#just pinning from afar and trying his best

[neouture]

Senses

Pairing: Haechan x Reader

Words: 4,146

Genre: Smut (18+), angst if you squint

Includes: Fem!Reader, established relationship. Haechan is jealous and somewhat possesive bc of a silly little hug drunk Renjun gave you. Arguing, silent treatment, make up sex. Smut warnings under the cut !

Author's note: Possesive Haechan lives in my mind rent free. This story might not be for everyone because it includes very specific kinks that not everyone is into, but I had a lot of fun with this. If you like it, please leave a comment/ask. I also now have a ko-fi account, the link it's in my pinned post, in case anyone is interested in leaving a tip ! That's totally up to you tho, my stories are free for everyone. It's just another way to support (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) I'm reposting this bc I posted it yesterday but it wasn't showing up in the tags so hopefully they work now!

Smut warnings: I feel like this is the time to reveal I have an impregnation kink so bear with it. Dirty talk, teasing, you're somewhat turned on by Haechan's possesiveness in all honesty. Oral sex (f. receiving), mentions and fantasies of impregnation, impregnation kink, unprotected sex (stay safe ! ), creampie.

If looks could kill, Renjun would've had a fatal ending.

Way more fatal than the fate you are transiting right now, sitting in the passenger seat while Haechan's gaze shoots darts into the road as if it’s a target, surrounded by an overwhelming silence that not even the street sounds and the city’s bustling can ease.

If looks could kill, Renjun would’ve collapsed next to you the second he decided to wrap one of his arms around you in a warm, brotherly hug. One that, seemingly so innocent, was misinterpreted by your boyfriend from afar.

“Haechan,” you sigh, but it’s useless yet again. No matter how many times you’ve said his name on the way back home, it seems as though you're speaking to a wall. A stubborn wall that doesn't listen, in which your words bounce back and are interiorized with shame and embarrassment when you realize that all you’re left with is the palpable tension inside his car.

You can see said tension in the prominent veins of his arms, his clenched jaw and the way he is just staring at the horizon, not daring to look at you. You can feel it every time you call out his name and his body stiffens a little. You can hear it in his heavy heartbeats and rapid breathing. You can smell it on your clothes, impregnated with alcohol and cigarette smoke.

But you can’t taste it. You can’t taste the tension when your mouth is dry, and your throat is aching with words gathered at the lump in your throat, threatening to spill out at any moment in an attempt to know what's going on in his mind.

“Look he didn’t mean it that way,” you murmur, trying to ignore the stinging tears pricking in the corners of your eyes. “He just- he just put his arm around me. It wasn’t- it didn’t mean anything”.

“Of course it didn’t,” it’s the only response you get, right when his car takes the street of the complex you two live in.

Whether it's because of the sound of his voice, or the fact that you're really close to knowing your true fate tonight, you feel somewhat relieved.

“He was tipsy,” you continue, resting your head against the cold, glass window.

“You weren’t,” Haechan cuts you short right when he enters the underground parking lot. The car becomes illuminated by a dim, warm light, just enough to catch a better glimpse of your boyfriend, but he still doesn’t look at you. “And you still let him put his hands on you”.

“Come on, Haechan!” you groan, frustrated.

His jealousy always gets the best out of you, but somehow it also manages for the worst of you to show through. It's a complicated situation you always find yourself in, when something like such happens. You don't really like that side of him, the jealous and possessive one, the one that feels entitled to you as a person. But at the same time, you really can't begin to hate it either.

It’s enticing.

“Get out,” he says while unbuckling his seat belt. He does so with a swift movement, only to turn around the car just to open the door for you.

He is upset, and pissed, and really angry, but he can’t get himself to stop being a gentleman to you. What happened tonight it's not your fault, anyways, but he secretly wishes you'd pushed Renjun away.

In a way, Haechan thinks it’s your fault. Even when it isn’t.

But you still follow his orders to a t, getting out of the vehicle while he holds the door for you, closing it right behind you with a loud sound that makes you feel startled for a bit.

You know Haechan would never hurt you, but this side of him it's such a scary contrast to his usual personality. It’s somewhat unsettling, to say the least, but it is never frightening.

“You’re going to give me the silent treatment?”

After a minute or two, the lack of response gives you a one. You follow him defeated through the elevator doors that take you to the lobby complex, and lose all hope in getting him to talk.

Plus, it’s getting late, and you’re tired, so if Haechan doesn’t want to talk now, you’re not going to push him further anymore —it’s probably best to deal with all this tomorrow morning, after a good night of sleep.

You stop trying to get his attention when the doors of the lobby's elevator close, and just opt to stand right beside him in silence —you've said so much already, from the minute he dragged you out of the bar you and your friends were attending to celebrate Jaemin's birthday, to the final moments in his car; if he didn’t say anything then, he is probably not going to say anything now.

