re left bare, empty with nothing touching them.

You want to rest your body against his, but you know you can’t. It’s not a good decision to do more damage than what has already been caused. Maybe it’s the tenderness of your beating heart that still swarms with warmth after intimacy. Although you must always shake those feelings especially when it comes to your roommate. Who has nothing to do with you on a relationship level. And only once in a while the two of you slip up and fuck your frustrations out.

Jungkook moves first which surprises you. His lean figure has no problem pushing you back down to the bed after removing both his hands from you. He flops beside you and focuses on pulling off the condom from his softening cock without spilling its contents. He ties a knot at the opening before dropping it to the floor, not caring where exactly it lands.

The bed feels plush and heavenly against your face. The cool of your blankets chill you off yet welcome you with open arms. You stare at Jungkook as your heartbeat fails to relax. Portions of his bangs stick to his forehead from the sheen of sweat that decorates it. He breathes in the cool air with his eyes closed, catching his breath as he levels his body.

“We can’t do this again,” you remind him. Slumber knocks at your front door, reminding you how tired you are. “It’ll cause problems.”

“It’s already a problem,” he groans. He doesn’t bother looking at the scowl on your face. He knows it’s there. “It’s an addictive problem.”

Aimlessly, Jungkook reaches for a portion of the blanket from under him. He brings it over him enough to tuck himself comfortably in your bed. You even fight over it with him, telling him to go to his own bed if he’s tired. Though, he doesn’t listen. He’s selective once again. Knowing that he can get away with getting under your skin. Enjoying the way you get agitated how all he needs to do is wrap his arm around your body, filling you with his warm embrace – and you cave in. 

Moodboard credit: @kth1​

© 2023 All rights reserved under @kth1​ - do not copy, repost, modify, edit, or translate any of my work without my direct consent. This TUMBLR and AO3 are the ONLY places my fics are posted.

#lucky lucky girl #kth1fics #bangtansorciere #thebtswritersclub #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook pwp #jungkook imagines #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook au #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts pwp

[strangersmunsons]

fried egg I'm in love

Eddie makes you breakfast.

Contains: Eddie x Reader, fem!reader, established relationship, pet names, Eddie fries you some eggs because you should always eat breakfast before a big day. No mention of reader’s physical appearance, no use of Y/N. Warnings: mentions of food & eating (obvi). Word Count: 1,200-ish i am completely delighted by @mcbeanzontoast 's artwork and these sweet lil drawings (1, 2) of Eddie are all i can think about, thank u for the inspo bb! <3 btw srry if this isn't how you like your eggs or if u hate alt-rock themed puns. but personally i feel very strongly about the over-medium thing.

“Eddie. Eddie.”

There’s still no response from the motionless lump on the bed. He’s twisted up in the thin, pilled sheets like he tried to fight them and lost. 

His breathing is slow and even, clearly still in a deep sleep. You hope his dreams are pleasant, but not so pleasant that he’ll be upset with you for what you’re about to do.

You lean closer to where you think his ear might be. It’s hidden under a mass of thick curls, but you're pretty sure you’re in the right spot.

“Eddie!” 

It comes out even louder than you intended. Oops.

“Huh!”

Eddie jolts awake and tries to roll over, but only succeeds in tangling himself further in the bedding. He squirms and struggles against the taut fabric for a minute, before giving up and letting his body go limp. His face scrunches against the brightness of the room, peering at you with squinted eyes.

You, who have already been awake for an hour. You, who have already washed and dressed and tidied yourself up. You, who are looking at him rather expectantly…? His full lips pull down in a frown.

“What gives?” he grumbles, unhappy to be conscious before noon. As usual.

“Sorry honey, but you didn’t hear me the first four times I tried.”

He sighs, then lets out a sudden gasp. He tries to sit upright, lurching sideways, still thrashing against that damn sheet. “Your interview!”

Bingo!

“Yes, my interview,” you say, too amused and in love with him to be exasperated. “Don’t worry, we still have plenty of time. But you can barely function when you first wake up and I can’t have you falling asleep behind the wheel. I figured I’d get you up now so you have time to adjust.” You reach out and cup his face, rubbing a thumb over his stubbly cheek.

He turns his head in your hand so he can kiss your palm. “Good thinkin', sweetheart. That’s why you’re the brains of this operation.”

You help untangle him and wander out into the kitchen while he heads for the bathroom. Because even bone-deep exhaustion is no match for Eddie's mouth, he pokes his head out so he can talk to you. “How’re you feeling, baby?” The words are garbled and foamy with toothpaste.

“Okay,” you call back from your seat at the table. Well, that’s kind of a lie. “Actually, I’m really nervous, but that’s normal, I guess.”

You really want this job to work out. Eddie’s dying for you to come and live with him in his apartment, but you want a little more financial stability before you move out of your place. You promised him that once you landed a higher paying job you would take the leap. The shiny prospect of perpetual domesticity with your favorite boy is riding on this position, and it's making you gut-wrenchingly antsy.

“You’re gonna be great!” he shouts from around his toothbrush.

Eddie joins you in the kitchen, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s in nothing but his boxers and mismatched wool socks. One is maroon, the other is green with stripes. “Great. You hear me? They’d be lucky to have you. In fact, you should be interviewing them, asking why they deserve to be your employer.” He’s teasing you, but he also means it.

Your stomach flutters at the praise, and at the sight of all that skin he’s showing. You know in your heart that he’s still so warm from sleep.

 He yawns, and stretches dramatically. “Have you eaten yet?”

You chuckle and shake your head. “No way. No appetite.”

“Well, you gotta eat. You need fuel on a day like today.” He crosses his arms and frowns at you.

That's humorous, coming from the guy who attended six years of high school running on nothing but mini-pretzels and Mountain Dew. “Eddie, I’m way too anxious to eat right now.”

“Listen, you’ll feel worse if you don’t eat. Because if you don’t have something in your belly, and you’re nervous, you’ll get lightheaded and pass out in the middle of the interview, in which case you won’t get the job, 'cause then they’ll all be thinking, ‘This girl has the temperament of a fragile Victorian woman. Why is she even here? She should be sent to the seaside for her health.’ You know?”

“I…guess so?”

“Trust me, sweetheart, you have to eat breakfast. Let me make you something.”

The Something in question is simple: toast with butter, and fried eggs, over-medium. “Runny enough to dip, but cooked enough so there’s no snotty white stuff,” he says sagely. “It’s the only way to eat 'em.”

You hum in agreement, but you’re more focused on the way he looks standing half-naked in front of the stove, spatula in hand, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

He insists on making your portion first, sliding the plate in front of you and kissing your head when it’s done. “Eat up, doll.”

You thank him quietly and start to eat, watching as he goes through the process over again for himself. Now that he’s taken care of you, some of the tiredness he was staving off returns. His movements get clumsier as his attention oscillates between assembling his breakfast and being your personal cheerleader. He bumps into the counter, nearly burns his fingertips on the stove, and knocks over a glass of orange juice, but steadfastly refuses your offer to take over. Stubborn. You put a pot of coffee on for him.

You feel calmer now, watching his ministrations, listening to his reassurances. You've found that Eddie’s presence seems to be the salve for all your silly little troubles. His throaty morning-voice and dimpled smile send a rush of warmth through you, putting you at ease, like a cup of something hot on a cold day. You feel so lucky to be loved by him.

While you’re adoring him, trying not to get misty-eyed thinking about it, your sweet boy’s about to transfer his second egg to his plate. He's almost done it when he’s wracked with another full-body yawn. It's powerful enough that his eyes close, and his arm jerks the wrong way, and the egg slips out of the pan. It hits the kitchen floor with a wet slap.

Quickly, he looks down, then at you, and then back at the egg. In one swift motion he scoops it up off the floor. “Five second rule.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Ed…” You’re tempted to chastise him more thoroughly because who knows when that floor was last cleaned? Certainly not Eddie. But the way he’s doting on you today makes you hold your tongue.

He shrugs. “Fine. I’ll wash it off.”

He turns the sink on so a thin stream of water comes out. He picks the egg up with his hands, and holds it under the faucet, turning it carefully so that each side gets a gentle rinse. It gets tossed casually back onto the plate.

Completely unbothered, he joins you at the table and digs in.

He finally catches the look on your face. Without swallowing the huge bite of food he just popped in his mouth, he goes -

“What?”

Afterwards, Eddie drives you to your interview just like he promised he would. When you emerge from the building some thirty odd minutes later, feeling victorious, he's right there to celebrate with you.

Neither of you say it, but you're both thinking the same thing. One bed. One kitchen table. One little apartment. One home.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot

[marvelousbelladonna]

“I think some of us need to maybe breathe and reconnect around with the things that make us happy. Or you know has to figure out what would bring ya down to earth.” -Ashton

“You’ve earn this, come on. You don’t even have to… just know what it feels like again ok… Remind yourself. Have some human contact.” -Ashton

Like a deep maroon-ish purple [Laudna’s new outfit]

“Oh”😏 -Fearne

“He far more powerful than all of us, except for maybe Imogen” -Laudna

Chetney: *Intense stare*

“It’s true” -Laudna

Don’t worry Ashton, Laudna definitely had some human contact.

I feel like it will be one of those three who figure out Laudna and Imogen kissed first

#critical role #cr spoilers #campaign 3 #c3e65 #marisha ray #laura bailey #laudna #imogen #imogen temult #pastel goth #southern gothic #laudna x imogen #imodna #ashley johnson #Taliesin Jaffe #travis willingham #chetney pock o'pea #fearne #fearne calloway #ashton greymoore

[hwaightme]

Use me (part 2)

THIS IS 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI FOR LEO KING'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut)

(part 1) (masterlist) (perma-taglist)

🥂 pairing: non-idol!mingi x fem!reader (implied yun... x reader - i wonder who...) 🥂 genre: smut, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers-ish 🥂 summary: you try to forget and return to what you know best, but what is on a sober mind quickly turns into a drunk phone call and a life-changing confession. 🥂 wordcount: 22.5k 🥂 warnings/tags: language, alcohol/drinking, over-drinking/being drunk, toxic behaviour, risky behaviour, unhealthy coping, trauma, implied past abuse/assault, flashbacks, numbing, one night stands, learning to love, learning to feel, mingi driving through the night, implied psychologist!mingi as job, fools in love and lust 🥂 taglist: at the bottom of the fic~ 🥂 a/n: this has been long in the works, first as a haunting thought, then as what you may see here. i'd love to dedicate this fic to @byuntrash101 <3 thank you for your continued support, for our love and friendship <3 to everyone, i appreciate you all, any and all reblogs, notes, thoughts appreciated, much love!

🥂 nsfw tags: dom-leaning switch!reaader, sub-leaning switch!mingi, protected sex, thigh riding, fingering, handjob, blowjob, facial, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, implied squirting, dirty talk, pet names (darling, doll, gorgeous... others...), loving talk/pillow talk, mentioned aftercare and general gentleness, reader is sober atp, explicit asking for consent, wearing mingi's t-shirt, a lot of kissing because they are all over each other, a whole lot of doting, sex that is like a hug

"I love you..."

A slam of the door.

Where it all began.

You. Left in a loud solitude. Ceasing to stifle your sobs with your tee and letting out an animalistic cry. An innocent creature who trusted unconditionally, only to be shot at point blank and abandoned once the fun chase was over. There was no one out there except yourself to mourn your loss. Trapped in a dark room for what you believed to be the rest of your years.

Harsh reality collapsed on you under impossibly strong gravity, and trapped you with one brutal swipe. Your heart was being eaten away by your acidic mind that kept on replaying, replaying, replaying the moments that had led to your metamorphosis. A catharsis in reverse, an autonomous inflictor of agony festering in every crevice. 

It was funny how one's thoughts could be so lucid, come the worst. You could clearly recollect just how grateful you had been that your mother, as always, was out of town, and upon her return would be in oblivious bliss, and how ‘wonderful’ it was that there was nothing to look forward to for the next day. Or perhaps ever. You did not want to lift your hopes again and again only for them to descend faster than light to the pits of hell signed with your name. No need. There was enough time to prepare your space, invite and get to know your unrelenting demons before the alarms reminding you of basic social functioning would ring, and your body would be torn from your whirlpool of torment to enter the hustle and bustle of crowds. Not one person was aware of who they were walking with. Who they were walking past. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder, and you tore yours out in an effort to distort and move on.

The luxury of time before the ringing of the digital bells. You could cleanse yourself until your skin was no longer yours, until what remained of your willingness to perceive could spot the etchings of a body. You could cut out every part of you that served as a reminder. Subject each one to the savage ritual, until you were pure. The perfect angel once more, no longer decorated in shades of blue and maroon inside and out. You could remove each lobe, each cortex of your brain and douse it in the strongest agents, and to the rhythm of the rippling waters from the sink submerge them in the illusion of bliss.

And yet, you had not moved an inch, choosing to remain as a stranger in your own flesh.

You could fight back. You could rise above and spit the venom of the scorned and those isolated by societal hellfire, raise the flag and tell the story of those who could not. Be larger than yourself, a self-starting role model, redefine yourself as someone who used their past as motivation, as a foundation for unshakeable morals that would lead you to a humanity-changing greatness.

But what good was it when you stopped feeling? What happened? Who were you?

It was a wave that took you in, providing you the satisfaction of prolonged sensory suffocation, suspending you in senseless attitude, order, and disposition. The self-hating rebellion that had reared its head and manifested itself within you, turned you into something out of a nightmare. But you had never realised just how intricate and terrifying was the persona you had materialised within yourself. The cavities and taboos that had now become intricacies and embellishments of the scarred soul would have been repulsive to you before. To the one who existed before that damned day, hour, minute, second.

Numb. You were numb. Always numb. Cruising through your years, silencing any possibility of truly healing. Because no. You were not damaged - you would spit at anyone who dared to call you that. You were not hurt - no signs of weakness could be found on the surface, and this was how you were surviving. You were above it. Nothing happened. What were you talking about? Nothing. Nothing at all. That was what you kept repeating to yourself until the mantra turned into the truth. Truth be told, you were not sure what you were mourning anymore, except that if you did not, out of habit, it would hurt until you would be twisted limb by limb into submission. And the life you had chosen would begin again - new day, same mistakes.

In the process of your radical renaissance into a fatal night-time goddess, you did try to find love. Those had been the last cries of a helpless bird plummeting from the sky. But it all cycled back to the same old thing. Besides, if nobody around you knew what love was, how could you be expected to comprehend, let alone give it? You could not be bothered to believe that there were outliers, nor delve into the reasons why things like ‘friends’ ever stuck around. You lived, you breathed, and that was good enough. You wanted to purge yourself of love.

That was how the three little words, in that haunting sequence, came to be your personal poltergeist; a curse to summon a despicable demon that you vowed to never utter. Bloody Mary, Beetlejuice - sure. Just not those three words. They had lost their significance aside from being the root of your troubles and despair. The words did not mean a person would stay. The words were not a promise that you would not be hurt. The words were not a shield that you could hide behind. So instead, you took to sharpening knives, being a spiteful hedonist in search of the last laugh.

Little did you know, love was a creative sadistic monster, and had been by your side all this time. It chose to attack you during the most pleasurable high – one that you had crafted and followed in perfunctory resistance.

"I love you, Y/N..."

It was almost the same. Only this time, it was you shutting the door. Running from yourself.

Your getup appeared almost comical now, as you sat, doubled over on the sofa in Wooyoung’s and San’s apartment. What had been a stunning pair of pumps was now a miserable member of the abandoned shoe society, piled in a corner right by the entrance and masked by an ancient collection of plastic bags, courtesy of San’s resourcefulness. The black dress that was threatening to ride further and further up your thighs at any moment was nothing more than shame vehemently clinging onto your skin.

While you were combating the whirring tornado of short- and long-term memories with a bouncing leg and a zoned-out stare into the carpet, your friends remained equally silent, knowing better than to disturb. Over the years they had never asked why you did things the way you did. They merely learned the patterns and accepted you as you were – an action for which you could never repay them, so you simply hoped that, at least sometimes, you were doing the same if they needed it.

Your cryptic sequence was broken only when you felt a warm fabric being draped over your shoulders, making you instantly stiffen, alert. The rush of foreign sensations made you gasp as your eyes darted up, to be met by San’s, who was sitting across from you on a faux leather ottoman. You had no recollection of when he had moved it from its original position by the wall, between the TV stand and an indoor palm tree, and it made you strangely guilty. You really had a knack for not paying attention to those close to you.

When San noticed your unfocused gaze, he slowly raised both of his hands, palms up, inhaling at the same time, and then lowering them, along with an audible, level exhale. You chuckled, making him break into a small grin – you were coming back. Not quite ready to touch what appeared to be a jacket or cardigan that was now embracing you, you put your own hands between your thighs, feeling their miniscule tremors as the adrenaline high subsided.

“You’re literally shivering, Y/N. Do you want me to, uh, bring you a blanket? We have a nice wool throw; a gift from San’s… mom… so you know it’s going to be cosy.” Wooyoung cautiously explained to you in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. He was standing off to your right, arms crossed.

The last time you had heard him use such a soft tone was when you had come with him to visit a friend’s newborn – and even then, he had to have been reminded to ‘shut it or he would be on nappy changing duties for a week’. It made you want to scream, act out, anything to push away this coddling and belittling that was passed off as sympathy. Oh, how you despised when people seemed to walk on eggshells around you. There always existed a desire within you to prove to others that you never needed help, or at least would never ask for it explicitly. That was why, even now, during your rather turbulent departure from the first night in a while that you knew you would not forget no matter how much you might want to, you did not want to play it cool. You needed to.

“That’s because you guys appear to be saving on your electricity bills. I told you: an apartment with heated floors is a bad idea.” you attempted to keep your voice level, but it remained airy and weak, wholly ignoring your efforts. It was as if somehow, your body was physically worn from the marathons you ran in your mind.

“But it keeps my feet nice and toasty.” Wooyoung whined and wiggled his toes demonstratively

“Which is why you… ah nevermind. Cool apartment, either way. I knew you guys were secretly interior designers.”

The topic change helped you get more comfortable in your skin. You finally managed to find the energy and courage to grab onto the edges of the jacket, which had turned out to be Wooyoung’s beloved grey fleece zip up hoodie and pull it tighter around you. It wasn’t so hard to recognise the relief that had washed over your friends’ features as they saw you carry out the simple motion. It really was cold. Though you had no way to distinguish between the internal and external.

As you transitioned from reliving the past to inching through the present, step by step until you found yourself leaning against a kitchen counter with a mug of hot coffee cradled in your hands, your habitual mindset returned. The lines, turned stark and agonising after hearing those forbidden words had regained their hazy infusion, reinvigorating you with a pleasant buzz of numbness, reminiscent of the prickly sensation when muscles just began to wake up, albeit more lulling, something only a person who was alive in the soul was capable of experiencing. It was not long until your friends’ suggestions and extensive monologues began to fall flat on your ears, drifting through your body and expelling themselves to never be remembered. You watched their lips move, their hands paint pictures of a future for you in the air, and yet it all turned to darkness. You swiftly turned the lights off to their reprimands, their comfort, just like you had done before. It was clear that they did not expect much from you either, otherwise why would they sound so well-practised? A sense of deja vu washed over you; as if you had been in the same place before, with the same heavy weight in your chest, cradling the same mug and drinking the same beverage. Were you ever going to change? 

Wouldn't it be funny if you knew how to follow advice? Technically you did. For an entire two weeks thanks to Wooyoung and San forcing you into a movie night with them on the Friday in the middle of the madness - you do not remember a single one of the movies watched, all of them having turned into a blur, and you: a jittery mess. You needed your weekly diversion, your sensual fix that you had ingrained into your routine as if it was yoga or pilates. Tom-ay-to, tom-ah-to. Your version was just a lot more exciting than the average physical exertion in the name of wellbeing. So as you had sat between your two friends, with San having his hand lazily thrown over your shoulders, serving as your head rest, and Wooyoung having made your lap into his pillow, you envisioned a different comfort for yourself. All this cosiness was making you choke, suffocating you as an anaconda would at an astonishingly fast pace, and you could feel that another second more and you would prefer to call your closest friends - strangers. You needed out; at least one day of the week, like you three had done previously. You had tried to hint to San that maybe returning into the swing of things would let his heartbreak pass more quickly, but he only patted your head and gave you a melancholy smile. Though you had returned it, just to soften the blow and reassure him through his romantic solitude, behind your cheek was a bitten tongue, acting as the last straw between your molars and preventing you from making matters worse - at least for San and Wooyoung. You had nothing to say for yourself; actually, you never did. You were never one for self-descriptions or elaborations, preferring to show and not tell. Another reason why in this platonic silence, you were being driven into craving your favourite meal of depravity, where the only language spoken was that of action and seduction. If you were to succeed in moving on from the mistake that still lingered on your skin - kisses trailing the mazes of your body and ghosting over your lips, you needed to erase them by the same method. Time to take matters into your own hands, and that meant a new dress, a new pair of heels, a new club and a new accessory for one night.

You could not hear anyone nor anything. Most importantly, you could not hear your erratic heartbeat, nor the thoughts that were looming over you and speeding around your mind palace. No - if anything was going to take your breath away, it would be the lips of another stranger. Anything to erase the ones that were too laden with emotion, too laden with affection and infatuation for you. A toxic poison that had transferred right into your bloodstream and was beginning to eat you alive. You needed to escape, find a cure to this turmoil before you succumbed to the idea that anyone could care about you more than for a night. There was satisfaction in routine, in a fluorescent madness that was systematically established in your life as a way to let go, thereby gain control. You needed a hit, badly, and one so strong that the weekend would not exist for you, and Mingi's lingering touches would be fully wiped from your body. How dare he spill his darkest secrets to you, mixing nightmare with the ultimate fantasy? He was going to pay for thinking that he could control you in this way and spin threads out of your soul, not by confrontation, but by your sheer indifference. He was just a man, you had repeated to yourself like a mantra as you stepped into a club in a completely different part of town, looking ever so stunning in a deep burgundy dress; he had no influence over your actions and you owed him nothing, not even an explanation. Obviously, he was the one who had overstepped boundaries that he was supposed to sense were there, so why should you consider his melancholic eyes, the sunny smile that had set as soon as he would wake up to see you gone, the- 

No. No more Mingi. Only the beautiful stranger who was devouring you with his alluring orbs, looking past his friends and making you feel as though you were the sole being in that hall. This was the man who could help you forget, at least you hoped he would. Sauntering straight to the bar, you did not spare him as much as a glance when his figure drifted past you. You could sense more gazes following you, just how you always liked it, burning away those adoring caresses that made your skin crawl; you needed a sensory and sensual apocalypse, a purgatory for the damned, reducing your life back to that familiar sin that tasted so sweet and was a stone cold bitch in the morning. You were not some frail creature waiting for a proclamation of love for the sake of validation, nor were you a seeker of such types of closeness - if anyone, it was you who knew it was more fleeting than a good fuck. At least there was satisfaction and sport to gain from the later, and the heart remained caged and untouched. It was not hard to be animalistic, all you needed to do was to give up ruminating those classic "do they like me do they not", and slam the door to social niceties shut. There was no room for feelings when you needed to fly from the tormenting earth, for they were too heavy - a ballast that you needed to rid yourself of as soon as you could. The haze, you needed to give into the tipsy haze; one drink, another, and the world was beautiful. Stunning, even. The blur was an acute desire, accentuating sensuality and letting you transform into the killer queen of the night. 

In this wondrous dissociation, you could not care less about who you were nor who the people around you paraded themselves as. It was all a play-pretend, and may the most talented actors win. No one came to the club to fall in love, and if they did, they were sure to have their heart broken and stomped on, over and over, and over again. Finishing the last of your old fashioned - a drink which you had been introduced to by none other than your friend Wooyoung, you decided that it was time to let yourself go on the dance floor, only to be followed suit by the tall man whom you had subconsciously beckoned. Clearly, he was interested in the same exact thing, and took no time in approaching you, disregarding all other people, and laying a hand on your hip to lead you in a sultry, rhythmic dance further igniting your hope and anticipating desire. You chuckled to yourself as you felt that familiar buzz once more, and studied the way in which your temporary partner's muscles moved in an unbelievably enticing manner under his shirt - material for your lustful imagination. The heat from his body was addictive, and the adrenaline and dopamine-fuelled pace at which you moved to the intense beat left you even more determined than usual. You needed him. You needed this stranger, depended on him and trusted him more than any of your friends, and definitely more than a certain someone who thought he could be something more. As you took your so-called saviour by the collar and tugged so he would be only an inch away, you finally asked his name. His eyes revealed a flash of lasciviousness, just how you wanted, and he sent a shiver down your spine as he whispered back: 

"And with what purpose, sweetheart?" Chuckling airily, you pulled him even closer, until he smirked and wrapped his hands around your waist, more determined, more aggressive and expectant of a continuation in this dangerous game. 

"So that I know what I'll be screaming tonight." 

For a second, you felt him falter, breath hitching as he took in your words, causing fear to rise in your chest as a flash of the timid lovesick angel ran across your vision, and you could almost picture Mingi instead of the canvas for a good night who you were seducing. But this did not last nearly long enough for you to back down, and a line of kisses along the jawline, intimate yet loveless, purely carnal and revering your determination confirmed your selection. This man was on your wavelength, and this man was: 

"Bold of you to assume that you’ll be able to, sweetheart. I dare say it won’t be usef-." 

Use me.

The phrase flashed in your mind just as the attractive man closed the space between you, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Without as much as a pause, he tilted your head slightly, giving himself a better angle to lightly nibble on your lower lip, sending a shudder down your back. Fingers digging into your skin as he swallowed another sigh - a fragment of your tainted soul for him to keep, he was the embodiment of addiction. The luminance from the neon hallucinations that surrounded you were decorating your and his skin in vibrant greens and purples. He was confident, self-assured, leading despite possessing the hints of an otherwise reserved man. Your thoughts involuntarily drifted to a certain bashful someone who had ended up with you at the wrong place, at the wrong time, and you - in the wrong mindset. Tonight, you wanted to be used. This much you deserved and required in order to purge yourself of this newfound tendency to reminisce and compare everything against Mingi. Who were you? The one you chose to entertain yourself with tonight had his teasing tongue against your lips, not exactly asking for access - demanding it, and it reeled you back into the whirlpool of a daze that came with the deafening drumming of desire, growing louder and louder until nothing else would exist.

His touch - you were caught ablaze as you let him guide your footing off the dance floor and into the dimming lights towards the edges of the club’s main hall. His torso pressed against you, strong arm hooked around your upper body as he kissed the side of your neck. One blink, another and your back was pressed against a cool wall in the corridor that ran around the establishment’s perimeter, rarely traversed, often used by the likes of you and evidently, him. You could not bear to open your eyes out of fear of finding someone you did not want to see - the intensity of your recollections growing stronger with every arousing movement. The same high that you normally would be building up towards was nowhere to be sensed while your nameless lover reached for your breast, cupping and kneading it with an open, salacious wanting. There was little left to the imagination, just as you had initially wanted, and yet something was missing from the series of events that the universe offered to you; the storyline that you had crafted was beginning to get dreary. Squinting down to force yourself into this darling’s passionate kisses, you still struggled to rid yourself of the monologues, the fears and most importantly, the terror-inducing phrase that had pierced through your heart and left shrapnel in every organ, turning into butterflies in your stomach and flowers in your lungs. It hurt to discover yourself in the same situation as before, always looking for something and someone better. Clearly, your stalling and rapid cooldown had not gone unnoticed as the man pulled away, hands back on your hips, one lifting to readjust your dress a little. What had been the glare of a predator was replaced with an almost friendly concern, and the danger which you had craved a mere few minutes ago evaporated, leaving behind an approachable gentleman, the swiftness of the change nearly giving you whiplash.

“Trying to forget someone?”

The question was jarring, somehow more jarring than how he was now presenting himself. With a glance to either side, he took you by the hand, leading you away from what was about to be your scene for a one night stand and back to the main hall. Stumbling over your feet you barely kept up with his pace, his taste, his scent still consuming you and rendering you to move and think slower, the combination with the ringing of alcohol in your bloodstream proving to be reckless, nearly deadly. As the thrum of a hip hop track reset the heart’s pace, jolting you awake and clambering for any kind of reassurance, your eyes met the tall beau’s gaze once again. He had smoothed the locks that you had ruffled, his slightly swollen lips, curled into a lopsided grin being the only sign of what had just unfolded. You could not help but raise an eyebrow, only now registering his question and deeming the gesture to be an appropriate response.

“I don’t exactly fuck emotional baggage, if you get what I mean.”

“Ouch, but fair.” breathless, you squeezed the answer out of your throat, unsteady.