So you accept the silent treatment, walking alongside with him to your apartment door. He pulls out his keys, opens it for you and gets inside without even sending a look your way. You close the door behind you and watch as he throws his jacket to the living room couch, standing awkwardly while he figures out exactly what to say.

“Why did you-”.

“I’m tired,” you cut him short, passing by him through the living room and into your bedroom. “I’m going to bed”.

Like him, you pass by without sparing him a glance. Without even acknowledging his presence there, like you’re just announcing another part of your routine to no one in particular.

“You’re not,” it’s when you feel his hand wrapping around your wrist, and stopping you from leaving the scene, that you turn around to face him —you can still see the tension, in his knitted eyebrows and that gaze of regret he holds. “Let’s talk”.

“I wanted to talk,” you murmur, getting yourself out of his grip. “I spent all the ride back home trying to talk, but you weren’t even looking at me”.

“I was just trying to find the right ti-”.

“What even is the right time?” there’s annoyance in your voice, and a part of you wishes your emotions hadn't escalated too quickly. But if there's one thing that pisses you off, is how things are always done the way he wants them, when he wants them. “When you feel like talking?”

“Listen to me-”.

“No, Haechan, you listen to me,” you sigh, leaving your purse on the couch, right next to his jacket. “Renjun just put his arm around me, he wasn’t- it wasn’t even an actual hug. And yeah- he was tipsy, but he just- he wasn’t hitting on me or anything, God!”

The more you speak, the more stressed you become. Now that the words are falling from your lips, and you’re revisiting the facts, you realize how unprovoked Haechan’s anger truly is.

“You say he's one of your best friends, but you can't even trust him,” your hands travel all the way to your hair, pushing it back and away from your face. The despair is making your body feel warm, and you can even feel a thin layer of sweat gathering on your forehead and nape. “You say you love me, but you can’t even trust me”.

“I trust him,” Haechan murmurs, “and I trust you”.

“Then what is your problem?”

“I am the fucking problem,” the black-haired groans, imitating your previous actions by pushing his hair away from his face. It’s not usual for him to raise his voice, let alone sound this frustrated —the unexpected loud tone makes you swallow thickly. “I know it’s not your fault but I can’t help it”.

“It is not my fault,” you repeat in a whisper, trying to give some echo to his own words. “If it’s not my fault, then why are you acting like it is?”

Haechan goes quiet. Not because he wants to give you the silent treatment again, but because he doesn't know what to say.

Is there anything to say, anyway? You're right, and he feels like an asshole.

“Because,” he begins, all worked up because he believes the answer is rather obvious. Isn’t it? He’s acting like this because you’re his. Because no other man has the right to touch you, or even look your way. You’re his, and he doesn’t like to share. “Because you’re only mine”.

The sudden response makes your heart skip a beat or two. Is it wrong to feel something just by seeing him this angry? Is it wrong to feel proud of hearing him say something so possessive like that?

You feel conflicted —you’re enjoying this when you’re not supposed to.

“Yours?” you ask, with an eyebrow slightly cocked.

“Yes, mine,” you're not quite sure when it happened, but your bodies are now facing each other. You can smell the tension in his cologne, along with the remains of cigarette smoke and the alcoholic beverage Renjun threw Haechan’s way at the club.

“You’re so entitled,” you let out a soft scoff, one that does nothing to ease Haechan's sharp gestures. “Yes, you’re my boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean I belong to you”.

It's, perhaps, the frustration talking. You know what he means, but it's your anger the one to make the first move.

However, you're not expecting him to laugh.

You expected him to counter attack, to get even angrier.

You expected him to raise his voice, or be silent at all.

But you weren't expecting to see the corners of his lips rising in a half smile, one as mischievous at the comment you just made.

“What?”

“Do I need to remind you how mouthy you get when I'm fucking you?”

You stare at him for what feels like ages, not daring to blink or break eye contact. He is also staring at you, but far from looking angry or frustrated, he looks amused. It's like the roles have been reversed, and it's you now who doesn't know what to say.

“What- does that have to do with this?”

“You say you don’t belong to me,” Haechan sighs, the tip of his tongue poking just slightly through his cheek. “But you never seemed reluctant about me owning you when we're in our bed”.

You can feel your cheeks getting warmer, and a weird tension in your lower abdomen you’ve grown to be familiar with over the past years. It’s probably not the greatest time to get aroused, but you can’t control yourself when it comes to him.

Just like he can’t control himself when it’s about you.

“That’s- it’s different,” you weakly attack.

“Is it?”

Haechan can tell you're getting nervous. By the way your shoulders are moving at a faster rate, and you seem to be struggling to look at him, he knows he has hit a nail. Perhaps this is a way to make a point —the one he has been wanting to make all night long.

“How so?”

The words get caught up in your throat again, and the fact that you don't have an actual response makes you feel uneasy.