“Glad we understand each other, uh…” he trailed off, attempting to recall the name you did not give. You tilted your head, trying to do the same for him, but failing to find an answer. Did it slip your mind? The recent past turned to centuries, accelerating into emptiness. 

“Hm?”

“Yeah. Just, glad we’re on the same page, I guess.” he cleared his throat, looking back at the vibrancy of dance and sensuality unfolding before you. The music changed once more - once again, another song about a body count and about substances that you would never mention in the daytime. At least not yet. Your head began to hurt, perhaps only a little more than your heart.

“Y/N.”

“Mm…ha. Nice to meet you. You can call me… Yun.” he deliberated for a while before giving you what you assumed to be either a nickname, or a parting gift of a syllable just for you. 

“Nice to meet you, Yun.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, it was clear that he was looking for the right words to let you down slowly and make a swift escape back to his own life, his own friends, his own respective path that was far from yours. Very likely, as it should be. With a sharp exhale, you smiled, making it your turn to induce perplexion. With every vice came sacrifice and risk, and this type was far too common. Be it from starting on the wrong foot or losing the rhythm and steam in the process, two people under the cover of night with nothing tying them together were bound to drift away, it was simply a matter of when. Evidently this was happening sooner rather than later for you and what you had been hoping would be a solution to your anguish. It had to have been your fault, you told yourself while an unreadable gleam settled on your features and you gave the man a single wave to suggest that he need not bother with excessive politeness - after all you had gotten to know each other well enough for that, at least in your books.

“Guess I am right then.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Your reaction.”

“Meet quote unquote emotional women often?”

“They seem to be my type.” you chuckled as he shifted his stance and took a step closer to you, only to turn his body to observe the dance floor while standing by your side. As friends would. An involuntary memory stabbed at your side one again as you mumbled back:

“Maybe you’re a magnet.”

“I don’t mind when they look so good,” with a look to the side, Yun regarded your pose - leaning against the wall, arms crossed, previous aims for allure forgotten as your eased into a more comfortable back and forth, the rush ebbing away to be replaced with an anxious dissatisfaction, “Alas, you are in too deep I fear.”

“Am not.” you hissed out, brows knitting together as you desperately clung onto the present, only to hear and see the same voice, the same words, the same man who you were so adamant to erase. With every sentence uttered by the man, Mingi became more prominent. A laughing stock to the self and to all others - you shook your head. What had gotten into you?

“I don’t like to be called other people’s names during sex, sorry, not my kink.”

The out of pocket line, completed by a realisation at his own choice of words coaxed a chuckle out of your otherwise progressively crumbling state. Even though you had tried to remain below your limit, the alcohol in your system was hitting you with an inexplicable force, the pounding of your chest travelling to your temples, getting stronger until you could barely focus on Y- was it Yun? Yang? Yeong? You needed something to dull this. Remove this. Cut it out of your system so that you did not have to think.

“Fair.” you forced out, the neutral smile remaining on the lips, lingering traces of a falsified passion becoming your new tint, a colour you liked to wear so often it could be your favourite.

“Have a good night, yeah? Sorry things couldn’t be more fun, darling.”

There it was, you could read it on his face. Embarrassment, pity, the hope to never encounter you again. The reason why you always left first, turned around and strode away into the darkness from whoever it was you were to pick for the night. Including the one man who had revealed his soul to you; his innermost thoughts. And just like an automaton, a faulty machine, you blended his heartfelt words with the filth made for a landfill of lies and dread. The back of the failed thrill, whose name was just out of reach, growing smaller and blending into the scenery was a slap across the face, even though you had told yourself time and time again that you had seen enough of the same to not be affected. It had to be the lights, you told yourself. Definitely the lights. And how they reminded you of Mingi, how his eyes reflected the hues as he stared into yours so tenderly, like he was seeing an angel. How he gently held you, your fragility becoming his eternity as he whispered the words that acted like the flutter of the butterfly’s wings that caused the storm. Logic was struggling to keep up with your rumination - this was a different club and a different man, nothing about this could ever amount to the night you had felt like a goddess. If anything, the abandonment was gnawing at your flesh like a foul, feral beast, exposing you more than your dresses ever could.

An airy laugh accompanied your amble towards the bar. You should have known  - after all, if you were told to not think of the pink elephant, you would only think of the pink elephant. Same with the ‘no Mingi’ rule. It was an endless cycle that you were trapped in, and as days stretched out into two weeks, the avoidance was becoming unbearable. Your hand moved on its own as you called the bartender over, mouth and throat working together, far removed from your mind as they ordered champagne. Why? What was there to celebrate? There was no way of knowing, but the bubbles were your closest friends tonight, and you wanted to forget what just happened and whatever was supposed to happen until Saturday were to roll around - tomorrow could be the day you took care of the dirty laundry.

It did not take long for the beverage to transform you, and in a matter of a quarter of an hour with two or so glasses down you were back on the dance floor. But the vigour, the style and the soaring supremacy were nowhere to be found. As you tried to find your place among the sweaty bodies, nudged around by sharp elbows and tugged away by grubby hands, the sensation of belonging was but a mirage. Slow, you wanted to be anywhere in this cesspool of limbs, move along with the rest of the masses and get lost in the action so you did not have to consider your own movements, giving yourself up to the inertia of a wild crowd. One push, another, you were crammed between one figure and another, another push and a snag at your hair and you were flinging yourself wildly to an illusion of freedom in a different section of the floor. A phone flying beside you, barely an inch away from your cheek, flicking your earring and momentarily blinding you with a flashlight that had been left on. What were they looking for, you wondered. Perhaps the same thing as you. As you spun your head around, the pounding getting louder once again, the shoving had become more aggressive and two rough hands landed on your waist, supported by a lewd greeting. Jolted awake from chaotic musings, you grabbed a fistful of someone’s shirt, screaming out until the bubbly was rendering your speech incomprehensible - someone had to help you. Commotion unclear, breathing unsteady, the hands, the legs the torsos and heads all morphed into one creature who you were battling in your last fit of rage. Another pull, earning a yelp, and you were encountered with a familiar face. Y, or was it A, or I? Something or other, his name was a mystery to you. Tall. Handsome - you thought. In the blur it was impossible to detect. You remembered that he tasted sweet. Or maybe not - the champagne had taken over your system, your miniature party for one. Pushing yourself off the man you stumbled towards what you remembered to be the emergency exit. At least you were careful enough to avoid dragging yourself out of a club in shame from the front entrance; you were not that inexperienced to allow yourself to do that. 

Cursing under your breath you put one hand on the black wall of the corridor that would lead you to your freedom. Passing by a place your instinct was telling you was significant, you paused, only to shake your head and step forwards. One, two, three, four - congratulations, you could count. The coolness of the metal on the door was a relief as you leaned over unceremoniously to press your forehead against it, not caring if someone were to see you. You sighed into the sensation as the metal absorbed some of the heated rush, a portion of clarity returning to you and reminding you of your initial mission. That was right, you needed to get out. And ‘needed out’ in general.

With one quick shove the door swung open, spitting you out onto the sidewalk of, much to your fortune, a less crowded street, occupied for the most part by equally inebriated party-goers, celebrating the miracle that was a Friday night - a time that was slowly turning into your nightmare. A cacophony of beats and melodies from one club, another, all accumulating in a sonorous hellscape to render your senses almost fully numb. Feeling the air in front of you, you swore you could touch every particle, tendrils of wind brushing past you like a busy stranger. While there were not that many people, some yelling, others laughing wholeheartedly from the belly to the heavens, others simply enjoying the drinks that they carried out from their venues of choice, they most certainly had enough of a presence to leave you pitifully shattered. All eyes, of all hues and intensities, rolling and glaring and focusing on you. Poring over your miserable form and minimising you into a vermin under observation, a bacterium trapped on a petri dish under a microscope. They knew, they had to know about what had happened - about everything. They could read you from one year to another and were ready to tear you apart. They knew that you were a slave to the escapism, knew that you were a creature of lascivious habit, knew that you were thoughtlessly hurting the people you loved-

Loved. Nausea caught up to you as the word crawled into the forefront of your dazed mind, settling like a viscous tar over every subject matter and memory, over consciousness itself. Though it was nearly impossible to finetune your movements, you managed to locate the pole of a streetlight without having to slam a swinging hand into it for guidance, and slide down onto the edge of the cold pavement. Narrowly avoiding a discarded bottle, caked with unrecognisable substance and pulp from the wet and tarnished label, you felt your weight press into the stone, hoping that you would dissolve into the painfully rigid material. Elbows on your legs and hands on your face, you desperately tried to wipe the word away - you did not mean it, did you? You never had to say it, why say it now? Your familiar monster reared its head, drinking every last droplet of your sobriety to combat what you had admitted. Who did you love? Two legs drifted past you, stopping for a second to let a voice call out to you before you waved them off. Click-clack, click-clack away and away, leaving you alone with your thoughts once again. Who did you love? The pounding of your heart was overwhelming you, and you could barely hear yourself over its chaotic drumming. Who did you love? While it was easy to imagine your closest friends, the same ones who had tried to protect you from yourself and who, undoubtedly, were now cursing your name and the ground you walked on, your brain decided that there was another, less welcome character that should join the scene. With a groan, you clenched your hands into white-knuckled fists and hit your temples, once, twice as though that would help in getting rid of the precious image.

This had to be happening because Mingi said it first. The reason why Mingi was the one to persistently sway you, haunt you even when you were purposefully trying to drown in yourself and others, had to be because he planted those words in your mind when you least expected it - forced them upon you, an unwelcome gift. This was how it always happened: drawn in by the attention, promised a future and wholehearted adoration, you gave your all, only for the one who dared to utter the words to step away, having fulfilled their needs. ‘I love you’ was an exchange token, and apparently, your local currency. Like a penny out of rotation, those words should not hold any meaning, but they did, and you hated yourself for it. You hated how easily they had rolled off Mingi’s tongue, hated how they replayed in your head more times than you could process, hated how they were the words you wanted to hear again. Out of all the words in every language, these were the ones that introduced pain to the world.

He needed to answer for himself, your mind decided. Your rationality would consider the consequences later. Now, you needed answers. To what questions? That, too, could be decided at a later time. Clumsy hands searching in your purse, roughly pushing aside a slim card wallet and keys to take out the device which was now illuminating your fatigued features, the glare of the screen making you squint, every number and letter barely legible due to an intense blur that dominated your vision. If only you could wipe it away - a hand reaching to rub at the eyes, not caring for the eyeshadow nor the mascara, more darkness, friction, light again. As you moved the phone closer and further away from you in an attempt to find a golden distance that would give you better focus, as if you were operating with a broken camera, the thumb kept on searching for the right number. Contact after contact names flew by, turning into one continuous line, with the surnames and nicknames twisting and turning like snakes, colliding trains in your brain until finally, you found him. Not in the contacts, but in the myriad of messages you had left on read - another pattern characteristic of yours. It was not that you wanted to leave people behind, but your hands never felt strong enough to respond, and your thoughts could never tie together a satisfactory response. So you stayed silent.

He had checked on you, apparently. Asked if you were okay. The first time was two weeks ago. Then ten days. Then, radio silence. Probably was mad at you. You could not blame him. There had been no explanation, nor any wish to contact from your end - while it was what you usually did to strangers, not catching their name beyond the bedroom, nor ever seeking them out after you used their bodies, Mingi had been a friend. Not anymore, at least that was certain. But still, habit could not cut it here. This was why you needed answers - why could he not act like everyone else and fall in line, into the clear cut moulds? Finger hovering over the call button, now burning into your skin, you could not stop yourself from shaking. Biting your lip, all hints of colour replaced by a rekindling fire, you took the step over the edge, repeating his name in your head like a mantra as the call connected, and you imagined his phone starting to ring, somewhere out there in the city. Suddenly, your thoughts could not be more lucid, and you could almost see how the device would be vibrating on his bedside table. Right, he had to be asleep by now, surely. Just as you were about to end the call, however, the screen changed, and the time began to climb from zero.

“Uh… it’s… midnight or something… Y/N?” his husky voice, husky, warmer than the summer sun answered you. You remained quiet, afraid of letting this moment go, “Y/N? Are you okay?” he was asking if you were okay-

“Where are you?” a new harshness snapped you out of your temporary stupor.

“I- uh… I- am…” you tried, but could not find the right answer, however much you tried.

“Are you at… a club?” The pause was nearly lethal. You focused on the rustling in the background - it seemed that you were right and he indeed was in bed. Not anymore. A sigh and a thump, more movement. He was disappointed, wasn’t he? But he was listening. He had to listen to you.

“Not… not anymore.”

“Did someone hurt you?” The question felt foreign, unexpected. You raised your head, hugging your knees to your body, a terrible frailness seeping to your very bones.

“N-no…”

“Where are you?”

You could not believe that you were talking to Mingi. After all this time he was still talking to you, answered your late night call and was asking how you were. An angel in human form, so precious, so cute. A giggle escaped you as you found a slightly less dirty spot on the concrete to lean back and rest your hand on. Feeling some tension in your back unwind, your muscles were given freedom to turn restless. You wanted to scream, but that was bound to make Mingi end the call, and you did not quite want to stop listening to that voice of his - your strange addiction. Eyes closing, you let him repeat the question again, accompanied by jingle that could only be his keys. 

“I…”

“Street? Sign? Anything? Y/N,” he paused, exhaling, “...talk to me.”

“About…?” you asked, not catching onto what he meant.

“About the damn location. I am coming to get you.”

“Wait… really?” you slurred, fighting the desire to pass out, weighed down by another wave of tiredness.

“Yes. You are drunk. It is the least I can do.”

“What’s the most?”

“Location, for fuck’s sake. Check the street name or something. Can you walk?” he shot back, louder than before, speaking right into the microphone, the last bits of sleep evaporating from his tone, leaving behind the deep vocal ocean that you wanted to drown in.

“Uh huh,” whether you were lying or not, you were about to find out. Clambering for the street light once again, you heaved yourself up, barely catching yourself before tumbling back down, unstable on your heels. Clearly, your heavy breathing was caught by the phone as you heard Mingi asking if you were okay, again, “...just peachy, darling.”

The pet name never sounded more natural and comforting than now, flying to and through Mingi like lightning. The silence over the line was a terrifying suspense, making you wonder about what you said. You could not find anything particularly wrong. Wasn’t this how people who cared about one another spoke? Blinking away the stars in your eyes that were ceaselessly twirling in flashes of white and black, you wobbled towards a rectangle on the corner of the small street, which had to be the sign that Mingi was asking for. Mumbling the words on the board, half to yourself, half to him, you commended the otherwise laughable victory of being able to pick out the characters and interpret them.

“Okay… not too terribly far. I’ll come pick you up. Do not wander. Did you hear me?”

“Mhm…”

“What did I say?”

“...uh something about wandering, right?” An exhale. More footsteps. 

“Stay where you are. Stay. Heard me?”

“Yes Mingi darling, I did.”

“Good I- yeah. Just. I’ll be right there.”

Beep. Silence. A car in the distance darting past. Laughter. A flicker of the streetlight. The breeze caressing your legs. People walked past as you hugged your form, aware that it would not do anything to help you. You were counting the threads, the pieces of cloth sewn together to form what you had considered armour with the tips of your fingers, every groove accentuated as you swayed in your solitude, convinced that what had just happened was a dream. It had to have been. Who would listen to you in this state? It had to be your mind playing tricks on you, feeding you more and more visions until you would snap under them.

Fine. You were going to call him tomorrow, yes, that was right. When you were feeling better, you would call Mingi, apologise. Maybe over a coffee - yes that was better. Did he drink coffee? Was he even in town? Questions climbed up the walls of your consciousness while you, frustrated with the way in which the straps of your high heels were digging into your skin, crouched to take the culprits of your physical pain off. One shoe, another, and you were freed from the localised dolor. Stillness transforming into an amble, you made it a mission to walk to the larger street. There, you could get a taxi - there were always many of them around night time in neighbourhoods like this, kind drivers with kind metres if you gave them a pretty enough smile. 

Stay where you are. I love you. Stay where you are. I love you. Stay where you are.

Who said that? You froze mid stride, losing balance onto to have your back hit the brick wall of the building to your side, just under the sign you had read out to - 

So it did happen after all. You had talked to Mingi. Moaning out in frustration, you slid down the rough structure and onto the ground beneath you, throwing an empty water bottle and a fast food wrapper away from you in anger. Unable to recall what you had said to him, you settled for piecing together his voice, hands emulating the linking of a jigsaw puzzle in front of you. Purse having long become a bracelet, and phone clenched in one of your hands as if it was permanently linked to your body, the only thing that existed was every phrase that he had uttered into your ear, like he was standing by you. So much for not thinking of Song Mingi. Way to go. What a treacherous night this was. Head feeling heavy, you began to give into the signs of oncoming slumber, nodding off, cheek approaching shoulder, earring brushing over bare skin.

Mingi was not one for breaking the law, but his accelerator most certainly was. Rushing past every traffic light as though each one was a checkpoint, he sped through the city’s sleepless streets, only the final destination being his priority. Heart pounding, he barely looked at the navigator on his phone as he slammed on the gas. Ridiculous. Radical. If he were to ever tell his friends about this, they would call him a fool. After two weeks of nothing, for him to jump at the first call - he was clearly making the same mistakes, every turn a wrong one. If scouting clubs for the next pleasure hit was your addiction, burning himself on your flames was his. In the icy silence his days had been serene, and he hated it. There was no expectation, nor any hope for him to cling to. In the morning after you had left, even though Mingi had anticipated this and promised himself that he would not be upset, his preference was clear: it was better to live in an illusion rather than face the fact of not being wanted, and never standing a chance. You had turned your attention to him when he had asked for you to use him - that was the place he should have known and stayed if he wished for you to ever look in his direction again. 

That was why when his phone lit up with your name, and a photo filled the screen, one that he had taken of you when you, him, Wooyoung and San had all gone to a nature reserve for a spontaneous weekend getaway which you probably did not remember but it was precious to him, he threw sleep out of the window. It was easy enough, considering his recent pre-sleep routine of rationalising the events of that night. His mind was already trained on you when he finally got you to speak. You were floating, not quite like yourself, but your feelings were clear - not a hint of malice towards him, dreamy, rendering him breathless.

Mingi blamed himself for not being persistent enough, instead choosing to take a step back and give you whatever space you wanted or needed. He had done that in university when you were still friends, he had done it right up until that night, it was nothing new. Let you forget him until you suddenly craved his company, or felt it necessary to invite him to whatever function you had scheduled. Running a hand through his hair, short and strawberry blonde, hints of pink across the strands giving way to darker roots, he tried to calm his nerves. It was torturous to picture you in a vulnerable state, on a night when you normally felt and looked invincible. But since you called him, it was his duty to ensure that this held true.

Only a couple of minutes later, Mingi found the required street and, upon making a turn he slowed down and halted beside a figure curled up by the side wall. He cursed himself for not being faster. Panic shot up his spine and across every limb. He made a beeline towards you, shutting the door to the driver’s seat particularly hard in his distress. Assuming the worst, Mingi was in front of you in the matter of seconds, crouching down to peer at your face, noticing the smudged mascara, lipstick traces trailing onto your skin, flushed cheeks, sickly, glazed over and half-lidded eyes. Scowling, he regarded you in your Friday night glory, wondering why you thought you deserved this self-treatment in the first place.

“Y/N.”

No response. You remained stationary, with only your head occasionally threatening to fall to the side, hair snagging on the rough, eroded bricks behind you. Carefully, Mingi reached out, balancing himself on his bent knees, and pushed back a lock that was obscuring your face, convincing himself that you looked better already. Heart aching, he tried calling out to you another time, and then another, naively hoping that you could ascend from your state in an instant. As he put his hands on your delicate shoulders, gingerly tilting you forwards and away from the freezing, disgusting wall, he bit back his logic and chose to listen to the senses that you had so easily manipulated. 

Was this really the same person who had him wrapped around her finger? Malleable, putty in his hands you sank into his hold as he wiggled back to try and get you to find your own footing. Rising into a standing position, he lifted you up, sighing in relief when, even if only automatically, you followed the movement. He wanted to be mad at you - his brain was yelling for him to leave, return to the comfort of his home, alone, and let you figure things out for yourself. That was easy - just forget about you and have no morals. Sure. You were in a dangerous situation. But did you not have any friends who could take care of you? Where were they? Head turning side to side as if that would give him an answer, Mingi checked his surroundings. Only a collection of strangers, some of whom were enjoying the free entertainment, at least until they felt his glare settling on them. Quick feet on the pavement, dissipating into the midnight darkness.

“Oh… oh…” you groaned, as though waking up from a restless slumber. In his surprise Mingi nearly slipped, only just managing to support you again by hooking his arms around your torso instead of under your arms.

“Y/N, you are like, drunk drunk.”

“Just a lit-tle tipsy… is all, Mingi darling,” you answered slowly, lifting a hand to pinch your thumb and index finger together to show just how sober you were apparently - if only the move was coordinated, then maybe at least it could have given a good laugh. 

The affectionate pet name was ringing in his head, and no matter how much, and with what strength he was trying to brush it off, the buzzing persisted. Clinging onto him, a vexatious beast, echoing the weeks that had gone by after he had so willingly given himself up to you. If he were to be honest with himself, he would not be able to forget you even if by some futuristic miracle, he would be able to reset his consciousness. You were his nightmare and his dream, a haze in which he was lost for as long as he was alive. Cursing himself over and over, he opened the rear door closest to the two of you, whispering his sequence of moves out loud, knowing full well that you were probably not observing, nor listening.

The only thing on your mind was the comfort that was Mingi himself. How he had pulled you closer, and your hands landed on his broad chest. Hands snaking under the varsity jacket he put over a cotton tee, you felt your fingers warming up, the toned, sculpted beauty underneath turning into an alluring stability. There was nothing stopping you from closing the space, was there? Squinting, you took in his face, gasping as he turned away from you, revealing his side profile. Glasses, perfectly perched on the bridge of his nose, ever so slightly parted lips, a determined scrutiny of whatever it was that was in front of him. You could almost taste it. Apparently, it was easy to forget prior losses when the one you had been searching for in other bodies appeared before you.

Certainly, it had to have been him at the club however long ago. It had to have been, you were only looking for him and got lost, right? Fully convinced that you were right, despite Mingi being dressed more for a late night walk along a river bank rather than for a night of clubbing and hedonistic debauchery, you mumbled, cowering while he was trying to turn you and get you to take a seat:

“I missed you… Mingi.”

Eyes still half closed, you tilted your head to look in the approximate direction of your saviour, or companion… friend? It could not be. There ceased to be any lines that you could cross, and you were, for the first time in a long time, okay with it. You did not need nor want the barriers, not when his perfume was your salvation, not when his strong hands were rubbing your upper arms, not when you watched him take off his jacket and wrap it around you in slow motion. It was warm. He was warm. But he was not responding. The quiet was deafening as he nudged your legs, motioning for you to hop further into the vehicle - so you were in a car, huh? A couple of thuds somewhere below you, and a pair of heels manifested themselves on the floor of the salon. Obliging, you fell back inside and saw the light shutting itself away from you. A click, and you were alone. Trapped. There was no Mingi. 

Wrapping your hands around the edges of the thick material, you pulled it tighter around you, emulating an embrace. Why were you left alone? Was this a prank? Was Mingi tricking you? Question after question, there were too many to answer in the midst of an oncoming headache, but you knew that you needed to leave this instant - Mingi was outside and he had to be waiting for you. After all, you needed to give him back his jacket. You were done running backwards. Just as you ran a hand over the door, looking for the right handle or button or whatever the car could possibly have, another door opened, revealing the same man, your same Mingi, still dressed in the same outfit as you had just seen, still in those glasses that suited him so well. 

Through the gap between the headrest and the main seat, you gleamed at him, reassured that you were no longer abandoned in the metal box. The corner of Mingi’s mouth twitched upwards, though the majority of his response was evidently suppressed. He had to be hiding something. He must be mad at you. This was because you had been gone for too long, and then reappeared drunk out of your mind - he had said so himself. His voice boomed in your ears, blooming into a deafening echo that muted the car’s engine. Only once the car started did the realisation hit you - you had no idea that he even drove. The last night you had been together, you had taken a taxi, and he was sitting right next to you - you could recall every touch on your skin, over your dress, his ragged, shallow breaths. You needed to sleep, this was a dream… a dream… it had to be a nightmare… you were planning on talking to Mingi tomorrow… you would call him as soon as you woke up from this discord…

Crawling through the metropolis, the car stormed farther and farther from the district which you had decided to mark as your place of shipwreck. It was not the same location as before, he noted, now having more of an opportunity to piece together what had unfolded. If he was any more cynical and any less in love with you, he would have made it a case to point out that probably you intentionally had selected a spot that was a considerable distance away from your usuals because hell or heaven forbid your friends would stop you. Mingi had no clue as to what occurred in the time you were non-existent in his daily life, but evidently it had taken a considerably negative toll. Passed out on the back seats, you were exhausted by the world in which you lived, the world which was mercilessly testing you and draining you for all you were worth.

Stopped at a lonely red light, the hue crept through the windshield, settling over the salon and the two lost souls contained within. Quickly taking out his phone to check the time - no longer needing it for navigation after having the route imprint itself in his memory, he pinched the bridge of his nose, careful not to let the glasses slip. It was almost one in the morning - the commotion and additional steps because of your inebriated state had accumulated, long leaving the last day of the so-called work week behind. Happy weekend - with a bitter aftertaste, he uttered the words under his breath, shoving the phone back in the pocket of his jeans and shifting to turn around to take a quick look at you. You were peaceful, your features fully relaxed. Your purse had turned into something of a pillow, and while your legs could not exactly rest comfortably on the seats, you appeared to be blissful how you were, nuzzled into his jacket. Drifting in his musings, studying your every detail Mingi almost did not notice the lights change, relying solely on instinct to switch gears and move forward. With one last glance, he continued his journey, realising that he was not sure where your home was. Driving you to your closest friends was not an option either, considering that you did not mention nor call them - and if you did not want to see them, he should not be the one to orchestrate a falling out. There was always time for drama, but he did not want to extend it for himself.

Making one final, decisive turn that would take him to his neighbourhood, Mingi gripped the steering wheel to curb an accumulating nervousness. It was a sudden pang, a memory lifting itself up from the chaos he had brushed under the carpet after you had spontaneously left. He had not been fully asleep, simply spent and trustful, but everything stopped him from following you. As if a spear had mounted him to the bed - he was nothing more than a feeble bug on display, rotting. There was nothing he could have done, he was sure, except maybe not saying what he had said. In retrospect it was easy to see that those three words had been the final shot in the torn up heart. So, for the better, he was not going to say them, and pretend he never did, if that was what was going to let you sleep better and recover. That night was long in the past, and should be treated as a spectre. As weeks would go by perhaps you could look at him again, and be genuine in your feelings towards him. And he would not have to put himself up for sacrifice to gain your attention. 

Soon enough, his apartment building was in sight, and the wheels rolled him closer and closer to his next dilemmas. Letting out a trembling breath, Mingi clicked a button on his keys once he approached the gates to the underground parking. You were as still as ever, consumed by your slumber. Coming to a halt at his designated spot, he killed the engine and fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. The noises that had crawled out from the club turned into wisps of risk and melancholia, clinging onto your otherwise gorgeous dress and filling the vehicle until that was all he could sense. Hands on the steering wheel, Mingi attempted to plan his next moves, thinking of the trip to the elevator, the ride up, and just how he could convince you to be lucid enough to help him in getting you cleaned up. Love and confusion aside, you were a person who needed help and support, and he was the one you had trusted in your last moments before losing sobriety.

It was a long trip. From you not quite being able to make it out of the car, to you nearly tumbling into the elevator and dragging Mingi down with you, the young man was sure that he had never had to be on such high alert ever in his life. Not even when he had to act in the role of a sleuth to figure out where your lectures had been back in university, and whether there was any way in which your paths could cross. It seemed that now he did not have to force fate’s hand quite as much. With one final stumble over the door frame that marked the entrance to his apartment, you were in, safe and secure from the outdoors, and Mingi could begin thinking more comfortably. Kicking off his own shoes, he ignored the feeling that arose when you intertwined your fingers with his as you waited. Rubbing sleep from your eyes, there was something endearing about you, pleasantly childish qualities protruding through the hardened exterior of an experienced seductress. Like there was still some vulnerability left, and Mingi was the only one to see it. Adjusting his glasses out of habit, or perhaps to mask his growing concern due to your spontaneously peppy disposition, he tugged on your arm, making you follow him past the living room and towards a breakfast bar that served as a divider to the kitchen. Stopping mid-stride, he turned and pointed for you to take a seat on the sofa.

You had vague recollections of the interior, but the lighting, which remained dim, prevented you from making out any details. After Mingi left your side, you curled your legs under your body and flopped onto the decorative pillows that occupied the right corner. Huddling as if it was your nest, you made yourself comfortable. Without him being right next to you, the sensation of being embraced remained. He was in every thread and every space; you could finally inhale and exhale tranquillity. Clinking of glasses and the sound of pouring piqued your inquisitiveness, albeit fuzzy in the half-consciousness, and you called out to Mingi’s approaching figure, a loopy grin plastered on your face.

“He-hey, let’s get the party started… is that champagne?”

“Oh, so that’s what’s got you… like this?” with the hand that was holding the full glass, Mingi gestured over your body.

“Like how? How am I now?”

“Like a bar after a football match.” he deadpanned, carefully taking a seat next to you and grabbing your hands. Upon ensuring the cup was secure in your grasp, he fell backwards to rest his head on the back of the couch, momentarily shutting his eyes. He was curious if you would be able to figure out that what you were about to drink was water.

“Huh? You’re mean…” mumbling to yourself, you lifted the beverage, taking a tentative sip. The cool liquid soothed you, eliminating the burning that occupied your mouth and throat for however long you had been in and out of the handmade turmoil. Greedily you took a gulp, another, until nearly all the water travelled to nourish your dehydrated, fatigued self. The cup, too, possessed a welcome coldness, refreshing, a change to the static that was rolling like thunder in your cranium. You could not resist the temptation to put the glass against your temple, sensing another wave of the dull ache returning to you.

“How much did you drink?”

“Interesting question. Just drank a whole glass,” you teased, aware that Mingi was likely after a different response, but you were all for omitting the truth as much as you could.

“I mean out there.”

“Where?”

“The club.”

“Oh… uh… a… a couple here and there.”

“Knowing you, that is like a whole bottle.”

“What can I say? I have a high tolerance.”

“If only you had a better tolerance for other shit,” his comment caught you off guard. Said to no one in particular, but staying suspended in the air, the phrase was less supportive than what you would have hoped for. He was definitely mad. The anxiety that had been resting on your shoulders like a foul beast stirred awake, digging its nails into your skin until the question you asked far too often slipped away from you, throwing you back into your antique patterns, ones you thought you had buried for good.

“Are you mad at me?” you sounded timid, and a hand instantly flew to your mouth, clumsily covering it. Mingi’s eyes shot open, him giving you a once over from his leaned back position. Sitting up, he raised an eyebrow.

“Say what now?”

“I… are you mad at me?”

“Wh-... why would I be?” he cleared his throat, curious as to what you had conjured and were proposing as an interpretation of his actions.

“I… well I… I am too much aren’t I… I am here, you are - wait what time is it? It should be so late, or early… ha, ha, I don’t even… wait so are you not mad at me? But I am just so all over the place and now I am… wait - what time? Is it? Are you supposed to be sleeping, oh my goodness yes you are I am intruding aren’t I, I should be home, wait how did you find me? Were you there with me? Was I doing anything weird oh why did I go tonight I was not supposed to go but no I had to go and forget you know I wanted to forget everything but you kept on coming back are you ma-”

“Y/N-”

You were speeding up, forgetting air, forgetting that you were safe. You imagined yourself to be in the middle of the ocean, clambering for anything to hold on to. But the more you struggled, the less you could see, and yet you could only continue speaking. Faster, faster, filling the emptiness with your every thought as if there was no space neither in your heart nor your mind to keep them close and safe. As if this was a bargaining token or a confession, and Mingi was the one to deliver a final judgement, or to pardon your every sin. You were afraid of what he could do, or maybe not do. The only thing that was vivid enough for you to grasp was the idea that you did not want him to go, and so you were desperately trying to catch every word you had uttered in your past that could possibly deter him. Oxygen was not an option when Mingi, your 'not quite a friend anymore', was on the line.

“Mad at me and I am not even sure why this is happening actually I know exactly why and I am sure this is a dream right now I mean you definitely hate me now maybe not before but surely now I did everything to make you hate me and I am just a mess I probably look the part I am sorry I am sorry I am so-”

“Y/N BREATHE.” with a raised voice, he cut you off. You had not noticed him lift himself off the sofa and move in front of you. He pushed the coffee table further back to give himself more space, and kneeled on one leg while prying the glass from your shaking hands. Though you had ceased to barrage him with sentences of raw dread, your breathing was still shallow, barely spaced out, lungs roaring for more, praying for relief.

Glass left on the table, Mingi’s hands clasped over yours, his gaze unwavering, searching. You could not read him. Everything you possibly wanted to say was bouncing around your skull in a painful flurry, inducing a lump that started to grow in your throat, accumulating mistakes and emotion. You did not deserve to face the man who was in front of you, but even when you tried to break away from his touch, he held on, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Breathe. Let’s count, shall we? Focus on my voice, okay?” Now, inhale, two, three, four-”

Switching approaches, Mingi distracted you. After a couple of rounds of counting, noting your darting glances he asked for you to point out three colours you could see. Three pieces of furniture. Slowing you down, gradually, grounding you until you were only the slightest bit unsteady. 

“I am sorry.” you mumbled, doubling over, forehead against his hands. In shock, Mingi did not retract them, instead staring at how your hair cascaded over your shoulders and down, down like a waterfall, glimmering softly in the night lights that crawled into the room through every window.

“For what?” barely a whisper, only a hint of curiosity in anticipation of hearing something less than pleasant. 

“For leaving,” he replayed the words in his head in utter disbelief. Never had he heard you apologise for disappearing, abandoning, making decisions that put you first. He had gotten used to it, considering it to be a trait that was normal to you, one that those close to you simply had to deal with. The two little words shed a new light, making him wonder just how you felt two weeks ago. You were not done, however, feeling the need to spill the secrets you had been holding, in the intimacy of night, of not having to look at him, “for going out and for thinking strangers could… could-”

“It’s okay… I-”

“How is it okay?” lifting your head, a portrait of misery was revealed. The makeup that had already travelled across to other parts of your face was now starting to etch streams down your cheeks, the tears being the only ones to confidently make their way. Mingi was at a loss, never having been able to predict that this night would end, or begin, like this.

“Well…”

“How? Please… I am… disgusting… Why do I always do this I-”

“Hey. Hey, listen to me,” hands on your cheeks, thumbs wiping away the rolling droplets, Mingi was reaching out for you, calling you back from the abyss into which you wished to fall, “first of all, no behaviour is quote unquote disgusting, you hear me?”

“Uh huh… but… but I hurt people- I… I hurt you…”

“Look, I know we have never had any deep one on ones before, but I know you are hurting. I think that answers quite a few things, doesn’t it?” trying his best to remain rational and calm, Mingi recalled phrases that he had been told many times, had said before, only now they held colossal meaning, weighed down by what had happened. 

“But why are you…”

“What I do is my choice, just like what you do is yours, yeah?”

“But I choose badly… like today at the club I-... I-” you tripped over your words, the recollection forcing you to shudder. Sensing the buildup, Mingi diverted your attention by holding your hands once more.

“So how can you choose better? I mean, let’s think about tomorrow. What were you thinking of doing? Take me through the day. Say, you wake up, you…” he gestured for you to continue after him.

“I… brush my teeth, fix my hair and clothes… make breakfast… call you," you stopped, staring into his dark eyes, shining with bittersweet tenderness. For the first time, he wanted to believe that you indeed were drunk.

“Call me?”

“...I was planning to…”

“Even if you found someone?” The comment stung, but was not unfounded. Mingi knew you far too well for you to deny that you would at least attempt to fill the weekly void.

“I only kissed him… I promise…”

“I,” tightening his jaw repeatedly, Mingi resisted the urge to snap, or to make any accusations. It was obvious to any fool that you had lived through enough without him adding fuel to the hellish fire, “like I said, your choice.”

“I don’t want to make it anymore.”

“Then make another. And keep trying until you find the one that’s right for you.” 

Dumbfounded, you could only look, and wonder if the man in front of you was real and was not figuring out ways to throw you out of his apartment. The idea could not be further from the truth. While he had to admit that the circumstances were not particularly romantic, nor was Mingi about to take every word and action as gospel, but this had to be the most candid he had ever seen you be, and the most open with him. Behind the gloss of a night fuelled by percentages, shots and bubbly, garnished with regretful actions and hopes for a restart, you were easy to read, your intentions and actions honest and benevolent. 

“I was going to call you,” you reiterated with conviction.

“Tomorrow,” Mingi responded, switching his positioning to sit down on the floor, one hand still holding onto you while the other flew to find purchase on the carpet, offering balance. His thumb traced patterns on your skin absent-mindedly while he waited for you to continue.

“Yeah.”

“And what were you going to do?” there was no way to know whether the answer he would hear was one he wanted to, or was ready to hear. Of course, he liked to believe he was used to you, but not to your new feelings.

Had it hurt when he realised that he had been discarded, just like he had anticipated? Of course. Had his closest friend given him an earful after finding him wholly zoned out during their scheduled mid-week lunch? Definitely - the words still stung him. But was Mingi in any way angry with you? He could not be even if he tried. You had stayed true to yourself, and he should be happy that you did. And yet, the hope he had been living with remained persistent, and your present actions were not helping him in getting over it.

“Apologise…” you leaned closer to him, drowsy, freed from inhibition. 

“And?” his voice dropped into a whisper as he could not bear to take his gaze off your and his hands.

The usual you, the alluring, domineering you who had one mission and one mission only on this night: to have a good time at any cost, was starting to resurface. You were grappling with your inner conscious, hoping to resurrect what you had previously labelled as confidence.

“Kiss you,” your act dropped quickly enough as you read the sadness in Mingi’s form, from the droop of the shoulders to the loosening of his hold on you, to the half-hearted joke that made you flush an embarrassing shade of pink. Awful, inducing the desire for the ground to disappear beneath you, but you could not stop.

“Through the phone?”

“No… on… like… a date?” shy, you proposed the idea to him.

“What’s with the questioning tone?” leaning back on both hands, Mingi regarded you. His black-rimmed glasses had slid down allowing him to look over the frame and into your soul, making you shiver. There was a seriousness in the gesture, a cold air of professionalism that you knew Mingi was capable of, but never experienced being directed at yourself. 

“I don’t know… I haven’t dated in a while I guess…” finding interest in the hem of your dress, you fiddled with the thick fabric.

“What’s got you so into it now?”

“My choice,” you echoed his words, earning an amused smirk. After a meek pause, you pushed out the inquiry, barely audible, “Would you kiss me back?”

“Depends on what you’re feeling when you kiss me.”

“But you said you loved me, didn’t you? Mingi?” you straightened yourself up, feigning nonchalance, pretending to not be hurt by the passivity that rested on Mingi’s face as he studied you. 

He wished he could make this easy and lead the conversation to a happy end, but that would only end in turmoil. Whatever you remembered, and whatever was so fresh in your mind could change in the blink of an eye, and later, in the morning, sober you could begin to despise yourself, and him in one go. The last thing he needed was for you to disappear from his life. So, it was better to restart. He bit his tongue for a couple of moments, swallowing every phrase that he had ceaselessly been repeating like mantras meant only for his walls to hear and hold no judgement towards, and selected denial, for your own benefit.

“...No such thing.”

“But I swear I-”

“I think it’s time to clean up and sleep, yeah?” he cut you off with searing neutrality. Rising from the floor, he flicked his hands for you to follow his actions. Though you had recovered enough to balance on your own, at least if you were to take everything slow, you were stuck in place, wanting to hear what you had been secretly longing for to spill from his lips.

“But, wait I-”

“Sleep time,” adamant to move past the painful hurdle, Mingi reiterated the implied command. Moving to grab your hand, he lifted you from the sofa, only to let go once you were on your feet. Taking the opportunity, you took small fistfuls of his t-shirt, pulling the stunning man towards you. If he could not speak the words, surely he would want to express them?

“Kiss me now?” The question sounded more like an offer. Like you were placing your attention for sale, thinking that this was enough to establish a connection.

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

Mingi wanted to collapse. Your eyes, the tremble in your voice, how you looked with his jacket still draped over your shoulders had him wrapped around your finger. He did want to kiss you, a little too much, if he were to be honest. And that was exactly why he backed away. If you had meant what you confessed, you would be able to say the same thing in the morning, and to his face. If you had been meaning to call him, you would be able to call out his name and be honest in wishing to see him, to be with him.

“I’ll kiss you when you’re fully sober, okay?” The negotiation seemed to work as you visibly relaxed and let him guide you to the bathroom, where he began to point out the makeup wipes, the towels, ignoring the fact that you had figured out the layout on your own some time ago and probably had some rough recollection.

“What a gentleman,” you uttered while roughly smudging your makeup with remover, not caring for the audience of one who was leaning against the doorframe to the bathroom, watching you to make sure that you did not hurt yourself nor ruin anything too badly.

“It’s the bare minimum.”

“I suppose… I… uh… shower? Yeah?”

“Oh yeah… wait I’ll bring you some clothes or something. Do you mind what?”

“Whatever you are okay with giving me, darling.”

Hissing to himself, Mingi adjusted his glasses and clutched the jacket you returned in his right hand. He ambled to his bedroom in search of something that would inevitably end up smelling like you and serve as another reminder of just how easily he could give himself up for this kind of closeness. If he were to let his eyelids fall like a protective blanket, he could pretend for a split second that this was how it had always been - domestic, sweet, uncomplicated. Head turned away, Mingi returned, only to see your clothes not so neatly strewn about on the heated tiles. His eyes moved on their own accord, to settle on your silhouette, moving slowly behind the shower curtain. Despising the fact that he knew your body and craved it like water or air, he left the t-shirt and sweatpants that he had picked out lying in a folded pile by the sink.

Mingi was restless, storming from bedroom to living room and back again, his instinctive decision-making finally catching up to him and crashing down on his consciousness with full force. He had acted rashly, listening only to his heart, and in every point along the turbulent path back home when he could have let go of what was inevitably going to be more pain for you and for him, he selfishly refused to. While moving a pillow and throw to the sofa, he was in awe of his own dedication, and how, for you, he could thoughtlessly abandon everything that his studies had attempted to instil in him over the years, from university to clinical practice.

With a tired hand he took off his glasses, giving the lenses a half-hearted wipe with the edge of his tee, more out of habit than out of need. According to the lazy clock on his wall, it was nearing two o’clock in the morning. He shuddered, and heat rushed to his face. What was he doing two weeks ago at this time? It was best to ignore that and start anew. You were just a friend who by some twist of fate he ended up getting to know a little too intimately. But if exes could become friends, surely you two could work out, even if in your drunk state you were exposing feelings that were potentially resonant with his - obviously far from platonic. Mingi shook his head, ultimately failing to banish his optimism. He needed coffee, anything to get his mind off things, maybe his work emails.

In the middle of his preparations, also known as remaining idle while the coffee machine worked its magic, you reappeared from the bathroom, freshened up, cheeks pink, and dressed in his clothes, which, he hated to say, looked too good on you. The t-shirt he had picked out, originally oversized even for him, perfectly draped over your curves; hinted at everything, revealed nothing. A couple of dark spots where water from your hair had dripped onto the soft cotton made the scene all the more homely, comfortable, and the only thing holding him back from sweeping you into an impossibly tight hug was the grey that befell your unlabelled relationship with him. Mingi was a man of logic, preferring to set things up onto metaphorical shelves, and in his work he was known to be a brilliant theorist, consulted on matters of analysis and diagnostics. The idea of a situationship, no strings attached and any other synonyms irked him, and the more he looked at you, and how you gazed at him so serenely, the more he wanted to put his foot down and ask you to decide. But if you had set your mind on tomorrow - or as the clocks were saying later today, he had to do what he did best - wait. It had been two weeks. What would a few more hours do except give you time to sober up and figure out what it was that you wanted from him and yourself?

“All better?” Who was he asking? Thankfully, you interpreted it as a question directed at you. 

“Much better… sorry I am so out of it. Probably saying shit.”

“Don’t worry. I am just glad you are safe.”

“Mingi,” his name on your lips, the sweetest poison for his heart, “...thank you darling, really. I… hm, just thinking about what could have happened…”

“No need to think. About that, I mean.”

“And what should I think about?” raising an eyebrow, you captured the accidental slip of his musings in your delicate hands, subjecting it to scrutiny.

“Sleep.”

“You said that before. Besides, coffee? Really?”

“For me. I sleep better with coffee.”

Sure.”

“You can uh… I moved my stuff so you can sleep in the bedroom.”

“What about-”

“I’ll be right here.”

“I mean… we… didn’t we…” you wanted to allude to the bed having been shared before.

“I am here. You are there. Cool?” With the last of the americano having dripped into his cup, Mingi raised the hot beverage to take a careful sip, wincing as the liquid nearly burned his mouth. At least it served as a good distraction, just as he wanted.

“Mm… sorry. ‘Night.”

Spinning on your heels, you made a beeline for the bedroom, not waiting for Mingi’s response. Rejection after rejection; you smiled to yourself as you regarded the white sheets, decorated with a silvery sheen from the lights outside, washed over by a warm glow of the reading lamp positioned on the bedside table farthest from you. Welcoming, kind. Like the man who was now drinking coffee at hell o’clock in the morning, all because of you. The man who gave you his own clothes without a second thought. The man who kept on giving to a person who kept on taking. As you collapsed onto the sheets, crawling underneath the covers with an unprecedented exhaustion, you fell into a dreamless slumber with the thoughts of yourself being like a certain character from a famous animated film that you had watched with your friends, only to rewatch it on your own that same night once you got home. A spirit with no face, only an insatiable appetite, a rage that could not be extinguished - always more, taking from everyone, taking everything. Cloaked in black, a creature of darkness, without a place in society and meant sink into its own misery. You were alone in this world, wishing for the skies to clear, praying you would find the strength to fight for it.

He could not sleep. With the coffee finished but not the slightest hint of drowsiness approaching, Mingi stretched to grab the laptop that had been lying on the coffee table, choosing to go over his work emails that had accumulated from the time he had logged off just a night ago. Chain mail, Friday newsletters, reminders, rescheduling, appointment bookings, cancellations, conferences, journal updates, editor reviews… so much noise that settled like ash on his eyes, amounting to what appeared to be nothing. Segments of an imaginary success that drained him of any desire to show up on Monday. After answering what he could, Mingi pinched the bridge of his nose, and lied down on the couch, balancing the laptop on his stomach. He had foregone the throw, finding it to be more of a hindrance to his constant movement. What was it that he had told quite a few of his patients? Sleep was essential for a sound mind? Comical. Perhaps it was time to consult someone for his own troubles. He was good enough at solving things for others, but unfortunately that did not seem to apply when the ‘others’ was himself. If only he could stop concentrating on your presence in the room right next to him, on whether you were sleeping soundly and if you needed anything.

It was a quiet rustling that had woken Mingi up from a quick nap that he had fallen into. After a moment of disorientation, he registered the sound as being your footsteps, inching around the sofa in the approximate direction of the kitchen.

“Escaping?” recoiling as though you had been struck, you halted. After having been buried under a cosy duvet, the apartment felt cold, and you could barely hold back the shiver that was threatening to run over you. 

“Water… sorry did I wake you up?”

“Nah, wasn’t sleeping anyways. Here let me get it for you.”

Without another word uttered, nor any glances which could plant seeds of doubt in your head about his intentions, Mingi was right there with you, leading you to your target and pouring a glass. You did not mind how he watched you handle the item, nor how he took it out of your grasp as soon as you were done. He was gentle, even though each move did appear to be pre-calculated and strictly bound by a larger, all-encompassing decision. You tried to reach out for him, and when he stepped away after noticing you in the peripherals, the point was proven. Mingi was seeking distance. Biting your lower lip, the echoes of an earlier anxiety bubbled, manifesting itself in your classic black and white thinking.

“I am a mess,” like a coin dropped in a well, the phrase bounced from every wall, right back to you.

“Break that down for me,” crossing his arms, Mingi turned around and leaned against the counter.

“Are you going therapy mode on me?” you tried to joke, but the words came across more as an accusation. You felt weak, exposed. The shiver escaped, goosebumps now decorating your flesh, causing what you interpreted as pity to flash in Mingi’s eyes.

“I’m assuming that is what you’re seeking now, no?”

“...no.”

“Okay.”

As if the conversation had never begun, Mingi returned to drying his hands, leaving you alone with an unpleasant sobriety. With the early morning returned fragments of memories - a highlight reel of things you probably should not have said, but now that you had to own up to and either confirm or keep running away from. Inhale, exhale, and the words poured by themselves.

“Can we… talk about something?”

“Something?”

“I think… I… you know how I… wait I did say I was planning to call you right?”

“Mhm,” Mingi turned back, regarding you with an unreadable expression.

“So I have said a lot of things,”

“Yeah, and, what do you want to say to me?”

“I’m… sorry.”

“You already said it.”

“I mean it.”

“I know. What else?”

“Help me.”

“With… what?”

“I am afraid.”

“Of?”

“How I feel.”

“And how is that?”

“Well…”

You paused, throat drying. Your body recoiled from what you had settled on admitting. But it had to happen, even if the result would be you never seeing Mingi again, because at least you would have done something to try and defeat yourself. After hearing the three little words, and having them repeat over and over again, the light in which you saw your own life and saw Mingi had shifted. He could not be that same happy, naive, angel-like friend from university who had somehow ended up in your company of misfits and comrades in melancholy to you anymore. For the first time, you wanted to place a significance on a relationship that was beyond one night in a stranger’s bed. 

“I am afraid… that I- I-”

“What you are about to say, did you weigh it up? Did you consider it? Evaluate it? Are you sure that what you are about to share, and will be unable to reverse, is done with a clear mind?”

“Yes.”

“And you want to say it to me.”

“Yes, Mingi.”

You reached for his hands, worry making you play with his slightly cold fingertips. Intertwined, swinging side to side the tiniest bit, like a swaying of a sleepy willow; either the beginning, or the end. Mingi took a deep breath, as though preparing himself to be brutally smited.

“Then, um, as you were saying?”

“I want to fall in love with you.”

A laugh involuntarily flew from his chest, like a slap across your face. When you tried to slide past him, however, his arm wrapped around your upper body, pulling you close.

“Want to? What does that mean?” With prior seriousness being replaced by a more playful tone, the calm evaded you, “hey, take your time, it’s fine. You are already doing really, really well.”

“May I hug you?”

“Sure, c’mere,” he was the sun in late summer, the rays lulling, soothing. A glistening gold palette illuminated by a well-paired cologne that you were already wearing after resting in his bed, a masterpiece that you wanted to sink into and never escape. The horrors of the night that never stopped repeating were crawling away into their putrid caverns, providing at least a temporary relief and returning you to the waking, beautiful world. Mingi was comfortable in the best sense of the description, a stability that you had never dared to dream of. You pressed your head against him, shutting yourself away from cacophonous intrusions that had been leading you every Friday.

“You said you loved me.”

“Don’t remember,” the vibrations across his torso as he spoke soothed some of the pain inflicted by his answer. You could not blame him. Perhaps you two were much more similar than you had initially thought.

“I like you.”

“I like you too.”

“A lot.”

“A lot.”

“Can you help me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Some things you should face yourself, I can only point you in the right direction. I can see that this goes beyond anything that either of us could mention or explore right now, and I hate to say it but there is no magic cure or something. It takes time and effort,” Mingi wrapped his arms tighter, one hand starting to pat the back of your head absent-mindedly, focusing on the sensation of each strand against his palm, “but what I can do is be here. For you. And if you want to, for us. How does that sound?”

“Like it’s too good to be true. I don’t deserve you.”

“No one deserves anyone. We just fit together, and we will make things work. Step by step,” Mingi made it sound easy. You wanted to believe him.

“We?”

“You just said you want to fall in love with me, Y/N. We kind of… need to be together for that to happen, methinks.” 

“Good point.” you mumbled, snuggling closer, hiding your face.

“May I be honest for a second?”

“Mhm.”

“I am not saying it so that we say it together when you’re ready, cool?”

“Say what?”

“You know, the L word,” you looked up to see him wiggling his eyebrows dramatically, making you chuckle.

“Oh… thank you, Mingi. I appreciate it. Yeah. Makes sense.”

In the tranquillity of the early dawn, you were not alone. Not curled up on the floor, a stranger to yourself, but in the arms of someone who cared and his feelings remained unchanged through times you thought anyone could, and would abandon you. You could finally hear your own thoughts becoming clear and level. Nothing could be better than the hope for such a bright tomorrow.

“Hmm… I think I liked when you were calling me darling in every sentence,” with a flick of your wrist you lightly hit Mingi’s broad chest, without pulling away. 

“I did not-”

“Are you not sober, darling?” he made you pause your denials, a sunny smile on his face.

“Okay fine yes I did…”

“Care to say it again?” taken by surprise by the request, you were left open-mouthed, with a raised brow.

“Darling?”

“Music to my ears,” he answered while barely being able to stifle a yawn.

This was the closest Mingi could get to a fairy tale moment with you, and he could not be happier. A grin fought its way to the surface, until it practically hurt his cheeks, and he pressed you to his chest, just so that you would not see it. But it did not take someone to be especially hyper-observant to sense his glee, capable of melting the snow in the harshest winter. Perhaps it was foolish of him to admit this, but nothing felt more right. How your body melded into his, perfectly unified. How your heart beat at a gentle pace, in time with his, and how your steady breathing tickled his skin - a constant reminder of your electrifying proximity.

“Sleepy?”

“Mmm… a bit.”

“Maybe a change of…” you glanced at the couch, “location would do you some good?” detangling yourself, the suggestion was made with a simple turn of the head, which Mingi agreed to with a curt nod, and a removal of his glasses.

Though it was his apartment and technically you were the guest, he was the one following you, like always. Shying away from your gaze as he rapidly changed into sweatpants and a tee that were other than those he had worn during his midnight expedition to retrieve you from the club, making you giggle and cover your eyes with a dramatic swoop of the hand, he was back at your mercy in these four walls. Playing with fire, he lied down on the bed next to you, counting to steady himself. Glasses left on the bedside table, he stared at the soft blur of the ceiling, admiring how soft the light of the earliest dawn looked without the myriad of details that otherwise occupied the material it fell upon. Mingi debated with himself whether what he was allowing was appropriate, and whether it would inevitably lead to what he had been secretly hoping for. He could not lie, not to himself at least - he still wanted you, and now, with the avenue towards the prospects of a relationship having been opened, the wishes were becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore. Not when you were right there beside him, obviously studying the contours of his face, tracing the gorgeous lines that its silhouette formed and thanking the heavens for having the ability to take in and memorise Mingi. 

Oddly enough, in the semi-darkness of the bedroom - a place that was supposed to be the most intimate and exposing, you felt confidence return to you like the gust of a reviving spring wind. With every inhale and exhale, the familiar strength regained its capability, and led you to place a hand on Mingi’s chest, and while still keeping up a coy act, to run a lone finger down its middle, stopping right at the abdomen. Muscles tensing under your touch, Mingi sighed. Clearly, sleeping was not on your agenda whether you wanted it or not. Your habits, perfected over years, were advising you to act, and do so now. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately for him, he shared the same desire.

“What’s up?” he mumbled, head rolling to the side to find you already looking right at him.

“You’re far.”

“We are literally on the same bed.”

“No, but you are far. You get me?” a tentative leg over his, hooking around and serving as a lever to pull you closer to him. It was too natural, how Mingi’s arm stretched out and let you cuddle into him, acting as a pillow.

“I suppose. What do you want to do about it?”

“This,” tracing along his jawline, you prompted him to turn. You were close, way too close for him to not hold his breath as you came into focus - the one person he could always see, even when you were not physically with him. 

Mingi resisted. As much as he was seeking the same contact, the tinge of regret for giving his heart up so easily was prominent, a scalding hot iron. It was too much - lying under the blanket of agitated stillness, pressure coiling at an astonishing speed as your eyes turned into the one universe he could care to exist in. Without realising it, he had turned towards you for a better angle, placing himself on your altar. Fingers ghosted over the sensitive skin under his ear, gently running through his blonde locks. Every brush of your hand against him was an unbearable fire, melting him into submission; nothing more than a servant in the sultry fog. It was impossible to answer how you were able to do this, and why Mingi was allowing you to, but just like everything else, it felt right, regardless of how dark the future could be. In what you had proclaimed to be a ‘mess’, he felt alive, human. For some, addiction was measured in degrees and in there being less and less memories as time went by - for him, it was in the syllables of your name, in the taste of your lips when he could not hold back any longer and closed the gap between you, sighing as the he could finally relive the sensation that had been haunting him every minute, be he asleep or awake.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, a bouquet of recollection and reminiscence as if you had been two souls torn apart for centuries. Mingi’s nose lightly brushed against your skin as he tilted his head to deepen the intimacy, his hands moving to hold you closer. The last time, each sense was charged with an undercurrent of carnal desire, and lust had revealed a palette of dark hues, while now, even with the rising intensity and Mingi’s hold drifting to find purchase on your hips, the scene was light. Instead of sacrificing yourselves to the night, you were defeating it, greeting your own dawn. It was an awe-inspiring hallucination, leaving you dazed and desiring more. Hooking your leg more tightly over Mingi’s thigh, you shuddered, the breathiest moan escaping you as an unexpected friction revealed your unwinding state, consumed by the man from whom you were done running. Breaking away to press your forehead against his and indulge in the shared oxygen, a hint of dizziness made you chuckle. Peppering a couple of kisses on his cheek, only to return to the same position, eyelashes almost touching, the lack of space proving to be the ultimate comfort, you whispered:

“I want this forever,” meaning every word, at least when ‘forever’ meant ‘for now’. You did not know yourself, or the new self you wanted to craft, so you could not make any promises just yet. But this was good enough. It was honest and raw.

“Take me on a date first,” Mingi teased with a wink. Caressing his cheek, you kissed the tip of his nose, making him scrunch it. 

“What a precious princess,” you chuckled, leaning over to close the space once again, ignited by the beautiful sounds that were muted by you, a most delectable fruit.

Desire on the tongue, truth on the teeth, love staining the lips a deeper pink as you fell into Mingi, giving into his tug at your waist to hover above him. This, however, did not last long as he grew more impatient, pressing you against his body, wriggling upwards until he was half-seated on the bed, and you, on his thigh. Your initial instincts were telling you to move, but as he adjusted his seating once more, muscle brushing against your growing excitement, you quickly decided against it, instead settling on his leg, grinding into it to check for Mingi’s reaction. Judging by the way his hand snaked to the nape of your neck, fingers lost in your tresses as he could not get enough of you, this was a welcome change. He was responsive, in tune with you, allowing you to take the lead. Momentarily standing up on your knees, you backed up to take off the sweatpants you had been wearing, feeling the heat in your core rising to embrace you in a seductive haze.

With glazed over, darkened orbs Mingi watched you, each breath an adrenaline-filled shudder. Freed from the cotton confines, with only the fine material of your panties left to contain the building arousal, you cupped Mingi’s face to give him a deep kiss until you lost all air, whispering instructions only once you had your fill. Promptly, he was in the same state of undress, more so when you cautiously hooked the base of his t-shirt, longing to see the body that was so perfect with yours. When you wanted to mirror the action, his expression changed to that of a miniscule panic, almost instantly replaced by an endearing shyness and a bitten lower lip.

“Can you… keep the shirt on?”

“You like to see me in your clothes, Mingi?” You were comfortable saying his name in other settings, sure, but in the semi-darkness of his bedroom, it occurred to you just how vulnerable the act was, capturing another’s attention with the simple collection of characters, echoing from wall to wall and resonating in the listener’s ears. But if you were to be an improved version of yourself, someone who had real control as opposed to the farce you had been parading around with, you needed to at least make a little bit of an effort to be aware of Mingi, find him in your pleasure and make him your focus. You were too used to taking centre stage and pushing others away for it. 

“More than I’d like to admit,” voice husky, he groaned as your lips found his neck, retracing, not needing pointers to find the places that drove your newly established lover wild, “Ah… if you are o-okay with it-”

His hands, now back on your hips, gave you a timid squeeze, reaffirming the rapture which your present outfit threw him into. Mingi had assumed that you were at your most beautiful when those dresses designed to seduce adorned your curves, highlighting and accentuating what he swore was divinity, but nothing could have prepared him for this sight, and the effect that it had on him. Whether it was on purpose or not, but his name being uttered so teasingly as you seeked an outlet for your sensual frustration, while you were in his shirt, in his room, having slept in his bed, it all sent him into a frenzy. He wanted to mark you, make you his, hear you say everything you never could to him while he would bring you heaven and make you see stars. 

“More than okay, darling, I love it,” nibbling at the soft skin, you smirked as Mingi emitted a groan, hands squeezing your ass. This prompted you to continue, and you sat back down, desperate for stimulation that your covered clit against his thigh could offer. 

“Is this how you want me, doll?” the pet name sent a jolt through you and you let out a shaky breath, leaving yourself to be supported by an equally taken Mingi, whose growing bulge was now poking against your knee.

“Doll?”

“Only fair I call you something pretty, hm? Unless you want to…” he trailed off, recalling the roles that you had taken previously.

“I want to take it slow with you right now,” you kissed him, lazily moving your hips, the material getting more soaked with each glide, “will you let me?” when he did not immediately give an answer, you palmed at the prominent hardness, asking again just as Mingi let out an airy moan, chasing the contact, “will you let me take care of you?”

“Fu-ck, yes…”

“So good for me- ah!” with a yelp, you shuddered when Mingi’s hand dragged your panties to the side to get a better view of the slick, not caring for the glistening fluid staining his leg. With a few tentative rolls of his thumb over your clit, he decided that he should help you reach your high first, attracted to how you lost yourself in his touch.

“Want to use my thigh to get yourself off that badly?”

“N-no I am going to take c- fuck,” head lolling back, you could only focus on the accelerating fingers over your sensitive nub, teasing its very tip and coated in your precum, stopping spontaneously. You whined, earning yourself a furrowing of the brows and a glint of surprise in Mingi’s gaze.

“Thought you said no?”

It clicked in your head, and the tinge of anger rapidly dispelled, instead being replaced by a warm endearment. You ran a hand through his beautiful hair, planting a kiss on his cheek before answering:

“I don’t want to make you work too hard today.”

“I like to see you like this though…” he mumbled, chasing after another taste of your plush lips.

“How? Unwinding because of your hand? Your thigh? Do you like to make me feel good?” with a few nods, you let him continue by tapping his upper arm. As soon as he resumed the action, in time with your rocking, you let yourself go fully, thinking only of the man who was below you. Nothing, nor anyone else came to mind.

Mingi was observing you carefully, your moans turning to sweet music, "Yes, Mingi, just like that-" 

"You look so beautiful, doll, fucking yourself on me. Could you be," he paused his ministrations - a light tremble of muscle a telltale sign of your approaching climax, "...any more perfect?"

Praise shot into your heart and your core, an overwhelming electric shock. You perceived yourself guilty and undeserving of this worship, and yet could not bear to hear anything else from Mingi's lips - you were sure that it would be your demise. Arms thrown over his shoulders, you attempted to speed up your movements, the action proving a challenge due to the accumulating tension. Your head fell forwards, forehead against Mingi’s collarbone as he took to guiding you, hand carefully positioned on the small of your back while the other rolled up and down your aching clit, each touch closer and closer to sending you over the edge.

“Dar-ling I-”

“Are you close, Y/N?” Why did your name have to sound so sweet when he said it?

“Ah- y-yeah…” Mingi was craving for relief to the point of dizziness, grasping at you for the most minimal support. Precum coated the inner side of his underwear, member at full mast as he toyed with your sopping pussy.

“Come over me, doll, please, beautiful, show me what I can do to you,” the request was a fire, deliciously weak and exposing. You looked up at Mingi, disarmed by the kindness of his expression, and peppered a couple of kisses around his lips, too disoriented to find the original target.

With one final rock of the hips, and Mingi’s fingers curling into you and gliding between your folds, you collapsed into unfathomable bliss, a lewd moan resonating from you while the orgasm left you shaking in Mingi’s strong arms. He let you ride out your high by keeping your hips from fully bucking, instead setting a steadily decreasing pace and soothing you through the overstimulation from your continued contact with his leg. He nuzzled against your cheek, following the action with a reassuring:

“I got you,” pulled you into embracing the angel of your life.

The hints of a rising sun began to trickle into the room, just barely leaving a pattern on the carpet and transforming the light in the room into a pale lavender and pink. This was the earliest, and the latest, that you had ever been with anyone after your ritualistic ‘night out’, and courteously reminded you of the occurrences that brought you back to Mingi. Upon your descent from the decadent oblivion, embarrassment struck and you pressed yourself against his body, sighing in relief when he hugged you tight. His hardness was impossible to ignore, and a part of you felt terrible for not repaying the pleasure he had given you just yet, but judging by the way in which you could feel his fingers trace abstract shapes on your back, and after one glance to one side, and then to the other, how he kept himself immersed in his senses, concentrating on you, he could hold out for a little longer. 

“Mingi?”

“Mm?”

“You did make me feel good. Really, really good,” uncharacteristically meek, the sentence sounded almost like an announcement, making him chuckle, but the smile that melted across his features was genuine and pure. Loving.

“Happy to hear it. And I am happy that you are feeling like this, Y/N.”

“May I…?” a ghostly caress of his erection, a shaky breath, a playful, lop-sided grin with glossed over eyes.

“And here I was thinking that you like bossing people around, hm?”

“Would you rather I did?” touch turned grasp, a finger playing with the waistband of his boxers while your voice dropped into a dangerous tone, serpent-like, sultry.

“I like new things, I want to get to know you better, gorgeous.”

“Let’s do just that then, though… I’ll need a little,” having regained full function of your legs, you slipped from the position over his thigh to be on your knees between his legs, centred, “assistance. Talk to me, darling, what do you like?”

“I-” with a swift motion, you snaked your hand into his boxers, taking out his erect member and giving it a tentative stroke.

There were no thoughts which he could vocalise aside from hoping that you would never stop. Your thumb circled over his reddened tip, coating itself in the fluid. You barely moved your hand, continuing to give special attention only to the head of his stiffened cock, making Mingi try to wriggle to get more friction. With a push on his pubic bone, you freeze him.

“Now, don’t get too impatient, first I need these boxers off, okay? I’ll help,” you let go of his member, tugging at the material and following Mingi’s quick lift of his lower half, pulled them down and off, leaving the stunning man bare and ready to respond to your every move and command. 

You truly wanted to fall in love with him. Those glistening eyes that rolled back slightly just before he closed them, unfathomable bliss revealed only to you, were a paradise that you would not mind floating in forever. He had full trust in you, breathy moans freely falling from his lips as you started to stroke his cock, having added some of your own spit to his pre-cum for lubrication. His every detail was a heavenly design that you could not believe nature had crafted, from body to mind, and here he was, giving it up to you. You regarded the telltale sheen of sweat that began to form on his smooth skin, giving him an angelic appearance in the haze of the early morning. His hands were gripping the bed sheets, knuckles gradually turning paler as you sped up with each pump of his leaking cock. In a moment where you noticed him looking upwards at the ceiling, not registering you, you stopped to give the base a soft squeeze, having an even better idea in mind.

“Mingi?” The call instantly made him dart back to you unfocused but endearingly determined.

“How would you feel about me sucking your dick, hm?”

“H-huh?”

“Only if you want to, darling,” resuming the strokes, albeit at a lazier, dangerously slow speed and making sure to give attention to every vein, you had to practically had to hold yourself back from grinning due to the perplexion decorating Mingi’s face, blended seamlessly with a blazing lust. 

“Are you sure?”

“I can show you, and you decide, deal?”

“Fu-uck yes, deal ye-” answer forgotten in the garbled, divine mess of carnal satisfaction, Mingi watched as you lowered yourself to hover above his member, and gave it a few kitten licks before taking in his tip.

You rolled your tongue over the heat, relishing in Mingi’s taste, and pushed down further until you were midway, and hollowed out your cheeks in time to sense how he twitched at the dizzying warmth. While you were more familiar with a dominant role, particularly one where you prioritised your own pleasure and used others as a form of self-relief - not exactly the most responsible approach but no one had complained yet, but even then you were no stranger to this sensual act. You dragged your tongue against his large erection, spurred on by his groan when you bobbed your head a couple of times before slipping off to give Mingi an inquisitive glance.

“So, what do you say?”

“You are… amazing,”

“I take that as a, ‘yes please, Y/N, continue’?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then say it, darling, so I know,” you grazed a lone finger up his length, admiring just how sensitive it was, “and you can touch me, by the way, you were doing so well before what’s got you so shy now?” you chuckled when a hand that had previously been hovering in your vicinity finally found its place on the side of your face, timidly moving a few strands of hair that you had not noticed threatening to cover your vision. 

“Yes… please, Y/N, continue.”

“So precious.”

It did not take long for you to build him back up and higher again. You were addicted to how he writhed under you but was still careful to not grab onto your locks, instead choosing to repeatedly run his digits through and rest them while you masterfully took him in your mouth. A wanton symphony filled the room, blending every sigh and the sloppy collision of his tip against the back of your throat into a direct stimulation. Your core was growing needy, so much so that with one finger you began to roll over your sensitive clit, echoes of the explosive orgasm still shooting through your nerves but not nearly enough to satiate your evolved hunger.

“I’m going to-”

He pawed at you, while an oncoming wave was about to capture him whole. Mingi’s breathing was ragged and irregular and his head fell back while he struggled to distinguish reality from dreaming in the wake of his crumbling state. Just like he had done in your last encounter, the second before he came stirred in him a final aggression, a desire to prove to himself that he retained some form of power, even though all the signs pointed to the opposite. At least now, you were fully prepared. Throat relaxed and eyes fluttering shut, you let yourself be pushed down onto the throbbing cock with a rough hand, and welcomed the ropes of hot, white cum when they spurted out to coat your mouth, rivulets dripping down your throat and prompting you to swallow. The light tang was suddenly your favourite flavour, and you resumed your pumping, milking Mingi of all his nectar with a greedy forcefulness. He tasted like he was completely yours.

He hit the headboard as he collapsed from the exertion, astonished at how you licked your lips, showing off the emptiness of your mouth as you had swallowed his load. Your cunt ached for more, and you drifted towards Mingi until your chest was pressed against his, ensuring he recalled the fact that you were still wearing his shirt. Not caring for the remnants of his cum on the corners of your mouth, he searched for your lips, sealing them with a long kiss. You used this as an opportunity to lower yourself just enough to have your folds glide over his only just softening member, and deepened the kiss to drown out his gasp. You needed him, and needed him now. Not caring for recovery times, you began to fist his dick roughly, making him tremble underneath you and bite down on his lip.

“Come on, precious, won’t you give me another?”

“A-ah I- please I-”

“What was that?” you separated yourself from him, a smirk dancing on your lips when you sensed a familiar rush racing under skin from the stimulation, and leaned to the side to open the bedside drawer, successfully fishing out a condom. 

“I-”

“Speak up, sweetheart, I am not sure what you’re saying,” it was so easy to tease him, play with his mind, and you liked it too much. Reduced to babble, he shut himself off from further attempts to communicate, submitting to your determination to work him until he was hard again.

When you ceased to pump him and let go, his cock slapped against his skin, leaving behind traces of prior climax and clear promise of another. You removed the condom from the packaging and carefully unrolled it, suddenly struck by how practised this felt with Mingi, as if you knew each other’s bodies better than your own. You would be lying if you were to say you did not have him memorised.

Positioning his tip at your entrance, you sighed and slid him between your folds. One rock of the hips, another, and the condom was coated in your slick, and you began to take the member in, inch by inch into your fluttering heat, mouth ajar as you felt him grazing against your begging walls, the ribbed detail of the protection only adding to the sensation. Soon enough, he was fully sheathed inside your fluttering hole, and was struggling to hold himself back from bucking his hips upwards. One leg on either side of him, you were straddling his lap, the position reminiscent of a longing embrace, intimate, personal. The centre of your attention were the contortions of his face and the arms that loosely wrapped around your torso.

If it was possible to be any closer, then most certainly Mingi achieved it when he pulled you into him, holding you tight. The movement dragged your pussy over his cock, almost making it slip out until he settled you back down again, hissing when skin slapped against skin. Not surprised by, but still not expecting the enticing demonstration of strength, you nudged Mingi’s cheek with your own, whispering words of praise in his ear:

“Do you want to guide me?”

“Sorry Y/N, I couldn’t help it… your pussy feels so good…”

“I said I want to take care of you, Mingi, tell me what you want.”

“I… I do want to guide you, if you let me.”

“Show me what you can do, darling.”

You did not need to say it twice as he grabbed your hips to adjust your seating, and took to finding a steady and breath-taking rhythm, with the two of you moving as one. Mingi left one peck, another on your shoulder when you yelped from a particularly deep pound of his cock into you, grazing your g-spot and knocking you off kilter. 

“Yes, yes, Mingi-”

“So pretty, for me?” he cut you off while he quickened his pace, starting to move up with more vigour when you found balance by gripping onto the headboard.

“For-” you stopped, reassessing the sentence. Even in the comfort of his show of power, you were hesitant to give up. Nothing forced you to continue however, as Mingi angled his thrusts to hit your sweet spot repeatedly, making your legs tremble and pussy clench around him. The heat was becoming unbearable, and the knot in your stomach was driving you mad, “Fuck, Mingi, faster!”

Your words were followed by a few violent thrusts, before Mingi tapped your thigh and growled for you to shift your leg so that you could turn and lie down on your side. You read his wishes, cautiously shifting until your back was flush against his chest. Remaining close so that his length remained in your sopping cunt, you shifted to sink into the crumpled sheets, fixated on Mingi, who was entirely in his own world, concentrated on performance and pleasure. He lifted your other leg by hooking it with his arm and, once settled, began to thrust with a totally new vigour. 

His grunts mixed with your high-pitched whines, and his pistoning caused your fluids to spill relentlessly around his cock, soaking the sheets. Mingi was in overdrive; he wanted more, needed more and despite already having already come one for you, he was ready to do it again. The pain of having his cock abused and overstimulated had subsided, instead transforming into a delightful sensitivity to the warmth of your walls, and how they started to pulsate. You unleashed a broken moan as your high accumulated and destroyed you, giving you up to Mingi entirely. Sensing the shift, he persisted, letting out his own guttural groan when the pounding into your hole had turned into pure ecstasy and brought him to his own orgasm. Cock twitching as it spilled out more of his release into the condom, the heat leaving you dizzy, you followed his change of position back into sitting, jaw slackened, vision unfocused.

Mingi kept you against him, encouraged you to say his name again while you warmed him, to which you instantly obliged - it felt too natural, meant to be. He scissored your folds with his fingers, after which he moved up to tease your pulsing and erect clit, middle finger moving over it at an astonishingly fast pace. You practically clawed at Mingi, sure that you were about to break, gasps stuck in your throat but he would not budge, holding you down until a tidal wave crashed into you, and you mewled through another climax, this time a clear liquid spilling from you and further ruining the cotton below. A wreck, you leaned back on him, unable to keep yourself up any longer from the shaking of your legs to the blankness of your mind. 

He kissed you back to full consciousness, having tilted your head so he could capture your lips again and again, each contact more gentle than the one prior. After pulling out his cock and discarding the condom, his full attention was on you. Mingi caressed your face, snaked his hands under the t-shirt to feel your skin, lowered you onto the bed and slid another pillow so that you remained in a more or less upright position.

“You okay?” he tried, worry showing itself on his features when you did not respond instantly.

“I love,” he stilled, eyes widening, “...this. I love this, Mingi,” nevertheless, he beamed, lips interlocking for what had to be the thousandth time. Not sure how to respond, he simply lied down next to you, watching as your inhales and exhales grew more level, deeper, and awareness of surroundings returned.

“We… we really should clean up, yeah?”

“Definitely changing the bedsheets later,” Mingi pointed at what was running the risk of being a stain of your release. Blush rose on your cheeks as you turned away, mumbling:

“Good point.”

“Hey, hey, it was worth it. You looked beautiful,” he tried to move you back, but you only crossed your arms, joking.

“You were literally behind me, Mingi.”

“Beautiful from all angles, doll,” you sharply turned, giving him a glare before suppressing the widest grin.

“So cheesy,”

“Do you like it?”

“Unfortunately, a little too much.” you flicked his nose with your own, the safety and adoration oozing from Mingi lulling you. The room glowed a stunning shade of pink, with hints of orange as you swam in his stunning dark irises.

“Well I have a lot more where that came from.”

“Can’t wait to hear it. Now, uh… shower?”

It was Saturday. And most definitely, it was not the dead of night. Late morning light washed over your skin as you sat upright on Mingi’s bed, the same one you had run from not too long ago. Only this time, the arm lazily thrown over your stomach was impossible to move, and the gaze of the man with his head perched on his other hand was impossible to ignore. It was evident that he was waiting for your next move, purposefully silent. Aware. Even though you had made your own version of a confession, you knew that you had a long way to go if you wanted Mingi to wholeheartedly trust you, and thus you would be able to hold and protect his love in your own slowly healing heart. 

For the first time, you were looking beyond the character you had created for yourself, feeling for the essence of who you had once been far too long ago, thawing the self-protective frost you had accumulated as your last resort.  Attempting to stay still, you focused on how your breathing repeatedly lifted and lowered his arm that was still on your body. Too heavy, too intimate, too real for you to handle. According to the logic that you were trying to shed for a full reawakening, you had gotten what you wanted, right? Then why was it that you could not stand up and leave, having used him again, mercilessly and coldly? Why were you stuck? Resistance was futile. Questions turning into a barrage of artillery against your clouded mind were agonising, and amidst the colossal pause a shudder passed over your body. Mingi’s t-shirt that he had let you borrow, hanging loosely over you was suddenly not enough. Feeling bare, you grasped at the bedsheets, anything, the cold settling on your skin like fresh snow, coating you and leaving you gasping. A trembling of the lips, a breath suspended in the lungs, blooming into an ache until tears welled up in your eyes, glistening raindrops. Patterns felt like strangers as you thought of the many days that you had tried to not live through, instead succumbing to impulse and carnality, and the foreign bliss of being in the now was so acute it sent shocks through your system. A white light, a white lily, a white dove cradled in your hands. You felt Mingi’s hand pressing into your side as he moved a little closer. You could hear him, his breath, his heartbeat, feel the heat emanating from his body, and every touch imprinted on your skin once again. Celestial blessings that soothed you like no one ever could. Biting on your lower lip, you lowered your head to fight the last of yourself. Shedding your beliefs and desires, you were left bare, and you were terrified. A white chasm into which you kept on falling, and the only thing you could hear was Mingi’s voice as he sat up to pull you into an embrace, his strong arms lifting you from your position and into his lap. Heart to heart, you melted into the feeling, inhaling him, his affection that was seeking you out in the panic. A hand lulling you, slowly patting your back as your body shook with every suppressed sob. As he mumbled your name against your ear, calling out for you, the previously contained tears sprung out, travelling down your cheeks, but Mingi could not care less, only hugging you tighter until even in your loss, you could feel that he was there, and he was not planning to leave.

Once you calmed down, he continued to hold you, mumbling abstract thoughts that occurred to him, unrelated to anything that had you rolling up the walls like a penny. You knew it was on purpose - a delightful distraction crafted by psychological mastery, getting you to nod along to his plans for ‘the latest breakfast of all time’, listening to his mention of some park or square nearby, switching you off from the ghosts of a turbulent circuit that you were too used to existing in. You did not mind the chatter, the vibrations emanating across and from his chest as he spoke having turned into the most soothing sensation. 

“...a date.”

“Huh?” only having registered the last part of the sentence, you jolted out of your empty musings.

“Since we are now dating, we will go on a date.”

“Makes sense.. But… how?” he chuckled breathlessly, detangling himself a little, just to look at you.

“How? Are you asking how people go on dates?”

“I guess…”

“Well then I’ll have to show you.”

As you lost yourself in another kiss, a thought, or more accurately, a small yet persistent wish buried itself in your mind. With all your being, you hoped that on this date, in every step towards new tomorrows, it would be only you and Mingi, and the metaphorical doors would remain shut, isolating and erasing your past. After all, you did not want to use him. 

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[bowandcurtsey]

hihi! posting this another time because anony slid into my dms with verification :3 Thank you for that and thank you for the loooong wait! I've been busy in irl stuff like dealing with house reno shits. sigh.

Also this request came from HERE. And also, Nozel is already in there so we'll do Fuego and some other characters that I wanted to try, hehehe

Characters: Black Clover : Fuegoleon | Zora x f! reader Haikyuu: Ushijima | Kageyama (post time skip) x f! reader tw: nsfw-ish, minors dni. Unchecked works. I'll try not to describe too much of body size but reader is in a body size that can fit into the men's clothes.

Fuegoleon Vermillion

The sun was already high up in the skies, a rare occurrence for Fue to still be in bed. But it was his day off and he was happy to snuggle in bed with his beloved, you.

He reached out his arm to pull you closer, taking in the scent of your hair and - wait. There was a musky scent. It was coming from your clothes.

His eyes fluttered open in confusion, you smelt manly and familiar.. you smelt like him. You were wearing his sweat shirt from the night before.

Then he recalled, the late night love making session ended with the both of you falling asleep in each others arms naked.

Seeing you in his clothes, you must have been cold, which covered your frame nicely like a cute night dress turned up a flame in him. The fabric covered all his markings that he left on your skin from last night, yet you in his shirt meant that you belonged to him - wholly.

He found his member harden against your behind, wanting more of you, wanting his clothes wrapped around you, your skin full of his marks and your womb full of his seeds. Again.

Zora Ideale

Well this man hardly wore anything on usual days so he was pretty caught off guard when he woke up, finding you in one of his old hoodies one morning.

He stood there for awhile, looking at you in his hoodie, barely covering your ass. Your butt cheeks stuck out a little as you walked around the kitchen.

His arms wrapped around your waist from behind, giving your ass a little squeeze.

"where in the world did you find this hoodie?"

"mhmm from your side of the closet? It was pretty cold this morning so I just put it on~" you gave him a peck on the lips as you returned to your cooking.

"with nothing inside?" your boyfriend was feeling you up from above the hoodie.

"well this was warm enough- "

you didn't finish your sentence because he turned off the fire and carried you onto the dining table

"maybe breakfast can wait pretty girl," he lifted the hoodie a little, double confirming that you were indeed wearing nothing.

"baby! it's cold today!" you protested as your squirmed under his hold.

"I have no problems fucking you in my hoodie babes."

Ushijima Wakatoshi

There was a gala last night and you were dressed to the nines, looking sexy and beautiful in your maroon dress, while your man looked a sharp and smart in his maroon suit.

Of course everything came off the moment the both of you came home; you both couldn't keep your eyes off each other throughout the entire gala.

But this, was another thing altogether.

He called you, telling you to wake up because he got your favourite breakfast on the way home from his morning jog. But what he didn't expect was how you looked so fucking sexy in your bed head, sleepy face and in NOTHING except his huge white shirt.

"You're back from running? That was fast.." your words were still slurry from sleep.

"You look sexy like this." your man was not a person of words so he was always simple and straight to the point.

"I have no idea where my pjs are and this is the only thing I could put on..." you were trying to explain but you were scooped up in his huge arms as your thighs was wrapped around his waist.

His member was already poking at your entrance from under his trackpants.

"Toshi I can't, I'm still sore from yesterday..."

He didn't answer you, he was already pulling the cloth apart, exposing your breasts and sucking on them.

Kageyama Tobio

Your boyfriend was set to leave home again, to represent his country this time, for the olympics. You're proud of him, but you always miss him badly.

And on the mornings that he has to leave, you find yourself unable to let him go.

After rounds of love making last night, you were exhausted but you had to see him to the door. You hear fumbling around the house, him taking a shower and making some final packings. The car would be here soon to pick him to the airport.

You got out of bed, and put on one of his old jerseys.

"I'll miss you," you said sadly, standing at the kitchen doorway as he refilled your water bottle - something he always did for you before he left, so that you'll remind yourself to drink more while he was away.

He turned around blinking a few times at your outfit, or rather whatever that was barely covering your naked body.

He looked at his old karasuno jersey, he loved this particular one, in black and the number 9, and you looked so good in it, but all he could think of was your body and how he savoured it the night before.

His cheeks flushed a tint of pink, even after all the years together he was still flustered with you sometimes.

He pulled you close, pulling you up on the kitchen counter.

"I have a little more time.." he spoke quietly, his hands and fingers swiftly going underneath his shirt, pulling your panties off again.

His car was coming to pick him, but before that, he thought he'll coat your insides with his seeds again. How could he resist when you were in his favourite jersey?

#fuegoleon vermillion x reader #fuegoleon imagine #fuegoleon headcanons #fuegoleon x reader #zora ideale headcanons #black clover zora #zora ideale x reader #ushijima headcanons #ushijima imagine #ushijima x reader #ushijima scenarios #kageyama tobio imagines #kageyama tobio headcanons #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama headcanons #black clover headcanons #black clover imagine #black clover x reader #black clover scenarios #black clover fanfiction #black clover imagines #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x you #haikyuu imagines #lemon #smut

[ughgoaway]

White Christmas

Content warnings; blowjobs, face fucking, facials/cumming on face, degrading, dumbification, swearing, bad writing and cumplay.

a/n; hey y’all… apparently we are feeling horny this Christmas, so I decided to write some (mediocre) smut! This was all inspired by @abiiors making a joke about a “white Christmas” so you all have her to blame. This is basically an expansion of the letters O and K from my nsfw alphabet the other day because they were some of my favourite bits!! Anyway, merry Christmas, I hope you enjoy??

p.s; im not sure if this will stay up long, ik I say that most times, but honestly, this time, I really don't know if this will be here long lmaoooo

word count; 2.2k ish (pretty short one today bc i wrote it so last minute lol)

✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿

“We’re off now! See you both in a few hours!” Denise yelled back as she and Annie walked out the front door. Mayhem was pulling at the lead with so much strength that she was sure he could pull her arm out of her socket. 

“Alright, see you both later!” You say waving them off. Denise and Annie had decided to take mayhem for a long Christmas walk around the lake and then planned on popping into the only cafe open on Christmas for a couple of hot chocolates, leaving you and Matty to relax on your own for a few hours.

You come into the front room and perch on the sofa next to Matty as he shoves the remaining wrapping paper in a bin bag. He was in full dad-at-Christmas mode, grabbing the paper off people before they'd even finished opening their presents.

He finally settled back on the sofa with a sigh, looking at you with love-filled eyes and a soft smile on his lips, it was then you decided it was the perfect time to show Matty his final gift.

“Okay, I've got one more present for you handsome” You smirk at Matty and stand from the sofa, hurrying towards your bedroom, brimming with anticipation. 

“Baby, we said only one gift each!” Matty shouts after you. He tries to sound stern, but he can't help the smile that sneaks on his face as he speaks, and it's clear as day in his voice. 

“You’ll like it, I promise” You peek your head around the corner and wink at Matty before scurrying off again, leaving him confused but certainly curious. 

5 minutes later, Matty hears you coming down the stairs and turns his head to see you, but snaps it right back when he hears you shout, “Okay, keep your eyes closed!!” he giggles to himself but follows your instructions, shutting his eyes tight. 

“Okay sweetheart, all closed” Matty yells back. He listens for you coming in and has to fight the urge to open them as soon as he feels your presence. 

Matty is pretty sure he could pick you out of a lineup blindfolded, from the first moment he met you he had memorised how you feel around him. He took note of the lingering jasmine that followed you wherever you went and the feeling of warmth that surrounded you.

“Open,” you say shyly. 

As Matty blinked open his eyes, and immediately his face scrunched in confusion. He was expecting you to be standing in front of him with a box in your arms, but there was no sign of you.

Or he thought there wasn't, until he felt a warm hand on his thigh and flicked his eyes downwards. 

“Fuck.” he grunted, staring down at you in awe. 

You were on your knees between his legs, dressed in only bright red lacy lingerie. Delicate bows sat at the top of the straps, in the centre of your chest, and at the waistband of your panties, with thin straps trailing over your collarbones. The lace was transparent, highlighting your pebbled nipples and weepy cunt. Matty could see the darker maroon lace of your panties and could feel himself salivating at the sight.

His stance widened instinctively, and you slid closer to him, already tracing his thigh with a featherlight touch. Red gloves cover your hands to match, the satin shining from the fairy lights spread around the room.

Also coordinating was your makeup. Matty watched your cherry-red glossy lips part as you palmed over his trousers, moaning obnoxiously at the feeling.

“What do you think, babe?” you ask sweetly, smiling at Matty and fluttering your mascara-coated eyelashes at him. Your hands unzip his trousers and fight to pull them down. Matty lifts his hips thoughtlessly, helping you tug down his slacks. He sits watching you with his jaw dropped, his hands itching to touch you.

But he stayed frozen, not wanting to take over your little surprise just yet.

Your sticky burgundy lips leave marks in your wake as you press kisses to his thigh, the gloss sticking to his leg with each peck. The tip of your tongue teases against his skin, running between the smears of red you left behind. 

With a pout, you sit back, pulling a frustrated groan from deep within Matty’s chest.

That was the final straw for him. You coming out dressed like that, all pretty and ready for him already had him fighting the instinct to throw you on this sofa and fuck you until you're sobbing.

But you teasing him with wet, barely-there kisses? He couldn't fucking cope.

He can't keep his hands to himself anymore, one shooting to your hair and gripping it firmly. The tug on your scalp causes a hiss to escape your scarlet lips, followed by a needy moan.

Matty had recently admitted to you that he had discovered a new kink, dumbificiation. also known as; you playing innocent and stupid as he fucked you ruthlessly and called you a cock-drunk slut. so you decide to play it up for him, indulge him in his fantasy.

“Will you show me how to suck you off? Please, sir, I need some help.” You whimper desperately, pleading eyes staring up at Matty. 

You both know you're lying, but somehow, that makes it even hotter for Matty, and he can feel his boxers tightening further.

“Oh is that right, angel?” Matty says with a chuckle, pulling at your hair harshly and forcing another whimper out of your kiss-bitten lips.

“Well I guess I’ll just have to tell you what to do. can you do that, baby? Listen to my instructions?” Matty looks down at you with faux sympathy, even pouting at you teasingly.

He moves his hand to paw at your chest, twisting a nipple cruelly, awaiting your response. 

Any chance at you forming a coherent sentence was gone as soon as you dropped to your knees. Seeing Matty's eyes go black and his breath beginning to quicken made your mind blank, the only thought left was his name over and over.

Matty's other hand moved to your face, caressing your cheek carefully and watching the pink bloom across them. You settle into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut as you do. 

But a harsh slap makes you snap them right back open, the red print of his hand leaving a welt on your face. Tears brim in your eyes, and a needy whimper escapes you, involuntarily clenching your thighs at the feeling. 

“F-fuck” you splutter, already feeling tears fall down your cheek. Matty brings his hand back, and you flinch, sucking in a harsh breath, preparing for the impact. 

But nothing comes. 

Just the warmth of his palm against your flushed cheeks, you quiver at the contact. A sly smile takes over his features before his face settles back into a pout.

“Sorry baby, but you have to keep your eyes on me. How else are you gonna learn, hmm?” Matty teases cruelly, smirking at your fast, needy nods. His mind was spinning at the sight in front of him, his girlfriend so ready and needy for him.

“Oh baby, you can't even speak, huh? Well, if you can't do that, then you are definitely too dumb to understand any instructions, aren't you?” Matty asks, smiling at the pathetic cry that leaves your lips at his questions, embarrassed at the pool that is forming between your legs with each word he utters. 

“That's what I thought baby, let me look after you. I’m gonna fuck your mouth instead, okay? fuck you stupid yeah? Or, more stupid I should say.” He snickers at your face, admiring the hazy look in your eyes. Already slipping into subspace without even really touching him. 

You nod rapidly at him, already eagerly opening your mouth. Matty pulls himself out of his boxers, and you have to fight the ragged groan that threatens to escape you at the sight. 

Hot beads of precum dribble down his shaft, his tip red and angry. You can feel the saliva pooling on your tongue. Matty groans as he grabs his cock and brings it to your lips, but he manages fights the urge to push into your throat for a few more seconds. Determined to torture you a little more.

Matty taunts you by tapping his tip against your bottom lip, smirking at the stings of gloss that come between you, watching the streams of red fall down your chin. A breathless moan from you has Matty grinning before slipping into your greedy throat. 

He grunts at the warm and wet feeling that surrounds him, starting slowly as he ruts into you.

Soon enough, his hips start to snap harshly, increasing in pace as he throws his head back with a wrecked groan. Each plunge into your throat happened faster than the last, and Matty chuckled darkly at the feeling of you drooling around him already.

the sensation drove matty insane. He used to dream of you like this for him, and seeing it in reality was something he would never get used to. all those nights of him fucking his first and whimpering your name were a distant memory as discordant moans left his bitten lips.

“That's it. Fucking take it." demanded Matty, pounding your throat mercilessly. He watches the spit bubble at the corner of your mouth and dribble down your chin onto your chest, wetting your tits as it falls. 

With a hash thrust, Matty forces himself all the way down your throat and holds himself there, gripping the back of your head brutally. He feels you constricting around him, choking on his cock as you fight for air. 

His grip tightens, and he pulls you forward even further, beaming to himself as you cough and sputter around him. You feel drunk from arousal, loving the way Matty is using you like a fuck toy, only considering his own pleasure.

You feel fingers weave in your hair, and he pulls you off harshly, laughing sadistically at the hurried breaths you suck in.

“Not my fault you don't know how to suck me off, if you're too fucking brainless to know what to do then I’ll do what I want.” He forces himself back in your waiting mouth, thrusting frantically and grunting.

Obscene noises fill the air around you, wet and sticky as he fills your throat. But you swallow around him obediently, like you can't get enough of his cock. Drooling around his dick was where you were meant to be, being the submissive slut he always dreamt of.

Matty stares down at you like you were a mirage, what the fuck did he do to get this lucky?

Your lips were stretched and swollen around him, your cheeks hollowed. Each time you hum around Matty he feels his hips stutter, the vibration almost sending him over the edge. 

Streams of black mascara roll down your cheeks, and Matty moves his hand to wipe at them, marvelling at the dark streaks they leave behind. A red ring sat at the base of his dick from your lipstick. His unrelenting force meant all around your mouth was stained red. 

Any lipstick that was on your lips was smudged over the lower half of your face. It matched the hand-shaped mark Matty left on your cheek perfectly. 

He worked at a punishing pace, and with each thrust in your mouth, Matty felt himself teetering on the edge of bliss. But when your hand came up to play with his balls, pulling at them gently and massaging them with your warm hands, Matty was done for. 

“I'm gonna cum. Fuck- can I cum on your pretty face baby? I want to finish off your beautiful makeup.” a garbled yes from you was all the permission Matty needed, pulling out of your mouth and stroking his dick furiously.

You keep your mouth wide open, panting and holding eye contact with Matty, practically begging him to cum. His muscles tense as shockwaves grip his body, stars dancing across his vision.

Hot spurts of white cum fall over your face, painting your cheeks and lips. Streams fill your mouth, and you moan greedily as they do. Streaks of cum fall over your eyelashes, weighing them down as you stare up at Matty hungrily. 

His chest heaves as he looks down at you like an artist stares at their masterpiece, his cum painting your face was akin to looking at the mona lisa for Matty. He threw his head back against the cushions and fought to catch his breath.

Matty's body was limp as you crawled onto his lap, bracketing his hips with thighs and kissing him furiously. Smearing his face with his cum.

He has the fleeting thought that this might be the filthiest blow job he's ever received, smiling into the kiss at the idea.

a slurp fills with air as he sucks on your tongue, tasking the distinctly musky taste that always lingers. You both pull away, panting with Cheshire-cat-like grins on your face.

With a huff, you collapse next to Matty, who is already wiping your face with tissues carefully, staring at you with adoration as he does. 

Balled-up tissues get thrown on the table as you snuggle into Matty's side. He sucks in a shaky breath before speaking.

“Well that was definitely a white Christmas, wasn't it, baby?” he laughs at the groan you let out, burrowing your face into his neck as your cheeks burn.

“Fucking hell. I can't believe I just let you fuck my face, and you say that afterwards." you mumble into his neck, pressing kisses to the collum of his throat.

“Mmm you love me” he teases, pinching at your side playfully.

“You’re lucky I do” you say, pulling back with a smile.

#matty healy smut #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x reader #matty healy fanfic #the 1975 smut #merry Christmas i guess!!!! #this counts as festive... right... #teacher au! #(kind of but also just general smut lol) #matty healy fic

[gay-wh0re-slut]

Thank you so much for doing my angst request! It was so good!Can I request a new one? I’m in a mood for angst lately, but with smutty ending lol

Reader and Rhea have broke up a while ago, but Rhea is taking it harder than she thought she would. She hears that reader is going on dates (which is actually just to kill time and as an effort to move on, but Rhea doesn’t know that). She feels angry and jealous that she’s replaced so fast and confronts reader about it. During the argument things are getting heated and “somehow” they resolve the misunderstanding horizontally 😅

i’m so glad you liked it! I’m hoping it was the one with the prompt bc that one was fun to write. thank you for making another request!

after writing: it’s a bit more sad than angry bc i lowkey went thru this a while ago lmaooo so sorry bout that but i hope you like it hahahahahaoops and they’re not really horizontal but it’s still hot lmaoo

Over

rhea x fem reader

content: angst-ish with sad rhea, smutttttt, oral sexxxx, fingeringggg, hot buff goth woman kissing youuu ooooooo

It’s been two months since you and Rhea have broken up. The first month was hard on you but the second month you wanted to get your mind off of it so you decided to download all the dating apps you could think of. You’ve been on a few first dates and a few second dates but none have lived up to your expectations.

It has been really hard on the wrestler though. She claimed that she did it because she was getting so busy that she felt it wasn’t fair to you that she wasn’t able to be around as much as she wanted. So she decided to end things, unfortunately for her, she didn’t realize how much she relied on you to get away from all the buzz.

You haven’t spoken or texted Rhea for three weeks and it was hurting you, but she was the one to end things so why should I try? you thought. You and her had mutual friends that you would hang out with sometimes and they would try to tell you updates on her but you didn’t want to hear them.

“She really misses you,” they would say.

“Then she shouldn’t have left me,” said the anger stage of grief.

Part of you knew that the friends were telling her that you were going on dates and how you were doing but you didn’t care. You wanted to seem like the ‘bigger person’ and make it seem like you moved on.

One night, you had been chatting with a girl on one of the many dating apps and things were going suspiciously well so you set up a date for the next day, just to see. It was at a local coffee shop because you wanted it to be in public in case something went wrong.

You wore a long maroon, but sort of tight dress that showed off your curves just right, some light makeup, and your hair natural; you didn’t want to try too hard. The time came and you headed to the shop, ordered coffee and sat down at a small table in the corner.

People came and went and you were there for about twenty minutes, checking your phone and scrolling through social media. Because you were waiting for quite a while, you didn’t want to come off as someone who got stood up, so you decided to text her.

“You still coming?”

“Sorry, something came up, maybe another day?”

Of course. This wasn’t the first time this happened and it sure wouldn’t be the last.

“All good,” was the only thing you said. You didn’t like putting effort into something that wasn’t going to go anywhere. If they wasted your time, then they don’t care about you, your friend would say, but something seemed off.

You brushed it off, drank your coffee and enjoyed your time alone, it was nice. You rarely went out by yourself, so it was good for a change.

You finally finished your latte, so you head back home. To your surprise, there was a familiar black truck in your driveway.

“No fucking way,” you growl as you park the car. You sit for a few minutes contemplating going somewhere else in town, maybe a movie or something long enough to where she would leave on her own, but you decided against it. “If she wants to talk then let’s talk.”

You slammed the car door and stomped inside to her helping herself to a glass of water.

“Sorry to show up out of the blue,” the australian admitted.

“No you’re not,” you threw your keys down on the counter.

“Excuse me?”

“Obviously you have something to say that you couldn’t call or text about so…” you crossed your arms keeping your distance.

She was silent but you could tell she was trying not to go off.

“So?” you push.

“You’ve been going on dates,” she finally said.

“Yeah and? Why does it matter? You broke up with me,” the lump in your throat began to form, you were never good with confrontation but you swallowed it down.

“It’s only been two months!” she barked as she threw her hands up.

“People grieve differently!”

“You’re not grieving, you’re trying to get back at me.”

“I’m not. I’m trying to move on,” you glare.

“Moving on means seeing other people after two months?” She walked to the kitchen table and leaned on the back of one of the chairs, gripping it tightly.

“Yes, it does because I’m tired of throwing myself a pity party every night.”

“As if I haven’t done that?” she gestured to herself.

“You broke up with me,” you reiterate.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t miss you!” She walked to the bar area of the kitchen counter.

You let the words hang in the air, you genuinely didn’t have a response to that.

“It’s like you didn’t even care to reach out,” she sighed under her breath.

“The phone works both ways,” you rebutted.

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“I didn’t think you wanted to!”

“Of course I did! I wanted to remain friends,” her cheeks were flush.

You try to calm your breathing and think hard about what you’re going to say because you didn’t want to get her feelings anymore than you did, apparently. “It’s hard to remain friends with someone you had fallen in love with and been with for a year.”

“As if I don’t know that?!” She crossed her arm and held her forehead with the other, “I had hope that we could work our way back.”

“Well…”

She took a long deep breath, before looking back up at you, “so you don’t want to try?”

“Literally when did I say that?”

“You didn’t have to say anything! I can tell with the way this is going that you don’t want to,” she was trying to calm herself down but you could tell she was struggling.

“No, no, no, back to the main question, why do you care that I’ve been seeing other people? We broke up!” you uncrossed your arms and got yourself some water too, your hands needed to do something.

“Because!” she huffed, “Because I still care for you and I don’t want you to get hurt,” she sighed once more, “and I miss you.”

You stop in your tracks and set the glass down gently before your impulse took over to throw it. You glare at her, “then why did you leave?”

“Because it wasn’t fair to you! We barely saw each other and when we did we would fight! I loved you too much to do that to you,” tears began to form in her eyes but she didn’t dare let them fall.

“I was perfectly fine letting you do what you love and was willing to work it out, you never talked to me about how you felt! You just up and left!” you threw back.

“Are you serious?! I had a flight that morning I had to leave, it was nothing to do with you.”

“You could’ve waited,” you growled.

“And make you feel more miserable?”

“I wasn’t!! That’s what I’m saying! I loved you, hell I still do, but that was bad the way you did it and you know it,” you pointed at her, hoping that she didn’t catch that one part.

“You what?”

Damn it, “you heard me.”

She sat at the bar and hung her head in her hands, sniffling.

“Rhea…” you start, and the lump in your throat was getting bigger, “I was distracting myself so that I could stop thinking about you. You consume my life, I think about you all the time,” a tear fell and you wiped it away before she could see. “I couldn’t do anything that first month, I was miserable, I had to do something.”

She lifted her head, her face was red and covered in tears. “I never stopped loving you,” she admitted.

“That makes two of us,” you said under your breath. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I didn’t want to hurt you again,” she wiped her nose with a paper towel.

You couldn’t think of anything to say. You sat there staring at her, thinking of everything you’ve ever done together and where it went wrong, but it never came up. “What do you want me to say?” you sigh.

“I don’t know,” she caught your eyes. Those icy blue perfect eyes staring back into you.

“Then what do you want from me?”

She sat for a minute racking her brain, trying to think of an answer that was different from what she wanted to say, but what’s the use, she thought and decided to shoot her shot anyway, “Another chance?”

You contemplate for a few short seconds, “You have to promise me-”

“I’ll do anything please, baby,” she didn’t mean to call you that, but you let it slide.

“You have to promise me that you’ll keep me informed on your schedule no matter what. We will make it work. Take me with you, I’ll pay for the extra bed, I’ll pay for the tickets, just…” you take a deep breath, “don’t give up again.” You didn’t think you would fold so quickly, but here you were.

“I promise, I’ll send it right now, the whole month. And when the next one comes I’ll send you that too,” as she took out her phone and sent it, “we can download a shared calendar app.”

“Thank you,” you took a sip of your water and set it back down. “Now are you going to admit that you were supposed to meet me at the coffee shop or what?”

“I had to get to you somehow,” she smiled nervously.

“You didn’t think that Leah Shipley wouldn’t raise an eyebrow?”

“Hey, what can you do?” she shrugged.

The two of you sat in silence for a good minute smiling at the thought of her trying to trick you.

“So are you going to kiss me or what?” you said a little too confidentally.

She basically ran around the counter and slammed her mouth against yours, holding your jaw. Your hands grabbed her waist and pulled her in tightly.

“God, I missed you,” she breathed.

“Shut up,” as you kiss her again.

She carefully walked you backwards towards the counter as your lips danced against hers. Your hands found themselves roaming her body naturally, like it was never gone.

She picked you up onto the counter, carefully moving things away. Her hips shoved their way in between your thighs pushing your dress up as she went, as you wrapped your legs around her, pulling her in as close as possible.

A hand found its way into your hair and yanked it to the side letting a whimper spill out of you. She kissed down your neck, biting delicately sending shockwaves down to your core. She kissed her way down your chest until she couldn’t find anymore bare skin. Suddenly, her arms pulled you forward to where you almost fell off the counter, yanking your dress farther up. She planted soft kisses on your inner thighs which made you crazy.

“Can I-” she whispered before you cut her off.

“Do it. I don’t care just fuck me, please baby,” you had missed her touch so badly. No one had ever made you feel the way she did, it was insane. She knew how to work you out just right.

With a devilish smirk she bit harder on your thighs spreading them as far as they would go. Your hand tangled itself in her hair as you used the other one to lean back. She grabbed at the waistband of your underwear and slid them off of you. A shiver hit your body as the cool air hit your hot center.

Her eyes widened at the sight of you basically dripping onto the counter, “Damn, baby, you missed me that much?”

“Shut up,” you said once more and shoved her head into you.

She immediately began lapping at your juices. You moan loudly with your head slamming on the cabinets behind you. A small “fuck,” fell from your lips followed by another moan. Her hand grazed up your thigh, lightly scratching its way up. It reached around to the small of your back and pushed you more forward into her. Riding her face, your hand gripped hair tighter. The hand sneaked its way back around and prodded at your entrance.

“Please, yes,” you whine.

And so she did, gently plunging her two fingers into you. “God,” you groan as your eyes rolled back.

She kissed the inside of your thighs before returning to your neck and kissing her way up to your lips. You grab her face, kissing her intensely, as she’s now pounding into you. Her other hand returns to your now swollen clit and adds to the knot growing inside of you.

“You missed me, baby?” she coos.

“So… fucking… bad,” you breathe.

“Then show me,” she growled.

Only a few seconds pass and you released all over her hand with a loud moan, squeezing your legs closed but was stopped by her hips blocking your way. Your back arching into the woman in front of you, “ffffffucccckk,” you whine as she kisses your neck. Your nails are digging into her shoulder blades as she continues to pump in and out of you letting you enjoy the high.

As you came down, catching your breath, you release your grip on her shoulders. Your head lolled forward leaning onto the wrestlers forehead for a few breaths before leaning back onto the cabinet. She gently pulled her fingers out of you and brought them to her mouth, cleaning them off.

“I forgot how good you taste, princess,” her accent was so thick you almost came undone again.

“It’s been too long,” you sigh.

“I guess we have some catching up to do, then huh?” she smirked. She picked you up with a giggle coming from both of you and began to carry you to your bedroom.

#rhea ripley #wwe #rhea ripley x reader

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

It Had To Be You

Before I get into my big explaining rant, reblogs are very much appreciated! I know this is usually a rant blog but when I spend so long on a drawing I want to have people see it and stare at it like I do LOL

Also for the ALT text, a lot of the details are going to be explained below so if you’d like extra details please read!

So, my designs! I really hate Husk’s design; as in I hate drawing it. It’s too red and tiny for me, Husk is very orange and round to me, he’s like a really chubby cat that you flip over in the bed and smack their belly and kiss em. He also kinda reminds me of Tigerstar from Warriors but like if he was a more morally correct person. Kind of. I removed all of the red from Husk and replaced it with little motifs of orange and brown like in his ears, his eyebrows, wings, and the little patch on his snout. For his wings I tried to base them around a Brown Thrasher because they fit the colour I needed and they’re very defensive birds which is a trait I’d like to see in Husk more. Seeing him protecting others with his wings in Episode 8 was a very cute touch and I want more of that. Oh and the little orange bit on his snout was based on one of my old cats named Whiskey and I thought that was fitting cause yknow. Whiskey. 🥃. Also it’s cute!

Part of Husk’s orange colouration also falls under some inspiration I received from @bluehazardanonymous whom you may see on my blog again. But they sent me a very interesting colour chart and it made my brain go funny

Husk’s design has a lot of orange, yellow, and small hints of red like his undone bowtie and hat band/ace of hearts card. The orange for gluttony is mostly related to alcohol and such, meanwhile the yellow in his eyes, shirt patch, and on the button on his hat are to show greed from things like gambling and possible leftovers from being an overlord. I don’t think you can just go from being all powerful to some random bartender and NOT have some kind of thirst for power right???? That also bleeds into the red parts (haha cause blood red) to keep his design on the warm side and have a little bit of anger in there.

His clothes are also supposed to look a bit sloppy and kinda sad cause I mean. He is. But they are also all relatively formal items of clothing. By the way I’m never drawing this guy shirtless, sorry you need to beg and pay for that/j

Now for Angel. With Angel being pink-ish and how I usually draw the rest of Hell, I try to make Hell more gross looking and greenish/sickly, generally unpleasant, so that Angel is more eye catching and pops out more like a celebrity would. A lot of the cast in my head is more orange/maroon coloured, not a lot of pink or salmon colours. Of course pink is under lust on the colour wheel, but I personally don’t like chalking Angel up to just his job, nor do i really like using “true” pink. I always keep him in this range:

Also that white is not for him it’s for other things, I always make him a cream-ish colour. I like pink with red undertones always, especially for Angel. It shows his job very blatantly if you take a simple glance at him, but if you’re nuts like me and colour pick from these that I use, you’ll see a lot of them are closer to red, rather than the bright pink-ish-purple colour for lust. And also closer to his original more purple design!

I think it goes without saying that Angel has a lot of pent up anger and frustration that he hides with his persona and humour, and I think trying to show some of that in his colours is a lot more interesting than just haha pink gay spider. I dunno.

Also I thought these little cowlick flip thingies on the side were really cute

I was originally going to make the sign in the back purple since that’s usually the colour of most XXX signs in Hazbin, but the yellow makes everything else look a lot more dingy and gross while still being bright and I love that. Also the yellow is kind of a shallow jab of my own at the adult entertainment industry, a lot of this stuff is just people being exploited for money but I will go on a tangent about this if I don’t shift topic!! Anyway. A lot of the background isn’t super visible, but based on the colours I was kinda going for a more envy & wrath & greed section of the pride ring. Just seems like a good place to smoke. The rain doesn’t hold much symbolism to it but it is there to make the area seem more unpleasant. Yknow how it rains sometimes and the sewage in the street comes up? Like that.

Im really happy with a bunch of stuff in this art. 10 hours, 184+ layers, and 11751 strokes is probably the most I have ever done for.. anything????? Even if you don’t like the art I hope you appreciate the long rant LOL

Be sure to have a good day and drink something ‼️

#hazbin hotel #angel dust #husker #huskerdust #platonic huskerdust #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin critical #hazbin angel dust #hazbin angel #hazbin hotel critical #angel dust hazbin #hazbin hotel rewrite #hazbin husker #husker hazbin hotel #husker x angel dust #husker fanart #angel dust x husk #angel dust and husk #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #husk hazbin hotel #angel x husk #raimble

[sungbeam]

BIRD HUNT — three

nonidol!choi line x f!reader

gotham city is a gutter running rampant with the ill, corrupt, and the insane. at times, justice and vengeance must be served by one's own hand... no matter the lengths one must go to do so.

▷ genre, au, etc. bat family au, dc comics inspired, dark, vigilantes au, slow burn, ceo/billionaire au, cat woman!reader, murder mystery au, action, suspense, angst, slow burn-ish?, love square??; choi line inspired by dick grayson (csb), jason todd (cyj), and tim drake (cbg), including bruce wayne for choi minho and damian wayne for nishimura riki, inspired by 2022's The Batman

▷ chapter warnings. swearing, mentions of death and murder, mentions of weaponry, depictions of violence, use of pepper spray, breaking and entering

▷ word count. 4.4k // taglist: open

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FILE_03 : by the tail

gotham city.

[seven days since your mother was murdered.]

"Is she here?"

The voice was familiar to your sensitive ears, and although your eyes remained fixed on Mrs. Lee, you shifted your attention mentally to the two—no, three—wait… four?—figures making their way over to where you and Mrs. Lee stood in the home office space. Their footsteps were as quiet as heeled loafers could be against hollow wood floors. The Lees' home in the suburbs was a safe distance from the heart of Gotham, so the neighborhood was much nicer and much more like a home. The Lees had been ushered here after Lee Sungjae had been found murdered, and they'd resided here since.

You had been called in the day after the incident happened—that was the day after you had gone to see your father. We must work fast, Yn. They've already gotten to one of my… men. That was what he'd told you, and when he elaborated, you had discovered that every news channel now blasted footage of Lee Sungjae's dead, glassy eyes.

You had been busy since, trying to both grieve in peace and work at the same time.

"—take more time, Yn-ah. Losing a loved—" Mrs. Lee's voice cracked slightly and she covered her mouth.

"Mrs. Lee—"

She waved your hand away, angling her body away slightly so she could regain composure. "No, no. It's alright. I'm alright. I just… I know how it feels, and I think you deserve time to yourself, as well."

Of course you told her about your mother. You had to take another day off when one of your coworkers had noticed how spaced out you were when you came in. No, you didn't tell her your mother was murdered the same way her husband had. That was between you, your father, and the motherfucker who did this.

But for now, you were supposed to be here to answer the police's questions about your employer. You had been one of three of Mr. Lee's secretaries for the past several months now, having come under his employ about a year ago after Choi Enterprises turned you away. But magically, a few days afterward, this offer from the office of one Lee Sungjae had arrived in your inbox. When one door closed, as they said, another opened. Whatever guardian angel was looking over you then certainly wasn't looking over you now though.

"Miss Ln?"

You turned around and expected to see Commissioner Kim Namjoon and your co-secretary, Shin Ryujin, but you hadn't expected the two others with them. They stood behind the two aforementioned, both in black domino masks that covered the top halves of their faces. Their suits were skintight, most likely to allow for more mobility, but they also accentuated their starkly muscular figures. The taller one wore a suit of dark blue and black, while the other donned a maroon red and black ensemble. You recognized them, respectively, as Gotham's very own Nightwing and the Red Robin. Vigilantes. What were they doing with Commissioner Kim?

Ryujin bowed her way out, gently taking Mrs. Lee with her. That left you with the others.

"Hello, Miss Ln," Commissioner Kim greeted with a tired, but not unkind, smile. He fished a small notepad out of his coat pocket, ballpoint pen clicking to life. "My name is Commissioner Kim. These two… not sure if you need any introductions."

When you remained silent with only a nod, he continued, "We're here investigating the murder of your former employer, and we were informed that you often handled his familial affairs. We've already spoken with Miss Shin and Mr. Yun, but we wanted to ask where you were last Wednesday night at ten o'clock."

You were very aware that Nightwing had decided to wander about the office, eyes taking in the shelves and the notes and the desk… then there was Red Robin, who's attention was pinned intently on you, arms crossed firmly over his chest. There was something awfully familiar about these two. "Is that an accusation, Commissioner?" You asked, leaning against the edge of the desk.

"It doesn't have to be," he said airily. "Just answer the question, Miss."

"I was at home," you answered, schooling your face into neutrality. "You can ask my employer's wife and my coworkers—I was taking time off to grieve my mother's death."

The shock was not the most stark on the commissioner's face, but on Red Robin's. "She's dead?—" He coughed; even Nightwing had paused his movements. "I mean, I'm sorry for your loss." You didn't recognize the voice, but you suspected it was probably being disguised with a voice modulator.

The commissioner sent him a bewildered look, but turned back to you. "I'm very sorry for your loss, Yn. Truly." He asked with almost a grimace, "Can anyone corroborate your whereabouts? I understand you were most likely home alone, but perhaps a neighbor, a significant other…?"

And there it was again—that shift in energy as both the vigilantes in the room stopped to focus on you.

You shook your head with a tight smile. It probably wouldn't bode well if you revealed to them who your father was or that you paid the Iceberg Lounge a visit that day. You were also a little too preoccupied with survival to have a significant other, and you hadn’t been close enough to a neighbor in years. "No. Just my cats."

There was something so familiar about this Red Robin character, but you couldn't put a finger on it. Or maybe it was the way he was staring at you with such pity (and sympathy) that made you wish he was someone else. Either way, you needed to know why these two vigilantes were put on the case, and what they might have already found out. At the moment, it didn't seem like it would pose a problem, but you thought it wouldn't hurt to be a little more careful.

When you arrived home that night, bones aching as much as your head pulsed, you collapsed on the couch. A few of your cats began to swarm your legs, soft fur tickling the skin exposed when your pant leg lifted. Blue, a very introverted Russian Blue who you managed to make an extrovert when it came to you, plopped himself onto your lap like a warm, vibrating mass. You ran your fingers through his fur to the symphony of someone's purrs (you figured it was Byeol; he was quite vocal).

"Should I invite him to the funeral?" You murmured to Blue in question.

He stared back at you, then silently turned his gaze to a particle of dust floating in the air.

You exhaled back against the couch cushions. "I'll take that as a yes."

In the dead of night—because there was always a dead of night, even for Gotham City—you pulled a dark beanie over your head and the top half of your face. Two holes had been cut and sewn for your eyes to see through, and at the top of the hat, two little triangles sat akin to ears. You recalled the night you had crocheted this on a whim, your mother having done most of the work.

"Blue wants it to have cat ears, mama," you'd told her just as she brought out her tub of yarns.

Your mother's eyes glittered. "Is that right? Well, we'll have to add cat ears then, won't we?"

You thought it would be fitting to find her killer in this. You thought it fit you quite well, at least.

The rest of you was dressed in black, and your hand grazed over Soul's fluffy, white head as you propped open the second floor window. "I'll be home soon," you whispered to the last of your family, then disappeared into the night.

"I can't get why this is so familiar to me," Beomgyu voiced into the echoes of the Batcave, hands braced against the main monitor as he stared at the copy of the note: A Debt Repaid. He had been staring at it for the past week, not consecutively, but it hadn't left the forefront of his mind. Like you.

Soobin trudged over to his brother with a bowl of cereal cradled in his large palm, the other hand spooning the sweet milk and wheat flakes into his mouth. "Mm. Maybe give it a rest for a little, Beom."

"And do what?"

"How do you know Ln Yn?"

Beomgyu whirled around just as Soobin settled into the desk chair, waiting. Beomgyu made a scoffing noise, eyebrows flying up to his shaggy bangs. "Where did that come from?"

Soobin smiled and shrugged. "You tell me." He slurped up a bit more milk before adding, "You're the one who reacted like that in front of everyone when she said she was grieving her mother's death. You sounded shocked that she died."

"Well yeah, wouldn't you be shocked to hear someone else died so close to another's death?"

"Stop trying to bullshit him, Gyu."

Both the brothers looked up at the voice who had just entered the underground space. Yeonjun strolled into the main area in a white tank top and sweats, hair sticking up in different places. He stretched his arms above his head and yawned loud and wide.

Soobin cocked a brow at him. "Nice of you to finally join us, hyung. How'd the date go?"

"Great," Yeonjun quipped. "We're going on a second one soon. I think Felix almost sent me off with a kiss goodnight." He slumped onto the edge of the desk, eyes lazily taking in the images and information displayed on the many monitor screens. "This is our stiff, huh?"

Soobin sent him a look that distinctly said 'No, we're just looking at dead bodies for fun.'

"Yeah," Beomgyu replied. "The note the killer left is so familiar to me though. Have you seen it before?" He knocked his knuckles against the monitor with the note.

Yeonjun's eyes narrowed on the screen, before he leaned back with that bored look renewed on his face. "You're both idiots. It's from that one killing a couple weeks ago."

Beomgyu and Soobin traded looks. "What?"

Their eldest brother leaned down to reach the lowest drawer at the desk. From its depths, he fished out a large bag of chips and grabbed a handful to stuff his face with. "Y'know," he garbled and gestured vaguely with his crumb-dusted fingers. "Beomgyu, you know! You were there with me. It was that one lawyer guy who was found dead in his car beneath the bridge. That same note was taped to his windshield."

"Oh yeah," Beomgyu drawled, while Soobin shook his head with a sigh. The former then knocked his foot against the latter's shin. "Aye! You didn't even know it."

"Yeah, because I wasn't on that case," Soobin fired back. He finished off the rest of his bowl of cereal and set the empty ceramic in his lap before crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes, like his brothers' were lined beneath with heavy eye bags. Someone was supposed to be on patrol around the city right now, but neither of the three brothers were in any rush to get up. "So it's just one person going after these people then."

Yeonjun chewed his bottom lip. "Then we just gotta find the connection."

"Was the lawyer guy from a couple weeks ago Lee Sungjae's attorney?" Soobin asked.

Beomgyu grabbed a hold of the wireless keyboard on the desk and braced it upon his thighs. He pulled up an internet browser and typed in their inquiry. All three brothers made noises of disgruntlement; if the lawyer hadn't been Sungjae's attorney, then how were they connected? It was no secret that 99.9 percent of the population here in Gotham had some sort of… shadow looming over their shoulder. It was almost impossible to get anywhere without the help of a corrupt figure, whether that be a mob boss like the Penguin or loan shark with special strategies to get someone to pay up.

Either way, there would be lots of digging required.

"Let's start with Lee Sungjae and the lawyer's records,'' Soobin decided as he sat up in the chair. "We'll sort through phone records, acquire security footage of their movements, their texts, etcetera."

"I call none of those," Yeonjun said. When his younger brothers scowled at him, he raised both hands in feigned surrender with a giggle. "Fine, fine. You're both lookin' at me like I murdered your favorite puppy."

They remained silent.

"What, too soon?"

The basement headquarters suddenly erupted in a dull siren sound, and Beomgyu was swift to pull up a set of footage on one of the monitors. It displayed a section of the sky, a white spotlight circle cast against a massive, dark gray cumulus cloud with a distinct bat shape in the center—their call to action.

All three men were on their feet in an instant—keyboard and cereal bowl abandoned on the table, capes and utility belts clicked into place.

"Meet you losers there!" Yeonjun hollered as the cave filled with the revving roar of his motorcycle engine like a clap of thunder.

Soobin and Beomgyu hurried over to their respective cycles. "Hey, we're not done talking about Ln Yn!" Soobin called to his younger brother.

Beomgyu flashed him a thin smile. "That's what you think!" And he sped away down the runway.

Soobin chuckled to himself, grinning. Then he revved his engine and launched himself after his brothers.

To be completely honest, you had no idea what you were doing. Actually, that was a lie. You kind of knew what you were doing, but that was leagues away from completely knowing what you were doing until it was muscle memory. Right now though, as you gripped onto the side of the building, fingertips digging into the concrete ledge like a lifeline (because it might as well had been one), you couldn't wait until it became muscle memory.

God, your arms were going to ache tomorrow morning.

"It's worth it, Yn," you muttered to yourself, under your breath, and that was what made you reach up one more time and grasp onto the ledge of the window sill. You had always wondered why buildings like this lacked security cameras, but based on its practically smooth facade, it was no wonder. Only a crazy person would dare scale something like this.

The law firm building was not one of the largest nor one of the dingiest. If it had been some place like Clark & Field, you would have considered other ways to get into the building, but it would probably be through the inside (because scaling a fifty story skyscraper without a net was not on your bucket list). And if the building had been on the dingier side, it would have, frankly, been much easier to find footholds and places to brace. Except for any mold or crumbly parts. That was not fun either.

Or maybe you could classify scaling buildings as just… not fun in general. But the skills and the strength would come with time.

This time, however, was fueled by pure willpower.

But the universe was on your side for once, and the window you clung to gave way and granted you entry. The stupid lock picks had actually worked.

Despite being dead for two weeks, Yang Eunhyuk’s office still looked like its owner was still alive. There were documents left out in the open, all of the furniture had yet to be touched, there was an old (upon further investigation, really old) cup of coffee on the desk, and a two-week-old calendar for the week’s appointments and cases. You peered at the calendar and skimmed its contents, but found nothing terribly noteworthy. You strolled by the bookcase, footsteps light as a cat’s, and glimpsed the titles. There were a lot of convoluted-sounding titles on the shelves, and honestly, you doubted that he even read half of the books there. They were probably just for show when clients came in.

After you had given yourself a tour of the space, you determined that no one had truly cared enough about this man to really clean up for him. The door out into the hallway was locked, and through its frosted glass door, you could make out the distinct yellow police tape crossed over the frame. This was no crime scene, but the police had still had the room locked down… odd.

You figured they didn’t care enough. But maybe this guy had more connections than you were giving him credit for. He had been one of your father’s clients, after all. (Actually, that wasn’t enough to determine whether or not Yang was smart or not. Resorting to your father’s ever-generous solutions was stupid; and you were very well-aware that that made you stupid, too.)

Your father had sent you to this office for something in particular.

“Yang Eunhyuk was an idiot and a half,” your father had told you the day you had come to him. “But he knows how to hide his things when he needs to.” He had carefully relayed all of the necessary information to you as the two of you sat on the couch together to outline your next steps and what exactly he was asking of you. “He owes me a compilation of files and a burner phone.”

When you’d asked what for, there was that gleam in his eyes as if he found the question amusing. “Well, to find out who betrayed us, of course.”

“To find who killed Mom?”

He had nodded at you��waved his hand flippantly. “Yes. That’s the same thing, Yn.”

A burner phone and a compilation of files. Your father had already searched Yang’s personal place of residence, but there had apparently been nothing but “shit." So here you were… sorting through more shit.

You drummed the pads of your fingers on the surface of the desk.

“Where would he hide you, hm?” You murmured to yourself. You tried all of the drawers under the desk—four of the seven came up locked. The top three drawers were all filled with a smorgasbord of knick knacks and junk like a fidget spinner, fidget cube, a package of cigarettes, and even a used gum wrapper. (Gross.) You slipped a lock pick out from your sleeve as you considered the remaining four locked drawers, then realized that Yang Eunhyuk might not have kept your father’s files in the same place as his regular, ol’ case files.

And so, you moved away from the desk.

You figured there were specific places a lawyer would keep their most sensitive files to ensure discretion and privacy. You recalled how your late employer, Lee Sungjae, often had his most precious files stashed away in a place that was so obvious that no one would ever assume any person in the right mind would hide such things. For Sungjae, it had been a picture frame on the wall of his office, the one with him and his entire family pictured. It was cute; but when one peered behind it…

There was only one picture frame in the entire office space. It was small and it housed his law degree. You wondered if it was phony.

You decided to give it a chance and reached for it with a gloved hand.

When you took the frame off the wall, a frown slipped onto your face at the solid wall behind it. Huh. It was worth a—

You stepped backward and inhaled sharply when your leg hit the back of his cheap office chair. You managed to right yourself, but your ears had also perked up at a curious sound. You swiftly replaced the frame on the wall and knelt down by the desk chair and twisted your body to peer beneath it.

The sound you had heard had been a soft swish. It was subtle and not at all loud, but thanks to the empty office and your own hearing, you had picked up on it. It was practically a miracle.

Your heart pounded in excitement as you stuck your hand beneath the chair and felt up the bottom. There—you felt a distinct, padded folder—and there—

Your fingers wrapped around a small device no bigger than the palm of your hand. It must have been attached to the bottom of the chair with some kind of tape, and you gave it a good yank. And behold… in your hand was the alleged burner phone, staring up at you, just begging for you to sneak a peek into its logs. But before you could, you removed the file that had been hidden beneath the chair as well. It was a standard manila folder stuffed to the brim with papers and, you assumed, lots of sensitive information. Your eyes were widening like your smile as you just struck gold.

Not too bad for your first time in a while.

You startled at the sound of a thump.

There was a figure, a shadow, standing on the window sill by the end of the desk. He was familiar to you with his dark hair and domino mask, and his red and black uniform. His cape flowed from just off the precipices of his shoulders and hung around the backs of his knees—imposing and regal but not in the way of any movements he made. The Red Robin had stood before you just earlier in the day at Lee Sungjae’s suburban home. He had been the one with the familiar presence to you, along with his… colleague? You didn’t know his and Nightwing’s association or relationship, but you weren’t about to interact long enough to find out.

“Breaking and entering is illegal, y’know,” the masked vigilante mused, and you could just make out the shadow of his smirk in the darkness. “Even at crime scenes.”

You rose from your spot on the floor, slipping the burner into the holster pocket on the garter around your thigh and tucking the file in the crook of your arm. There wasn’t really a place you could hide the chunky piece of shit. Despite your heart palpitating in your chest, you maintained a cool exterior. He didn’t know who you were, and you expected that he wouldn’t be able to recognize your voice since you had only spoken to him once.

“Nothing done in Gotham is illegal,” you replied to him.

His head cocked to the side, arms folding over his chest. “You’re not wrong about that. But…” He nodded at the file folder. “I really can’t let you leave with that.”

Oh, dear god. You needed an escape plan—and fast.

Nothing was coming to mind; it was just get out get out get out! (Very helpful, as always.)

“I’m sure you can make an exception for me,” you said with a mocking pout. “How’d you even know I was here? I didn’t realize Yang Eunhyuk had a connection to Gotham’s exclusive Bat Boys.”

A scoff from him. “He doesn’t. Your luck just happened to be running out, sweetheart.” He stepped off the window sill and entered the office, stalking toward you with slow, methodical steps because he knew you were cornered. You really should have tried that office door when you had the chance.

As you began backing away, you shook his head and tsked. “C’mon,” he coaxed. “Give me the folder.”

“And I can go?” You wondered how fast you could disappear once you flung yourself out of that window.

He smiled. “If you give me that burner, too, sure.”

Your heart stopped for a millisecond. God damn it.

He must have seen the doubt in your eyes, and that fucking smile of his widened. Something about that was tug-tug-tugging a nerve. He stopped walking toward you as you slowly made a move to set the file down on the floor. “Good girl.”

The file flopped onto the wooden floor.

"Slowly," he drawled, eyes glued to your form as he watched your hand move toward the holster pouch.

All the while, you were counting down in your head.

Before he could blink, you swung a leg out and kicked the file back behind Red Robin and toward the window. His head swerved in that direction, and you launched yourself at him before he could realize his mistake.

You kicked at him, one-two, adrenaline pumping through your veins like a virus. He blocked your blows, just as you swung around and made a grab for his mask.

He caught your wrist; you whirled—it was a high stakes tango you had not been prepared for. But you jabbed your elbow behind you, fist flying up toward his nose. Every move you made was desperate and offensive.

You slipped free and ducked, body curling under his arm, under his cape, until you ended up in the flurry of the dark fabric.

The vigilante knew his own cape though. You gave him that much.

He grabbed the opposite end and arced it over your head, arm coming down to wrap you in it—but you threw yourself out of it, landing a swift blow to his shin. Wouldn't do much except make him curse and loosen his grip slightly.

The file was in sight—oh god, it was right the fuck there.

You made a mad dash for it, leaning down slightly and reaching out with your hand—

"Not so fast, kitty—"

You hit the floor with a curse, palms flat against the wood. His foot had hooked around yours and tripped you, his knee set against your back like his own palm as he held you against the floor.

You felt his breath by your ear. "What's in the file, sweetheart?"

"None of your concern," you gritted out, then throwing your head back until you heard and felt that telltale "fuck!" from Red Robin.

You ignored the throbbing in the back of your skull to fling yourself around and throw off his balance again. Your hand dove into your holster pocket to retrieve the small cylinder of mace, then sprayed it in a final move of desperation, breath and chest heaving.

The man sputtered, hand flying up to his mouth as he stumbled backward and tried to eject the chemical from his body. "Dirty fucking move," he spat as you turned tail and made for the file.

Only—

"Looking for this?"

Two others had joined the party, to your absolute horror. Nightwing stood with the file in his hand, while Red Hood—the vigilante from the bank, and supposedly Choi Yeonjun based on your deductions—was perched up on the window sill with zero care in the world.

Well shit.

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permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @meosjinnn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @soonyoungblr @loveliestfelix @zhaixiaowen @justanotherkpopstanlol @w3bqrl @kangfication @fluorescentloves @haechansbbg @super-btstrash-posts @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @mars101 @rikizm

series taglist: @winterchimez @mosviqu @boba-beom @strawbrinkofdeath @baek-at-it-again95 @todosmash @loveforred @rocarecs @megseungmin

#txt x reader #choi yeonjun x reader #choi soobin x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #yeonjun x reader #soobin x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt oneshots #txt series #txt imagines #txt drabbles #txt scenarios #yeonjun oneshot #soobin oneshot #beomgyu oneshot #yeonjun imagines #soobin imagines #beomgyu imagines

[fandoms-writings]

Masterpiece

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: bartender!bucky x college!reader (age gap of 10-ish years)

Word count: a little over 8K (sorryyyyyyy)

Summary: you’ve been dating Bucky for a few months now, and it’s your final art show before you graduate, and he’s excited to see your final piece.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI Bucky (he needs his own warning in this one), pet names (sugar, baby, sir, daddy), alcohol and weed consumption, tiny bit of self doubt from Bucky but it doesn’t last long, he’s head over heels guys, smut at the end, like, detailed smut. If you don’t wish to read it, I’ve put a divider where it starts 😌 fingering, oral (f receiving), Bucky talks a lot in bed, unprotected sex (protect yourself irl please)

A/N: this is my first time like really writing smut so please bare with me but i hope you love it 🫶🏼

If you enjoy the story, please consider supporting me on my Ko-fi <3

Series Masterlist || Bucky Masterlist || Main Masterpost

Bucky adjusted the cuff of his sleeve around his wrist, fidgeting with the fabric as he glanced at the clock for the thousandth time in the past hour. 

He was meeting you at the final art show of your school before summer -it was your final show. You were graduating in just a couple weeks and he wanted to be by your side for all of it if you'd let him.

Though he didn't know anything about art - other than the fact that he loved watching you paint. You got this look on your face when you were focused and it was as if you were oblivious to anything else going on around you. The way your brows would just slightly crease in the middle as your eyes locked on to the colors you were working with or the canvas set on the easel. Sometimes the tip of your tongue would prod at your bottom lip or at the inside of your cheek while you decided what little details needed more of your attention. 

There had been countless nights of you working on your final pieces for this exhibit being put together by your professor where Bucky got the opportunity to keep you company. You liked to paint in the bar while he worked, using the paints he'd gotten for you for Christmas. He'd come around to the corner that everyone knew was now yours where he'd make you take a much needed break, usually getting you to listen if he had a small plate of food from Sam. You'd usually take that time to ask him what he thought of what you had so far, even though he wasn't sure how much of a help he actually was. 

Most of your paintings were of his regulars and every single one blew him away. But you never let him see the final piece, so he was excited to see tonight what you'd made. 

After clasping his watch around his wrist, Bucky took one last glance at himself in the mirror to make sure he looked alright. 

He hoped he wasn't over dressed in his suit, you hadn't told him exactly what kind of attire he should show up in, other than he needed to dress nice and that he should wear maroon. He'd had Natalia go with him to pick it out - he hadn't needed a suit in years so he didn't exactly have one ready. She'd helped him pick it out but now that he was looking at himself, it felt like too much. 

He wasn't really sure what you saw in him if he was being honest with himself. He was a little over a decade older than you and it showed. He'd started sporting more gray in his beard than he liked to admit and there were permanent wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. The smile lines and the frown lines both sunk a little deeper into his cheeks. He preferred a night in, reading a new book, over a night out. 

Maybe I should lose the tie? He thought as studied his appearance. 

He reached up to pull the fabric around his neck loose when there was a knock at the door. 

"Bucky!" Ana's voice filtered through the door, "Are you ready? We've gotta go if we're gonna catch the subway in time!" 

Pulling open his front door, he realized maybe he wasn't too overdressed. Ana was in a baby blue floor length, thin strapped dress with a slit up her thigh, though it didn't look too uncomfortable - in fact, it looked incredibly soft - and a pair of strappy heels. Her girlfriend, Val, was in a pair of pin striped pants, a black turtleneck, and a pair of nice white shoes to finish the look. 

"Oh don't you look nice!" Ana claimed after taking in his suit. 

"Really?" He asked, "I feel like it's too much." He looked again in the mirror by the door, tugging at the tie. "Should I forget the tie?" 

She pondered for a moment, looking him up and down, taking in the charcoal black slacks and matching coat, the maroon button up shirt and the black tie around his neck. 

"It depends," She started, "Do you want to look like a businessman? Or do you want to look like a sexy dilf?" 

"I, um, I don't know," He felt his face flush as he stuttered for an answer, "I just don't want to over do it." 

Ana smirked, "Loose the tie, bring the jacket, but don't wear it." 

He nodded before pulling the tie off and shucking the jacket, carrying it over his arm. He grabbed his keys and went to follow them out before Ana's hand popped up in front of his chest. 

"And undo the top button," She declared. "Actually, the top two." 

~

The outside of the building was rather plain in Bucky's opinion. The sunset was reflecting off of the large floor to ceiling windows that were framed in black, and he could see the exhibit all put together on the other side of the glass. 

There were already several people filling the space, but you'd told everyone you'd meet them outside. Bucky watched the crowd pass by on the sidewalk as Ana and Val discussed their plans for tomorrow night. 

He'd never been to something like this. Sure, he'd accompanied you to the art museum, but this was for you. He came to support you specifically and he felt like maybe something was missing now. 

Should I have brought flowers? A gift? He gnawed on the edge of his bottom lip as he looked around. Usually there were vendors out, selling little nick nacks or souvenirs. Really just anything to make a living. And among those was typically a flower cart. But as he looked around, the carts of random items were nowhere to be seen, packed and gone home for the night. 

He let out a disappointed sigh through his nose and turned his attention back to the door right as you walked out. 

His mind stopped working as he saw you, time freezing for him as he took you in. 

You were wearing a beautiful long sleeve dress with a shawl collar, its color split down the middle. The left side was a deep black, the right matching the same maroon as his dress shirt. The waist was cinched in just enough high on your waist to accentuate the curves you already had and the flared hem stopped just below your knees. There were black strappy heels on your feet and your hair was styled perfectly. And to top it off, you were wearing the simple rose gold necklace he'd seen you wear everywhere you went, the jewelry resting on its claimed spot of your collar. 

He didn't take another breath until your eyes landed on him and you gave him that amazing smile of yours, your lips lined in the same deep maroon. You weaved yourself around the people lingering at the front of the building until you stopped just short before him. The heels you were wearing gave you a little bit of height, but he was still taller than you by at least half a head. 

"Hi," You breathed it out as if the sight of him had stolen your breath too.

"Hi," He couldn't stop the corners of his lips from pulling up as he gazed down at you. "You look stunning." 

You didn't fight the grin that took over you as you muttered a 'thanks' and ducked your head. You reached for his arm, setting your hand against it as you looked back up at him, "You don't look too bad yourself." 

Ana clearing her throat had you two whipping your heads to her and Val, "While you do look amazing," She stated with a pointed finger at you, "It's getting chilly out so maybe we can take this love fest inside?" 

Bucky's cheeks flushed and he stifled his laugh as you tried to glare at your roommate while being obviously flustered that you'd walked right past her. You straightened your back and squared your shoulders. 

"Only because you asked so nicely," You bit back. The small venom in your words didn't hold any actual mal intent, and everyone in your group knew that as they laughed. Ana and Val lead the way, holding the door open for you and Bucky.

At the feeling of Bucky's hand resting on the small of your back, you glanced over your shoulder, giving him your small smile again before turning and leading him inside. 

The inside was dark, the walls a dark gray, almost black. Each art piece on display had a warm off-white spotlight shining on it. Bucky expected the space to be louder than it was, just by seeing how many people were here, but he was pleasantly surprised when everyone's conversations were mere murmurs and mumbles as you all passed by, most of them drowned out by the subtle music playing over the speakers.  

You took him on a tour around the gallery, arm in arm and pointing out pieces that were made by your friends. They were all wonderful and amazing pieces, but he really just wanted to see your stuff, but he remained patient while you were stopped by peers and professors from your college along the way, only speaking when you introduced him. This was your night, and he wasn't going to take that away from you by stealing conversations. He also didn't know much about art, only really about how much time and effort went into each piece - thanks to you and Steve - so he wasn't about to pretend he knew what he was talking about. 

Looking ahead to the direction you were leading him before you got stopped again, he could notice one of the paintings he'd watched you paint. You'd been sitting in your chair on the other side of your living room while he was watching a show - well, he was supposed to be watching a show, but he couldn't take his eyes off of you. 

"Bucky?" Your voice caught his attention again, along with a tug on his sleeve, and he looked over to you. You had a worried look on your face, but the girl who'd stopped you just a moment ago was still there. 

"What, sugar?" He asked. 

"If you're bored, you can go on ahead, it's okay," You were trying not to let too much of any emotion into your voice with how quiet you were being. Something about the way you said it made Bucky think he's not the first person you said that to. But who in their right mind would make you feel like you had to say that? Who would be so disinterested in you before him that now you had the instinct to tell him not to wait for you? It was unacceptable. 

"I'm perfectly fine where I am, don't worry about me," he grinned down at you, trying to ease the sudden anxiety coming off of you in waves. You smiled, letting your shoulder relax as you turned back to your friend Zoe, who could only help but smirk at the two of you. 

"Hey," she said, gaining both of your attention, "My roommates and I are having a small party to celebrate today, you should come. Both of you." 

"Oh, I'd love to, but," You turned to Bucky, "Don't you have to work?" 

"I do," He grinned, "But I can always take off early, meet you there. If you want?" 

"Who would close the bar?" 

"Hey, give Sam some credit, he knows how to close the bar on his own. He's a big boy." 

You laughed at that before turning to Zoe, "We'll be there." 

You went your separate ways, linking your arm with Bucky's and leading him down the hall where your artwork was on display. "You sure you want to party with a bunch of youngsters, old man?" You leaned in and asked, earning a laugh from him before he sighed. 

"Oh, I don't know. I may have doomed myself, huh?" 

"Mhm, probably." You hummed with a giggle before turning him to an open room with statues in the middle, your pieces lining the walls on the other side. 

You knew the second he saw it, almost as soon as you walked in, because he took in a sharp breath, eyes locked on the other side of the room. 

"Whoa," He breathed out, hesitating to take another step closer. Your nerves grew with his sudden change of movements and you couldn't help but squeeze his elbow. 

"You like it?" You asked, and he must've sensed your worries through your voice because he whipped his head to you. 

"This is incredible," He said while pointing at it. 

It was a combination of different sized canvases all painted in his bar, placed strategically across the whole wall. Each one contained a different scene, but they were manipulated just enough to where if you stood at the right angle, they created one large picture. All of his regulars, your friends, his friends who worked with him, all there. In the center was him, with a cocktail shaker in his hands and a smile on his face. 

"What was your theme for this?" He asked, finally walking closer to see all of his favorite faces on the wall. 

"I chose community, family, a support system," You explained, "And you have such a strong one, I couldn't help it." 

"You missed someone, though," He said, his voice dropping in disappointment and you couldn't help it when the smile on your lips fell. 

"What? What do you mean?" You looked from him to the wall, searching the faces for who was missing. You were there often enough that you knew everyone who was a regular. You knew. There was no way you missed anyone. 

"You," He looked at you with an exaggerated pout, "You're not in here." 

You couldn't help the coo that you let slip from your lips and you held in a laugh, "Aw, I'm sorry. I'll have to paint one and fit me in somewhere." 

He smiled at that, "I know where you can go." 

"Oh yeah? Where's that?" You asked as he pulled you close with one hand and looking at the painting, pointed to a spot with his other. 

"Right next to me." 

~

"Bucky!" You called out as you padded down the driveway straight for him. You'd exchanged the dress and heels from earlier for a more comfortable outfit, joggers covering your legs and a loose long sleeved shirt keeping you warm. 

He braced himself, steadying his feet and holding out his arms before you crashed into him. Your giggles flooded his ears as he stumbled backward but held on tight to you, keeping you both from toppling to the ground. 

"Hi, sugar," He chuckled into your hair. You smelled like weed and beer and he could only imagine what he'd been missing as you squoze him to death. You nuzzled your nose into his neck, inhaling and getting one more squeeze in before you pulled away. 

"You always smell so good," You had a half pout on your face as you pulled back, "It's not fair." 

He let out a hearty laugh at that, "How's it not fair?" 

"Because I know there are girls out there that see you at the bar and then get a whiff of your cologne and a look at your face and then they want you, but they can't have you, cause you're mine," You rambled and he laughed, doing his best to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat at you calling him yours. 

"I still don't understand how it's not fair to you, but alright." 

"It's not fair because I wanna smell like you all the time," You mumbled before turning and tugging him toward the house. 

"You know all you have to do is ask and that can be arranged, right?" He asked, watching you walk in front of him.You peaked over your shoulder at him with an amused but curious look in your eyes and he smiled. "It's kind of a perk to, ya know, dating me. If you ask, I'll give you anything." 

"Anything, huh?" You cheekily asked as you opened the door to the house, the music spilling out into the garage as you led him inside. 

"Don't make me regret saying that," he chuckled. 

You led him to the kitchen, getting him a drink that you made incredibly strong. To get him caught up is what you claimed it was for. Though by the way your eyes were rimmed red, he'd be right to assume you were more stoned than you were drunk. 

He thought that he'd stand out too much at this party, being a decade older than pretty much everyone there, but all of your college friends were good about including him. Inviting him to play drinking games, roping him into conversations he actually enjoyed, and even offering him what you'd smoked. He'd taken a couple small hits, but he wanted to be able to drive you home later so he kept it light. He'd actually driven for you, and he never really pulled his car out of the garage - it was easier to walk the city. 

He liked being here with you, even if you were on the other side of the room, dancing your heart out with your friends. He got to sit back and watch, reveling in the warmth that spread through his chest - whether it be from the small amount of liquor or from seeing you so happy he wasn't sure - but he'd welcome it regardless. 

He loved seeing you so carefree. Usually, you constantly had your head in your paints and pencils, working on your next piece. And he was so proud of you, don't get him wrong, but he was glad you were letting yourself go, even if it was just for the night. He was sure you'd be right back to it tomorrow - well, maybe in a couple days, he was sure you'd probably have a killer hangover in the morning. 

The music changed and he watched as you stole the blunt from Zoe - though she was too preoccupied to really notice. You waltzed over to him, taking a long drag and then holding it out for him, but he declined and you passed it onto the next person before you placed yourself on his knee, wrapping your arms around his neck. He wrapped his free hand around you back, holding you steady as you nuzzled into his neck again. 

"You look good out there, sugar," He muttered so only you would hear, not that anyone here was in their right mind enough to pay attention to the two of you. 

"Mm, it was a good song," You mumbled, raking your fingers through his hair. He'd wanted to cut it a few weeks ago, but you gave him those puppy eyes of yours, claiming that you liked to play with it and tug on it. And who was he to take that from you? So he let it keep growing, and even though he didn't really enjoy having to actually try to get it to lay right, the feeling of your fingers running through it was more than worth it. 

"You ready to get going? Or did you wanna stay longer?" He asked, shifting so he could press his lips to the side of your face. 

You hummed in thought before you slightly pulled away, just enough to get a look at him. 

"What're we going to do when we get home?" You asked and his heart jumped at your words. He loved when you called it home. You still were across the hall, but you were over so often, your things littering his space, it was basically your home too. He loved it. 

"Whatever you want to do," He whispered against your lips before gently closing the distance for a quick kiss, tasting the weed and alcohol on your tongue. 

"Anything?" You asked, and if the way your fingers tightened on his hair didn't tell him what you wanted, the fiery look in your eyes sure did - the sparks there igniting the fire in his own body. 

"I said anything, didn't I?" He asked with a smirk and you smiled, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. 

"We should get going then," You muttered before placing a heated kiss upon his lips. It only lasted a moment before you jumped up from his lap and he leaned to try to keep your lips on his. "Let me say bye first, kay?"

"Alright, sugar, I'll be here when you're ready." He watched you saunter off to your friends, getting lost in the crowd as he adjusted his suddenly too tight pants. 

"Isn't she a little young for you?" A voice asked to Bucky's left and he turned his head with a scowl on his face. 

"I'm sorry, who are you?" He asked. The man - boy, really - next to him smirked. 

"Name's Flash," He cockily said, his nose tipped up in the air. 

"What's it to you?" Bucky asked, taking the last swig of his beer, and setting down the bottle a little harder than he meant to. 

"Well, shouldn't she be with someone a little more her age?" Flash asked and Bucky huffed a laugh before standing to his full height, watching as Flash's eyes widened once he towered over the boy. 

"Maybe she would be if boys your age knew how to treat her." He turned at the sound of your voice getting close and found you trotting up to him. 

"Ready?" You asked, a large smile on your face. He smiled, leaning down, pulling you into a dizzying kiss. You let out the tiniest whine and he smiled against your lips before backing away. He peaked over his shoulder at Flash whose face was red as a cherry. 

"I'm ready, sugar. Let's go home," He turned back to you, offering his elbow for you to take, reveling in the feeling of your delicate grasp on his skin. 

Regardless of how he handled that situation, he couldn't help but think about his thoughts earlier that day. What did you see in him? 

He glanced at you, walking beside him to his car. You were rambling about something, but in your drug induced state, not much of it made sense to him. He helped you into the passenger seat before making his way around the front to climb in the driver's side. When he got the car started, he noticed you'd gone quiet and you were staring at him, your lids half closed in your relaxed demeanor. 

He chuckled and started the car, "What're you lookin at?" 

"You," You drawled out, reaching over to wrap your hand around his bicep and laying your head there, never looking away. 

"What're you doin that for, huh?" He looked to the road, pulling out of the parking spot and starting the way home. Your fingers trailed across his chest, leaving a trail of sparks in their wake that crawled throughout his entire body. 

"Cause I can, and I like lookin' at you," You lazily slurred, pressing your lips to the skin of his arm. "You're handsome," You muttered into his skin before tilting your head up again, "and sexy." 

"Mm, I'm not too old for you?" He asked, keeping his tone light. He knew you'd already talked about this exact thing, back during christmas, but Flash's comment was seared in his head. 

You sat up, your brows scrunched as your intense gaze burned a hole in the side of his face. 

"What did Flash say to you?" You demanded and he couldn't help the upward movement of his brows. 

"How did you know?" He asked, stopping at the red light and turning to you, the red glow against your skin making you look ethereal in your sudden frustration. 

"Because he's an asshole and can't keep his mouth shut or his opinions to himself." You stated, "What did he say?"

He sighed, looking to the road, watching the light. "He made a comment about how you're too young for me." 

The light turned green and he slowly went through the intersection as you sighed. 

"If you were too old for me, I wouldn't be with you," You stated. He glanced between you and the road, seeing nothing but sincerity in your face and he smiled. 

"Yeah?" He asked, "You aren't scared of being seen with an old man like me?" 

You laughed at that, "You aren't that old!" 

"Oh, c'mon! I've got gray hairs already!" He laughed back, getting more giggles from you in return. 

"I like the gray hairs!" You collected yourself before leaning in, your hand on his leg making him jump and almost swerve the car. Your lips brushed against his ear as your fingers moved along his thigh, getting dangerously close to where he really wanted you earlier. "Plus, you actually know what you're doing when you fuck me." 

He swallowed as he tilted his head to make room for your lips on his neck. You weren't usually this forward, but oh man was he loving it. 

"If you don't stop, I'm gonna have to pull the car over and deal with you in the back seat," He gruffly muttered as you lips sucked on that spot on his neck. 

"Mm," you let go of his neck, "Maybe I want you to." He stopped at the next red light and turned to face you, seeing that spark from earlier back in your eyes and he groaned. 

"You're gonna be the death of me, ya know that?"

You giggled and bit your lip, dragging your teeth in the enticing way that you do and he knew he was done for.

"You did say we could do anything I wanted," You whispered, your hand squeezing his thigh again and he shook his head. 

"I did say that, didn't I?" He laughed at your giggle and when the glow against your skin turned green he took off. 

"How about, if you're good till we get home, I'll do that thing you like," He suggested, noticing how your thighs clenched in your seat and your hand tightened around his leg again. He took a glance at you to see all teasing gone from your features and he knew he had you. 

You silently watched him from your seat, eyes darting over his features to see if he was just toying with you. When he got to the next light and stopped, he turned to you again. 

"Well? You gonna be good, sugar?"

The second he got the door open, Bucky pulled you inside, closing the door and locking it as he pressed you against it, molding your lips together. 

With the promise of doing what you loved, you held yourself together on the way home and you were good, so he was going to keep his end of the deal. 

He threw his keys to the counter, hoping they didn't knock anything down as one of his hands gripped the side of your neck and his other wrapped around your waist. He dragged his teeth along your bottom lip, pulling a whine from your throat as he did so and he couldn't help the groan that shook his chest. 

He let go of your neck, tapping your butt with his hands, telling you to jump. You'd done this dance so many times it was like second nature catching your legs and wrapping them around his waist so he could take you to the bed. You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging on the strands as he walked you to the bed, gently laying you down. He untangled your legs from around him and tried to pull himself away from your grasp, chuckling at your whines of protest. 

"Hold on, sugar," He muttered against your lips before you finally let him go. He stood, bringing each of your legs up so he could pull off your shoes, throwing them to the corner of the room. He felt you tug on the hem of his shirt and he smirked at you. "C'mon now, you know the rules." 

You put on a fake pout and tugged on it again, "Come back." 

He grinned at you, "How do good girls ask?" You narrowed your eyes at him before quickly sitting up to grab his collar, pulling him back down with you and pressing your lips to his again. 

"Please," You whispered in his mouth and he couldn't help the chuckle he let out, getting a giggle from you in return. 

"You're a brat," he said into your skin as he moved to your neck, dragging his lips across the spot where your neck met your shoulder, another sinful whine filling his ears, driving him mad. 

"You like it though," Came your breathy reply. He sat up, holding the hem of your shirt and looking at your face. You were already gone, lost in the moment and he tugged on the fabric to gain your attention. 

"Can I?" He asked and you rolled your eyes, a lazy smile growing on your swollen lips. 

"You know you don't have to ask, anymore," You claimed as you arched your back to help him take your shirt off. 

"I know, but it's the gentlemanly thing to do," he leaned down, tracing kisses down your sternum, and nipping at the flesh of each of your breasts. He reached behind you, pinching the clasp of your bra to open it, pulling it forward and dragging the straps down your arms before tossing it anywhere else. 

"I don't know why you wear that thing," he muttered, moving from one to the other, his breath leaving a hot trail across your skin. He watched as your skin prickled with goosebumps and he couldn't stop the smile that grew on his face, "It can't be comfortable." 

You giggled when he dragged his scruff across your side, "I'm not explaining it again."

"Fine," he softly bit down on your hip, "keep my girls locked up and away from me, why don't you?" 

"Your girls?" You asked, lifting your head to look at him and whining when he looked up at you through his lashes, refusing to let go of your skin before he was sure there would be a mark there in the morning.

"Yeah, my girls," He declared, reaching up with his left hand to gently squeeze your breast, "They're mine, aren't they?" He reached around your leg with his other hand and grabbed your thigh, giving it a squeeze before he crawled back up to you. 

Your hands came up from the bed and tugged his shirt up, ignoring his question. He sat back, pulling the offending fabric over his head and he went to throw it but remembered earlier and he looked at you before holding it out to you. 

"You like how I smell right?" He asked, and at your shy nod, he set the shirt against your skin, "You keep that, and when it doesn't smell like me anymore, I'll give you a new one. How's that sound?" 

You giggled at him, shaking your head but gently pulling it to hide your face, "Okay." 

"You can't use it to hide from me though," he pulled it from your face, crowding you again and dragging his nose across your cheek, "That's not fair." 

You leaned up, pulling his lips down to yours and tossing the shirt to the side. He rested the weight of his hips on you and groaned when you thrusted up, pressing on him in the best way. 

"You owe me," You whispered against his lips and he chuckled. 

"I know, sugar, I promised, didn't I?" He pulled back, sliding his fingers into the waistband of your joggers, "Have I ever broken a promise to you?" 

You shook your head as you leaned up on your elbows, watching as he leaned down and traced the lines of your legs with his mouth, following the descending pants. Once he threw those god knows where on the floor - he'd find them for you in the morning - he shuffled so he could lay between your legs, pressing an open mouth kiss to your clit through your panties. A groan shook through you as your hips tried to follow him when he pulled back. 

"Don't tease me like that," You pouted with a whine, "I was good for you." 

"I know you were," he said the words into the little amount of fabric still covering you, letting his warm breath fan across, driving a shiver up your spine. "You were so good for me, weren't you?" 

You nodded, biting your lip as you watched him, eyes following his fingers as they slipped between you and the fabric before he pulled it back and let it gently snap back at you. When your narrowed eyes snapped to him, he let out a laugh before finally doing what you wanted. 

Once he had that out of the way, he resettled between your legs, wrapping his hands around your thighs and glanced down, a smile growing on his face before he looked up at you again. 

"All this for me?" He asked, leaning his head closer, but when you didn't respond, he froze, his mouth hovering over you, watching you. "Sugar," he drawled, knowing you weren't too far gone to have forgotten the rules - not yet. 

He started this little rule with you when he found out how shy you could get in bed. You'd never been with someone as vocal as he was, and you'd come up with this rule together that if he asked you something, you had to reply.

Huffing a breath out, you finally responded, your voice barely there, "Yes." 

"Good girl," He smirked before dragging his tongue through your folds, groaning when the taste of you hit his tongue. He watched as your jaw went slack when he got to the top, latched his lips around your bundle of nerves and gave it the tiniest suck. A low groan crawled it's way out of your throat as he refused to look anywhere but at you. 

He only pulled his tongue off you for a moment, to angle himself back down before this time fully attaching himself to you, burying himself in you. He held your thighs, gripping them as they tried to flex around his head. Normally, he'd be perfectly fine with it, having your legs wrapped around his head, but he wanted tonight he wanted to hear you. 

It was like this room became his church, you were his deity, and your moans and cries were the choir, reverberating off the walls and flooding his senses as he recited his prayers between your legs. 

He noticed your arms shaking from holding yourself up and released one of your legs, reaching up to press the palm of his hand against your chest, gently pushing you down. "Relax, sugar, let me take care of you, yeah?" He muttered against your folds, groaning into you when you whined, pressing your hips into him. 

He could stay there forever, with your legs over his shoulders, his tongue playing with your center, the taste and sound and smell of you completely taking him over. Your fingers found their place in his hair once again and tugged on the strands, earning another groan from him as he buried it between your fold, sending the vibrations through you. 

He adjusted his arm over you to lay across your stomach, holding your hips down as his other one released your thigh and moved to join his mouth, his fingers prodding at your entrance before sinking into you with ease. 

The gasp you let out made him dizzy as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out, slowly dragging the pads of his middle and ring fingers along your walls, in search of that spot. 

He knew he found it once you mewled out his name, oh James, and he felt the spongy spot, pressing down on it, your legs clamping around his head. It's not like you didn't call him James in other situations, but there was something about the way you sang it here, in his bed, that made a shiver run through his spine, the ego boost it carried going straight to his head. 

“Right there, sugar?” He smirked against your skin, not giving you a moment to respond before he reattached his mouth to you, pumping his fingers in time with his tongue rolling against your clit, the pads of his two fingers brushing against that spot over and over and over. 

Spurred on by your chants of oh god, right there James, please, please don’t stop, he worked in tandem with the rhythm your hips had chosen. He knew you were close by the way your walls fluttered around his knuckles and the certain way you scratched his arm as it held your hips stiller than you wanted them. 

Without removing his fingers, he pulled his lips off of you, releasing your hips and reaching to catch your hands, holding them both to your stomach as he pulled himself up just enough to be above your chest. You were watching him with glazed over eyes, your lips parted and your chest heaving as he leaned his head down to catch one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking on it before grazing his teeth over it. You whined when he released it, but immediately let out a loud moan when he caught the other one, doing the same thing to it. 

"James," you gasped out, "I'm close." 

"Oh sugar, I know. I can feel your walls fluttering," He said as he leaned up to hover his mouth over yours, "Do you wanna cum on my fingers and my tongue, or do you wanna cum on my cock, hm?" He knew you hated when he made you choose like this, as if your brain was clear enough to make a decision. You did your best to look angry at him, but with the way his fingers were moving in and out of you, you couldn't keep the facade up longer than a moment before you moaned again. 

"C'mon, sugar, tell me," His lips brushed against your lips, "Tell me what you want." 

Your panting breaths were fanning against his lips as you fought off your climax, finally giving him an answer. "I want both," You mewled out. 

"Both?" He asked as he moved back down, "You're greedy tonight, aren't you?" 

He didn't know where it came from, the name that rang in his ears, nor did he expect it to have the effect on him that it did. But when the words please, daddy fell from your lips like a prayer - a prayer only he could answer - his brain short circuited. 

You'd never called him that before - hell, he'd never been called that before but by the way he was now painfully erect and he was having trouble holding himself back - he wanted to see what other names he could pull from you. What else would you call him while so lost in what he was doing to you that you didn't even notice what you'd let slip. 

"Fuck. Say that again," He gruffly demanded, holding himself above your core.

It was the fact that you didn't even hesitate before please daddy, don't stop, fell from your lips that had him devouring you like he was a starving man, replacing his fingers with his tongue. You tried to snap your legs around his head but he wrapped his arms around the backs of your thighs to hold them open. 

It wasn't long before he had you falling apart on his tongue with a shout of his name, drinking down everything you had to offer and helping you ride out your orgasm before he finally let you go. He crawled his way up your body, dragging his lips across your stomach, your ribs, your breasts, leaving a wet trail up until he reached your mouth, crashing his lips to yours. 

Your hands flew up to grab his face, pulling him as close as you could get him. He prodded your lips with his tongue, all but begging for entry. When you granted it to him and tasted yourself on him, you let out a long whine. 

Your hands left his face and reached for his belt, tugging on the leather strap. He chuckled at you, "So impatient," before he stood from the bed and finished pulling his layers off.

Reaching for your legs, he made sure he had a good grip on you before slowly pulling you to the edge of the bed where he rested the underside of his cock against your soaked folds, groaning with his head thrown back as you reached up to drag your nails down the skin of his chest. 

Bringing his head back down, he pulled your legs up, wrapping them around his waist, as he told you to be good and hold them there. Your legs were shaking in protest, but you did as he asked, bringing a smirk to his face as he reached for the side of your neck, stroking your cheek with his thumb before grinding himself down on you. 

He watched your eyes flutter as you fought to keep them open, trying to keep your eyes on him as he stroked himself over you, the head brushing against your clit. 

"Don't tease me," You whined out, your grabbing hands growing more desperate to get more of him touching you. You just wanted to feel his skin on yours, in any way he'd offer it. "Please."

He gave the side of your neck the smallest squeeze, watching as you reveled in the pressure, your eyes almost completely closing. "Please what?" 

He thought you were going to respond with the same name from earlier, he was silently praying for it to tumble from your lips again, but what you said was so much better. 

"Please, sir," You all but cried for him and he couldn't ignore the neediness in your voice, even if he wanted to take a minute to just bask in your attention and the names you called him. 

"I got you, baby," He said, pulling away from you just enough to angle himself at your entrance, holding himself back from slamming into you in one go. He knew how sensitive you could get and wanted to make sure you would be okay before he had his way with you. 

"Oh, sugar," he groaned out, squeezing your neck again, "You're always so warm." His breath faltered when you raised your hips, pushing him further into you. Your legs tightened around his hips, pulling him even deeper and he let go of your neck, moving to feel any of your skin he could reach, squeezing everything he could in his hands as he slowly started pumping in and out.

You sighed, finally having the friction you needed, dropping your hands to where his had stopped on your hips. He collected your hands in his own, bringing them together over your stomach and holding both of them in his left while his right one reached down, this thumb pressing slow circles of your clit and earning a sinful moan from you. 

God, he loved being in you, but he wanted more - needed more. He brought your hands over your head, pinning them to the mattress as he crawled over you, angling your hips up to rest on his thighs, going as deep as he could - and by the sounds that escaped your throat, he could tell he was in the perfect spot for you. 

He rocked into you, finding the rhythm that made you cock-drunk and hitting that little spot for you every time. Your pleas filled his head please, right there, oh god right there, don't stop and he swore he could get off on your voice alone as it sang for him. 

He released your hands, grabbing both of your hips to pull them to meet his thrusts, refusing to take his eyes off of you as you cried out for him, each of his thrust earning a louder and louder cry. He would watch you like this all day if the world let him, it was one of his favorite views. But there was one more that he loved just a little bit more. 

He slowed down, slowly dragging himself through your walls and you whined again, moving to reach for him but his voice stopped you. 

"You wanna ride me, sugar?" He asked, smirking when your eyes flew open with determination. He knew you loved it as much as he did when you rode him - possibly even more if he was being honest. 

You nodded your head, wincing when he pulled out of you to crawl up the bed, resting his back against the pillows in front of the headboard. Holding his hands out for you, he helped keep you steady as you took your place over him, sinking back down on to him, the gasp you let out making him twitch in you. 

"C'mon, baby, I wanna see you cum again," He said, releasing your hands once you were fully seated and moving to hold your hips again. Your hands grasped at his chest, scratching his skin as you began to rock yourself. 

It only took a second for you to find your rhythm, your fingers moving along his skin up to his hair and pulling him up to your neck where he sucked on the skin there. He wrapped one of his arms around your back, holding you to him as the noises you let out made him dizzy with need. 

"Jamie, please," You panted, pulling his head back and he knew what you were asking for. He nodded, leaning back and planting his feet on the mattress before thrusting up, meeting your own movements at the perfect angle. 

Your hands landed on his stomach to hold yourself up as he held your hips, pulling you down on to him. He knew you were close again by the pitch of your moans and moved his thumb to stroke your clit again. 

"C'mon baby, give it to me, let me see it," He urged you on and you shook your head, refusing to stop. 

"You first," You squeaked out and he smirked. 

"I'm right behind you, I promise," He moaned, squeezing your hip when you slightly changed the angle, the pressure low in his belly growing and growing. 

"Let go for me, please sugar, let go," he begged, putting just enough pressure behind his thumb to drive you over the edge. 

You cried out as you fell forward, barely catching yourself and it only took him one, two, three more thrusts with your walls fluttering around him for him to follow you over that edge, the white hot pleasure flooding his system as he wrapped his arms around you and held you to him in a death grip. 

Neither of you moved for a while after, catching your breath as your muscles spasmed before relaxing. When he finally calmed down, he reached his hand up to rest on your head and you nuzzled into his neck. He turned his head as much as he could to place his lips against your temple, whispering promises of a love he never intended on breaking. 

The feeling of your lips against his skin stretching into a smile made him sigh, but it was the returned promise of I love you too, Jamie that stole his breath away. 

The warmth that spread through his chest was a welcome one, and he knew that no matter how many times you told him that, his heart would always have that same reaction. 

And he couldn't wait to feel it again. 

As always, thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated <3

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[ashisgreedy]

Garreth Weasley x F!MC

Professor Garreth AU

“A Potion Of You.” 

Tags: Spicy 18+ | First Date | Making out | Heavy petting | Fingering | F!Orgasm | Hickies | All chars are aged up 21+ish. WC: 7,100

-18 Minors, do not interact with my blog/content.

A|N: In chapter 1, Garreth is introduced as a professor at Hogwarts after not seeing the MC for many years. He proceeds to get outed as having a crush on her when they were in school and his feelings are reciprocated by the MC. He asks her out on a date. Chapter 2 is their date!

| Ch. 1 |

Chapter 2 

Entering the castle after all of these years was a shock of nostalgia. The corridors all seemed so familiar yet she’s been gone so long, she knew she couldn't have made her way around by memory anymore.  She knocked lightly on the solid wooden door of Garreth’s classroom. She was unsure if it was the correct room but the surrounding stack of caldrons made her more confident she was in the right place.

She didn't have to wait long before the door swung open to the Potions Classroom, Garreth greeting her with a large smile. Seeing him was also a mix of nostalgia as well, laced with a hint of unfamiliarity. There was a time, long ago, when she knew every single thing about him. 

“Hey! Come on in.” He welcomed her warmly. Garreth’s hair was styled like it always had been. His curl pattern and the way his hair grew must not have been open to many different types of styling. 

“Hello, good evening.” She greeted him sweetly. 

Her day had seemed to drag by so slowly making her nerves stand on end. It was almost surreal being here with him now in his classroom, finally. She wondered all day what the date would be like, what he would be like. Would they still banter like they used to? Could being romantically entangled complicate things in a way neither of them could have imagined? She hoped things would go smoothly at least. As teens, they always clicked together effortlessly. Hopefully, not much has changed despite the years of maturity between them. 

He was dressed a bit nicer than the night before at the bar. He was wearing a maroon vest with gold buttons and trim. His top was a light cream and his slacks were a dark shade of charcoal grey. He looked great and so put together. He never lacked in the fashion department when they were teens but it was nice to see him trying a bit more for her, for their date. She shook her head internally at the thought, still in disbelief that she was on a date with the guy she had the biggest and longest-running crush on in history. 

“I’m happy to see you again.” He said, giving her a quick look over. “You look amazing.” He blew out air from his lungs in a rush and rubbed the back of his head. “I mean to say, you look very beautiful.” 

Her stomach flopped at his compliment. “Thank you.” She took a moment to rake her eyes over him. “You’re not so bad yourself.” She shot him a playful smile. That was an understatement. He looked downright hot. This man had only gotten better with age. He was filled out, broader, and his legs were a good deal longer. His arms were way more muscular than she had ever seen them. She wondered if he worked out or if the simple task of carrying heavy objects around his classroom got him so into shape. She imagined he may carry many heavy stacked cauldrons and crates of supplies to and fro, arms flexing as he did. 

“Why, thank you.” He beamed. “I just have to grab my keys and we can be off!” His energy was still very much the same albeit a bit more toned down. Garreth still looked like he’d be up for any spontaneous adventure. His eyes glittered in the room light before he tore his gaze away to grab his set of keys. 

She had missed those deep emerald eyes of his that used to be such a comfort to see on even the most stressful of days. She missed his red fluffy hair that she used to throw tiny bits of balled-up paper in that he, of course, never realized it was her doing. (She should confess that to him soon…)  Hell, she missed him and his antics and his jokes and his laugh. They were always chatting and planning something back in school. Their conversation always flowed like water down a stream, it was as easy as breathing. She wondered how their adult conversations would go.

They both had nervous jitters that bounced around the room. It was a strange combination of feeling the familiarity of an old friend while also being somewhat strangers. It didn’t help her nerves being so open about being attracted to said friend. And, of course, going on a date. A date with many possible implications that she refused to allow herself to think about all day. She blushed and made her way back out the door from where she had just come. 

What if it did work out? What then? One of them would have to leave the adult life they built. One of them being her, of course, she would never ask Garreth to leave his job as a professor here at Hogwarts. It would make her sick to her stomach to even ask him to quit so he could come live with her in her hamlet many hours away doing menial tasks to stay afloat.  She supposed she wouldn’t mind leaving her life behind, but she was getting ahead of herself. The date hadn’t even started yet. She would just have to go with the flow and have fun with it. 

“I brought my appetite like you asked.” She assured him. Garreth sent her an owl early that morning with a bit of banter and a hint to wear warm clothes for their date. It also told her to stop snacking at 4 to be hungry enough for what he had planned. She read the letter six or seven times just to study his neat handwriting. The way he wrote her name with an extra flourish made her heart swell. 

“Fantastic!” He closed the door, locking it with one of the larger keys on the ring. “I don’t want to spoil too much of the surprise, but we will definitely have lots of food options tonight.” 

“What’s such a surprise about eating dinner together?” 

Garreth sent her a charming smile and offered her his arm. She took it, linking her arm in his as they walked down the long corridor.

“You will see soon enough.” 

She wondered if his cheeks were going to be sore from smiling so much. She touched her own face realizing she may be facing the same issue later. They walked arm in arm, their steps, and easy chatter filling the halls. 

Gareth took her to a small balcony high in the Hogwarts castle. It looked so familiar to her but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. But, oh wow, was it an incredible view. It was akin to something she would only be able to see flying on her broom. Rolling hills in the distance, glowing just a bit with the last remaining rays of the setting sun. The black lake below looked massive from where they stood. Its waters were calm and it reflected the hills behind it like a mirror.

A small circular table sat in the middle of the balcony. A white tablecloth draped to the ground and the centerpiece was decorated with a red flower and two floating candles. Two empty plates were set out across from each other, chairs angled slightly toward the view. 

“Wow, it’s lovely.” She took in the romantic scene. Her heart squeezed at the effort he’d put in. She stepped toward the table with a huge grin. 

Garreth laughed. “I may have gotten some advice on what kind of date to take you on. I told my colleagues I couldn’t grab drinks with them because I had a special date.”  He enunciated the T in ‘date’ and winked. He pulled out the chair for her and waited for her to sit. 

“Do you grab drinks with your fellow professors often?” She unfolded the napkin on the table and placed it on her lap. Garreth took his seat across from her and relaxed back into the chair. He eyed the scenery then slid his gaze back to her.  

“Sometimes. I guess it's been more often lately since the cool weather rolled in.” He rubbed his hands together and searched the table for something. “I think a lot of people get lonely this time of year.” 

“Did they give you any good advice for our first date?” She teased. 

The floating candles were enchanted, giving off a whole fireplace's worth of warmth. It made it bearable to stay outdoors in the winter, but she was still grateful for the long coat she wore that covered her skirt. Garreth found what he was looking for, a tiny brass bell. He rang it and sat it off to the side. 

“A bit. Only one bit of advice was useful though.” He gestured at the view. “The divination professor told me to pick a spot that held meaning for both of us. I don’t think I’ve been to this side of the castle in a while. I wouldn’t have thought about it again if she hadn’t said anything.” 

“Special meaning?” Her brows knitted together. She searched her mind for answers but came up blank. This scenery would be hard to forget, but it was possible it was already culled from her mind after all these years.

Garreth nodded, looking around the balcony. “This is where we used to come to sneak out to during 6th and 7th year when I made those series of… concoctions. The ones that I hoped would get us either drunk or experience a unique buzz.” 

It all rushed back to her in an instant. She recalled Garreth pulling out vile after vile of different potions he’d made and dropped them all on the balcony for them to sift through. They’d drink a vile then eat some candy they’d gotten from Hogsmeade and just talk and laugh. Sometimes they’d play games, most of which Garreth had come up with on the spot. Some, they would modify to turn them into drinking games. She didn’t recall ever taking in the view like she was now. It must have paled in comparison to the company she shared. 

“Damn,” She began. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize this place! Remember the time you drank two potions back to back and your skin ended up turning purple?” She began to laugh and Garreth feigned annoyance. 

“Yes well, I remember when you used to force me to drink all the newest concoctions because you were too scared to be my guinea pig. That’s why my face turned purple! I could never say no to you.” He shook his head with a grin. “I guess you know why now.” He shot her a playful wink.

“What would you rather have had me do? I couldn’t walk around school with purple skin.” 

“It’s not like I wanted all those strange stares either.” He crossed his arms, a huge smile across his face.” 

“Well, you are the one that made them. It’s only fair that you are the one that tested them too.” 

“I was just happy to be hanging out with you. It was always worth it to have double vision for a few hours or even purple skin.” 

They smiled at one another for a long moment. Now that the conversation easily flowed, she felt more comfortable in his presence. 

“Oh, and you mentioned you spoke with the divination professor? Did she predict our date would go well?” She smirked, raising a questioning brow. 

Garreth laughed then shook his head. “I didn’t ask.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“Okay fine! I asked!” He put his hands up in defense, a huge smile still on his face. “ But she wouldn't tell me. She just said ‘Have fun.’ and shut the door on my face.” 

“You poor thing.”

“Yes, feel sorry for me.” He teased.

She admonished him and rolled her eyes. It was fun, how easily she could flirt with him. It was welcoming, almost like no time had passed. 

A bell chimed sounding the same as the one Garreth had rang moments ago. 

“Lean back.” He directed, leaning back in his own chair.

She removed her arms from the table and relaxed back. Out of thin air, food appeared on the plate in front of her. Several sides populated the outskirts of the plate while the middled filled an entre. The huge mug to her right began to fill to the brim with a fizzing liquid.

“This looks absolutely delicious.” She breathed in the new smells that permeated the balcony. The effervescent drink bubbled as she took a small sip. The cider warmed her from the inside. 

Garreth was quiet for a long moment before he spoke. “I’m glad you like it. Just so you know, we can ring this bell and more food will be brought out. Each time we ring it, a new dish will be served.”

“Is this with the help of the kitchen elves?”

“Yes, the concept is similar to how they fill the dining hall for every meal. Pretty neat, huh?”

“Very neat!” She looked up and met Garreth’s gaze. “Garreth, I really do like this.” She spoke quietly. Understanding washed over his features. He kept eye contact with her, appreciating the moment. “I like everything about this night. The food is perfect, the view is incredible, and having dinner on this balcony was a marvelous idea.” Garreth’s smile grew as she spoke. “But most of all, I like the company.” 

There it was, a red blush, spreading across Garreth’s face. “I’ve never been happier.” He sounded as if he were in a dream state.

“Oh hush,” She giggled. “Liar. I was there when you managed to make the perfect batch of fizzing whiz beer that didn’t blow up, and it actually tasted drinkable.” 

“That WAS incredible!” He laughed, reminiscing. “I have since refined that recipe, I’ll have you know. You can actually drink a whole mug of it and not get sick!” 

“Wonderful! I’d love to try some.” 

“Well… okay maybe it still makes one a bit sick on occasion…” He backpedaled. “It’s a bit unpredictable. But, I have another better recipe I’ve been working on that you can try!” 

“I may take you up on that offer.” Do you live here,” She gestured to the castle. “in the faculty tower?” She recalled that most, if not all of the professors lived in the tower. 

“Uh, I don’t. I do have a room to stay in if I need it. But, I actually live in a nearby Hamlet. It has a yard where I can grow some ingredients and it’s near some woods where I can forage.” Garreth took a drink from his cup. 

“Oh? I didn’t think they would allow you to live off the property if you were a professor.” She honestly hadn’t put much thought into it as a child. Most of the time it felt like the professors just slept in their classroom offices. 

“There’s a floo flame two houses down from me. And, there's a floo flame right outside of my classroom. I can arguably make it to my classroom faster than others that live within the castle itself.” He smiled like he’d tested that theory already. 

The conversation flowed easily as they ate their meal. The two candles floating above the table kept the balcony romantically lit and very warm. The gentle yellow flame made Garreth’s hair appear more strawberry blond than his usual firebolt strands.

She didn’t want this night to end. She felt annoyed that she had to leave early the next morning. When she initially visited, she hadn’t planned on even staying the one night let alone two. She didn’t bring more than just the one spare set of clothing nor did she bring enough galleons to pay for yet another room at a nearby stay. Sadness crept into her mind, but she pushed it away and focused on enjoying the moment. 

They continued their banter as the dinner progressed. They both took turns bringing up memories of their time at school and sharing knowledge about what their old friends were up to now. 

Later, she found her arm linked with Garreth’s again as he showed her around his classroom. 

“I’ve made some changes, but mostly kept things the way they were. I don’t like sitting for most of the class. I find that I walk around and answer questions most of the time anyway. So, I got rid of the desk to make room for additional caldrons.” Garreth spoke excitedly. He looked a lot like his enthusiastic younger self now. She loved that he still held onto wonder, like everything was still fresh and new. 

She took in her old classroom, spotting some differences here and there. “I’m impressed by your ingredient shelves. They are much more organized than I remember.” All the shelves were organized by color and size. Most of the jars looked dusted and all their labels were facing outward neatly.  

Garreth rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, you can thank one of my students for that. A first year. She came in the first day and gasped. Said that this was no way to run a classroom. She ended up staying after class several times for a couple of weeks just to reorganize my ingredients. She condensed some and separated others. I haven’t dared to touch them since. I am grateful, but I don’t want to mess up all her hard work. Plus, the other students have been finding things much faster. Whatever she did, it’s a far better system than what I could have come up with.” 

“Sounds like she’d make a good teacher's assistant one day.” They continued their jaunt around the room, eventually making their way back toward the entrance. 

“That would mean she’d have to go into my office. I think she would quit on the spot if she went in there.” Garreth laughed. “Speaking of,” He waved his wand at the lock on the door within the classroom. The lock popped and the door swung open. “This is my office.” He pocketed his wand and lead her in. 

It wasn’t dirty at all. In fact, there was far less dust than what she remembered from it being Professor Sharps's office. It looked more lived-in albeit disorganized. He used almost every surface to house potion bottles, ingredient jars, or bubbling caldrons. 

“I know it looks kind of bad… But, I know where everything is. Or, at least I think I could find what I was looking for pretty quickly.” He glanced around then looked back over at her, eagerly waiting to hear what she thought. 

“It’s very you, Gar.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. Her eyes bounce from one shelf to another. There were several corks on his desk and a slew of blank tags tossed about. She guessed he must have been in the middle of labeling some potions before she got there. 

“Feel free to take a seat if you want.” He squeezed her hand back, grinning like an idiot. “I can make us some tea.” The only seat was at his desk. It felt strange to be seated while he stood so she opted to lean against the desk instead. 

She peaked at the clock ticking away on the wall and sighed. “I think I’ll pass on the tea. It’s getting a bit late.” She had a pang of regret the second she said that. “I-I don’t want the night to end, but I do have to leave a bit early in the morning.” 

Garreth nodded his head. “It’s perfectly alright. I’m glad you said something. I would have kept talking for hours.” His smile looked bittersweet. He ran his hand through his hair and rested his palm on the back of his neck. 

She didn’t want to come outFright and say how she was feeling quite yet. If they did want to see each other again, it wouldn’t be for a while due to their schedules. And, what if long distance wasn’t Garreth’s thing? Or if he agreed to it, how long would they both last? Did he always want her to come to him? Or would he be willing to come to her? He probably couldn’t stay with her for very long anyway, he would always have to come back for his classes. She shook her head out of her thoughts. She was getting ahead of herself.

“I’d love to talk to you for hours.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “If I could.” 

That brightened his smile. “Yeah? And what would you like to talk about with me for hours?” He took a step toward her, brows lifting in question. 

“Anything…” She breathed the word. 

She laughed as nervous and giddy energy bubbled up inside her. But, it was the second step he took that made her stomach break out into flutters. Garreth stood in front of her, gaze falling on hers. He took her hand in his and laced their fingers together. Her heart hammered as she realized just how alone they were. They weren’t kids sneaking around anymore, and no one was looking for them.  

His eyes twinkled as he cupped one side of her face. Their noses touched and he hovered in silent question. She squeezed her hand in his and held her breath when his thumb gently stroked her skin.

Her heart thrummed wildly in her ears while she focused on the two freckles that decorated his top lip. Without further hesitation, she pressed up on her toes and accepted his invitation. His lips were warm against hers and oh, so soft. He kissed her like she was delicate, pressing his lips to hers tenderly. He let out a relieved sigh and planted several soft pecks atop her mouth. 

He slowed his rhythm gradually. When it felt like he was going to conclude the kiss, she slid her palms up his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck. Garreth took a sharp inhale and slid his hand to rest on her lower back. He hugged her close, tilting his head more to the right, and slotting their lips together to get a much deeper kiss. 

The sounds of feet shuffling as they scrambled to get that much closer to one another, labored breathing, and lips meeting filled the office. She was caught up in the rhythm of it all. The urgency of the kiss began to reflect how much she deeply yearned for him, all the way to the center of her being. She wanted this. He wanted this. It was clearer than glass to her. They just fit together so perfectly.

Bells chimed in the distance and Garreth tore his lips away. He looked pained to be parted from her. His forehead pressed into hers while taking a deep breath. 

“That’ll be 11:00 PM. I am sorry I kept you out so late.” He pressed a long, hard kiss to her forehead, hands cupping the sides of her face as he did. 

She smiled at the affection and looked up to meet his eyes. “Thank you for tonight.” Her fingers playfully twirled a stray piece of his crimson hair. 

Garreth smiled wide and raced to plant a chassed kiss on her lips. “I should be thanking you. I am so glad you came into town. I’m happy you agreed to go on a date with me.” His thumb swiped over her bottom lip. He marveled at her for a few more moments before stepping away. 

“I…” She paused. “I guess I should be going.” She did tell him earlier that she couldn’t stay out too late. But, this was making her regret that statement. She wanted nothing more than to fold into his arms and stay there all night. 

“May I walk you back to your lodgings for the night?” 

“Of course. I’d love that.” She gave him one last smile and squeezed their clasped hands before breaking away. 

On their way out, Garreth locked his office door with a wave of his wand then took her hand in his. “There’s a floo flame just there,” he pointed across the hall. His warm fingers laced with hers and excitement bubbled up in her chest. They fell into pace with one another with no effort. 

The trip was like a flash. The warm air from the castle was gone and replaced instantly with the night's chilly atmosphere. A gush of icy wind blew past, lifting dried leaves from the cobblestone street. She hugged herself to suppress a shiver.

“It’s that one.” She pointed to the quaint bed and breakfast across the square. 

Garreth squinted in that direction. “I see it! Let’s get inside.” He looked down just as she shivered. “Quickly now!” He said with a smile. 

They bounded for the building in sync, both laughing a bit at the other's competitive nature. They both tried to quickly step in front of one another but Garreth rushed forward at the last minute and opened the door for her. 

“After you.” He gave her a playful wink.

Stagnant warm air greeted them. She rubbed her hands together to create heat. The fireplace in the corner of the room blazed and the scent of freshly brewed tea wafted in the air. 

“Good evening!” The receptionist chimed. She stood from behind the desk, setting her drink down in the process. She smoothed her blazer and looked between the two of them with a welcoming smile. 

“Yes, good evening.” She greeted. 

“Good evening.” Garreth nodded. 

“Do you need to check in?” The receptionist began opening a ledger. 

“No, I’ve got a key already. Thank you.” She wave to the receptionist and guided Garreth down the hall. 

“Not a problem. Please feel free to come to the front desk at any time if you are in need of anything.” The receptionist called after. 

“Will do!” She responded over her shoulder. 

She realized how fast she was rushing to her room and began to stall her steps. The excitement and energy from their playfulness outside had not worn off on her yet. She buzzed with adrenaline and, truthfully, nerves. She wanted to kiss him again. 

“It’s a nice stay.” He broke the silence. 

“Yes, it’s very nice. It was the only open room I could find nearby on such short notice. They were quick to get me a room. A nice couple, the people that run this place.”

They walked a few more steps in silence. “Will you be coming back anytime soon?” Garreth’s voice was full of hope. 

“I might, I mean- Maybe? I have some business back near my home. So, it won't be for another few weeks before I can come back.” 

Garreth’s eyes wandered as he processed her words. “Then, may I come visit you? If you’ll have me of course.”

She stopped walking. “I’d love that.” She pulled the key out of her pocket and read the number on it. 

“Fantastic!” He sighed in relief. His smile reached his eyes and he looked absolutely bursting with happiness. 

She smiled at his expression and turned the corner. Her steps slowed in front of the second door on the left. “Here I am.” 

Garreth nodded and ran his hand through his hair. “I had a lot of fun.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I would love to take you out again, soon. Maybe I can visit you this coming weekend? I teach my last class at noon on Friday, so I will be free all weekend starting then.” 

She leaned against the wall next to her door, picking at a piece of loose thread on her jacket sleeve, and smiled. “That would be fine, as long as you don’t mind going on a couple of errands with me.” 

“I would not mind at all.” He smiled wide. “In fact, that sounds like a lot of fun.” 

She absently pulled at the loose thread, a light blush never leaving her cheeks. Garreth looked over his shoulder down the hall then back at her. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. 

“Could I, er…” He averted his eyes and looked down the hall again, biting his bottom lip.

“What is it?” 

Garreth resolved himself, clearing his throat. He leaned in a bit closer, keeping his voice down. “I want to kiss you… again.” His eyes caught hers. “May I?” 

Her blush spread to her ears. “Yes.” She perked up, ready to press up on her toes at a moment's notice to capture his lips yet again.

“Yes?” Garreth smiled wide.

“I’d like that.” She admitted.

He ran his hand down her arm tentatively. He took her hand again and rubbed a circle on the back of it with his thumb. Garreth was almost a head taller than her now. It was still so strange seeing just how much he’d changed after all these years. She wanted to explore more about him and get to know everything about who he was now. He accommodated their height difference by leaning down. His lips parted ever so slightly as he inched closer to her. She pushed up on her toes to meet him halfway. 

They met in the middle, arms wrapping around one another. They picked up where they left off in his office. She poured every bit of passion she could muster into that kiss hoping to show him just how much the night meant to her, how much he meant to her. Garreth reciprocated her passion like it was a challenge. 

She was lost in the kiss, lost in the fervor, but something prodding her lips brought her back down to reality. She paid attention to their mouths trying to process what it was. Garreth did it again, pressing the tip of his tongue against her closed mouth. She realized he was asking her to part her lips for him. A dizzying rush swept over her, and she relaxed her lips at his request. 

His tongue dipped passed her parted lips in slow sensual motions, gliding over the tip of hers. She hummed at the sensation. Fuck, it felt so good kissing him like this. Her sighs encourage him, and he slipped his tongue in more and more. She pushed against his body eagerly, arms tight against his neck, hands sliding in his silky hair. He pushed back, pressing her body firmly against the wall with his. She could feel just how much this was affecting him as he absently rolled his hips against her.

The soft yearning sounds he started to make were heavenly. He sounded borderline needy and holy hell was it affecting her. Each whimper he stifled went straight down her spine, fueling her burning desire. Weak at the knees, she’d probably slide to the floor if it wasn’t for him holding her up against the wall.

She quickly realized, despite his roaming touches, Garreth’s hands only moved everywhere that was decent, missing all her sensitive places. She peaked her eyes open as they made out, seeing just how lust drunk he was. She noticed the angular cut of his jaw, decorated with hundreds of tiny freckles. His face was beet red and his hair was in shambles. She’d done that to him, she was the one that made him into this mess of a man. 

The realization of the effect she had on him gave her a shot of audacity. When his palm roamed to the small of her back again, she reached back and slid his hand to cup her ass. 

She broke their kiss to speak. “It’s okay, you can touch me.” 

“Yeah?!” Garreth was breathless. His hand was frozen in place. She felt a tremble go through him. 

“Yes… Please. We won’t see each other for a while and…” Was that the best excuse she could come up with? She tried again, the truth this time. “I want you to touch me.” 

He nodded, and his hand squeezed the roundness of her ass. His mouth moved from her lips, to her jaw, and down to her neck. His little nips and kisses made her ache between her thighs. He sucked lightly under her ear, both hands wildly massaging her backside. His tongue swept across her skin sending chilled bumps down her arm. 

Her skirt was riding up with the friction of his enthusiastic movements. He was way more handsy than she expected him to be but welcomed it greedily. The enthusiastic massaging and groping of her ass excited her to no end.  When her skirt rode up too high and his finger touched her bare thigh he stopped. “Is this okay?” His eyes went wide, a pleading look of apology in his gaze.

“Yes!” She didn’t mean to whimper but fucking hell her mind was becoming mush. It was filled with just him, Garreth’s lips, Garreth’s tongue, his hands, his hips, his hard as fuck cock in his pants rubbing against her with every grind of his hips. 

With her permission, he slid both his hands under her skirt, feeling her ass with only the thin barrier of her cotton panties. “Shit,” She panted into his kiss. With his grip manipulating the cloth, moving it around, she could feel just how wet she’d gotten from this interaction. 

Garreth was breathless as they made out. He groaned into her mouth, swiping his tongue as deep as it would go. She matched his energy, and gripped the back of his head, holding him to her lips. Her hands soon began to slide around his hair, touseling his already messy waves. He groaned when her nails gently scraped his scalp. 

Garreth’s hips pushed against her again and she returned the gesture, grinding against him in kind. Her heart was swelling with emotion the longer they kissed. She could have this with him, all the time. She wanted it more than anything. This could be the very adventure she’d been searching for. A life with him, rekindling their childhood flame and making up for lost time for as long as they lived. The butterflies in her stomach doubled.

She pushed his head to the side and began trailing kisses down his neck to his clavicle. She unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and pulled the collar down to reveal more freckled skin. Garreth panted like he’d been chased all the way here, hands still kneading her ass.

She began to kiss his chest as more skin became bare to her. She wanted to leave a kiss for each day they were apart, a kiss for every moment she spent pining after him in school, a kiss for every year that went by where her love for him hadn’t yet faded. 

He slowed his grip and ran his palms up and down her thighs, teasing his finger along her panty line. He was getting bolder and she loved it. She sucked on the patch of skin that would be hidden by his clothes in the daytime. Despite wanting to mark him for all to see, Garreth was a professor now and had a professional life. His racing heart pulsed on her lips as she marked him. She licked and sucked the same spot while he watched, eyes half-lidded. 

“Something to remember you by?” Garreth tried to tease, but it came out as more of a needy sigh. 

“Something like that.” She teased back, breath heady. 

The hickey was smaller than she thought it’d be based on how hard she’d been sucking. She kissed the small mark before letting go of his shirt and hiding it from view.

Garreth’s mouth was on hers in a flash. He left one hand under her skirt while the other slid up her waist. He stopped at her ribs and rested there. 

“You can touch me.” She assured, cupping his face and pulling him into a devious kiss. 

He groaned into the kiss, sliding his hand up slowly to cup her breast. He squeezed her and held his breath. She slid her tongue into his mouth, pushing her chest against his palm. He readjusted his stance to hold both her chest and ass comfortably. 

The squeezing and rubbing sensation was gunning her desire. His hand gripping and sliding along her breast moved the fabric around just right to pleasure the sensitive nipple below. She moaned when he squeezed particularly hard, pressing herself into his arms.  Their muffled sounds of pleasure filled the air as their kisses heated up. Waves of desire and heat radiated between their bodies. 

Garreth gave her ass one last squeeze before daring to press his hand between her thighs. He cupped her pussy and added some pressure. His palm ground into her clit in a circular motion and she cursed. Before she knew it, her hips rocked against his hand fervently. The motion spread her wet desire all over the cloth of the panties soaking through to his skin. 

“Fu-uck” He moaned, grinding his hand against her cunt. “You’re so eager, so perfect,” His voice was a borderline whimper. “...so wet.” he whispered in disbelief. 

“Garreth-” She moaned his name, gripping his shoulders to keep herself upright. 

He kept up his eager pace, grinding his hand in a circular pattern while she rocked her hips. Garreth bit her bottom lip, forcing her mouth open so her moans filled the hall. He then swiped his tongue against hers, kissing and lapping at her mouth in a craze.

She could feel it coming, the release her body was working up to. It lingered on the edge, like a diver working up their courage to take the plunge. Her legs were jelly and her head was swimming. “...Sssso close.” She moaned into his mouth. 

Garreth stopped his ministrations and dipped his hand in the front of her panties and used his fingers to focus pressure on her clit. The feeling of skin-to-skin was blinding. She saw stars at the unbridled sensation. His fingertips were so smooth against her sensitive, throbbing clit. 

She focused on his touch, clenching her eyes shut. Garreth ran his lips along her skin, gently biting the spot below her ear. He squeezed his other hand on her clothed breast, rubbing his thumb along the center. “Holy shit, you’re so beautiful.” He admired. 

“I’m…” She began. The feeling between her legs paused near the peak, holding itself there for an agonizing moment. “I’m going to-” A moan cut her off. The orgasm pulsed inside her, throbbing against Garreth’s circling fingers. 

He sighed, shoulders relaxing, as she trembled in his arms. 

“That’s it, my sweet girl.” Garreth encouraged, never stopping the rhythm of his fingers that got her to her climax. 

She buried her head in his neck, riding out the last remnants of her pleasure. Her breathing soon returned to normal, but her grip on his shirt was just as tight. 

When she settled down, Garreth’s finger left her clit and swiftly slid inside of her. Her post-orgasm wetness allowed him quick and easy access. Her walls trembled against the intrusion, still affected by what he’d done to her, the pleasure he’d given. 

“Oh!” She gasped. Garreth pressed firmly against her wall, sliding in and out slowly. “There… Yes. You’re making me feel so incredible, Garreth.” He was hitting the right. fucking. spot. 

A thought floated into her mind wondering how many women he’d been with to know exactly what to do with her body, but she swatted it away just as quickly. This was about them and them alone.

“Your praises are making me feel invincible.” He nuzzled her face, inviting her to look up at him. “I want more of those sweet little kisses please.” His kind voice was laced with a lingering hint of lust. 

She was in a daze. The world around her was nothing but a dream state. She kissed him again and poured her soul into it. Garreth’s slipped in a second finger, keeping his ministrations shallow, driving her absolutely mad. 

She pleaded into his mouth. “Gar, I need mor-”

“Down the hall and to the left!” The receptionist's voice sliced through their moment. “Have a good stay.” 

“Thank you,” A stranger’s voice echoed. 

Garreth stood up straight and looked at her with wild eyes. “Shit! We're a mess!” He whispered. 

He quickly readjusted her panties and helped smooth down her skirt, shifting it so the zipper was in the back. She began to tame his wild hair with a huge grin. They both giggled as they rushed to help one another become decent again. She didn’t miss the way he wiped his fingers that had just been knuckle-deep inside her on his trousers.  

Just as she fastened the top button of Garreth’s shirt, an older couple came around the corner. She hoped they’d walk past the hallway they were in, but of course, they were booked to sleep in one of the rooms down her hallway. 

She knew they could tell they’d just interrupted something as they glanced them over. Once they assessed the two lovebirds, they looked away silently. Not a word was spoken by anyone as they walked past and entered the room across the hall. 

Garreth flashed her wide eyes and grinned. Once the door was shut, and they were alone again, they both laughed quietly. 

“I am so sorry. I’ve kept you up so much later than you wanted.” He apologized, smoothing down bits of her hair. 

“It's fine,” She smiled up at him, still completely blissed out. She cupped his cheek and rand her thumb along his speckled skin. “I’m definitely not mad.”

He laughed and dropped his head. His cheeks were still stained pink. “Good… good.” He sighed. They melted into a warm hug. “I will let you go now. But-” He spoke quietly. “I can’t wait to see you again already.” 

“Me too.” She squeezed him as their hug lingered. 

When they kissed again neither of them could stop smiling.

“Get some rest. You’ve got an early morning!” He gestured to her door.

“It’s already your fault I’ve lost sleep.” She teased. “Next time…” She bit her lip. “We focus on you…” 

He hugged her again. She couldn’t get enough of his touches. “Don’t worry about me.” He assured with a calm tone. “Now, go to bed young lady. It’s probably past midnight by now.” 

She smiled at him. “Good night, Garreth.” 

“Good night.” 

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