“If it's any different, then that means you're a liar,” he says, guiding one of his hands to your chin whilst lifting it up. You can hear the tension in the nuances of his voice, those who seem mocking and provocative. Those looking to make you lose a game you didn't even know you were playing, “so when are you lying?”.

His hand strokes the sides of your face, and then places a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is enough to make you gulp, but it’s a nice contrast to his harsh and filthy words.

“Are you lying to me when you say you belong to me, and that you’re mine?” Haechan asks, rubbing his thumb against your cheek. “Or are you lying to me right now, just to rile me up and get what you want?”.

That wasn't precisely a conscious plan, but now that he says so it seems that all your efforts to get him all worked up were to end up just like this.

“I just- Haechan”.

“What?” he asks you. The hand that was caressing your cheek is now placed at your waist, pulling him closer to his body.

You can feel the tension when his bulge brushes against your abdomen, hard and throbbing, pressing against you. It’s too tempting to stop, too inviting to know what he has to say without using no words.

So you allow him to touch you, to press his body against yours to make you feel how much he needs you. There is really no point in resisting, because you’ve wanted this all night long.

“Pervert,” you whisper, panting when you feel his rough grip on your ass. “I bet you were thinking about this on the way back home”.

“And you weren’t?” Haechan scoffs, quietly. “I could see your thighs squeezing together every time you looked at me”.

Embarrassingly enough, he is not that far from the truth.

“I can’t help it,” you wrap your arms around his neck in an attempt to be closer to him. “I’m sorry”.

“Save your apologies for later,” his lips are dangerously close to yours, and you squirm between his arms when you feel his breath caressing your chin and jaw. “You’re going to need them for being such a liar”.

And, finally, you can taste the tension —it tastes like alcohol, cherries, and rage. Like mint and something else.

“Fuck,” you whisper in between kisses when you feel his teeth sinking on your lower lip, “Haechan”.

It doesn’t take him long to guide you to the bedroom, managing to walk the small, dark hallway with his hands all over your body and his eyes closed.

“Haechan,” you voice once again when he lays you down in the mattress, his skillful hands looking for the hems of your jeans and underwear to pull them off in one go. Truth be told, you’ve never seen him this desperate; his lips are all over your thighs and legs, kissing them sloppy while he caresses the sides of them. He’s sucking and nibbling at the sensitive flesh, marking you every now and then in places he knows he’s the only one entitled to see.

Everything is happening too fast, but you don’t want him to slow down —you’re just as desperate as he is.

“You’re fucking dripping,” Haechan groans when he catches a glimpse of your sticky folds, all glistening with your arousal, “shit”.

He doesn’t hesitate before hooking both of his arms under and around your thighs, keeping you still in place while his lips approach your throbbing cunt.

“You think Renjun could get you this wet?” Haechan hums against your thigh, his intimidating gaze looking up at you while you struggle to support your upper body weight with your arms. For an unknown reason, you feel your body melting and going numb at such comments.

“N-no,” you shake your head.

“Do you think your body would react to him like it does with me?” The soft and teasing kisses are killing you; his lips are licking and sucking everywhere but where you want them.

“No, Haechan!” The cries in your voice makes him grind his hips against the mattress, hoping to get even the slightest friction.

He wishes he could keep on teasing you, drive you insane just like you did to him back there at the club. But, truth be told, he can't spend another minute without feeling you, in all the sense of the word.

“Apologize, then,” Haechan says, brushing the tip of his nose against your throbbing clit. That single touch is enough to earn a whimper from you, and it is also enough to make you lose all logic and rationality within you —not that you have any whenever you're underneath him in your bed to begin with.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, clenching around thin air every time the word falls from your lips. “Fuck, I’m sorry Haechan. I’m sorry”.

“Sorry for what?” the dark-haired asks again, acting oblivious to the situation. “What are you apologizing for?”

Whether it's mercy or pure neediness, his tongue unexpectedly laps at your wetness. He licks your slit and toys with your clit, just enough to provide you with some pleasure but without distracting you from your task.

“For- shit, for letting him touch me,” you sigh, kicking your head back. You’re not quite sure what exactly you’re sorry for, but you’re willing to say anything just to feel him. “For letting him- put his arm around me, fuck”.

Haechan smiles against your pussy. A genuine smile, one that can only indicate he’s feeling proud.

“See how easy it is?” he coos, continuing his ministrations on your clit, “you tell me what I want to hear, and I give you anything you want”.

Despite Haechan’s early accusations of you being a liar, you mean everything you say when you’re in bed. In fact, you're only brutally honest when he's deep inside you. When you've lost all your senses and sanity, and when all you are left with is pure bliss.

“I’m sorry,” you keep on chanting, latching your fingers against his dark locks in an attempt to bring him closer to you.

You know you're seconds away from coming, and he knows this too, so he allows you to manhandle him against you as much as you want. He hisses when you grip his hair particularly harsher, but he doesn’t stop; instead, he licks you ardently, looking forward to your orgasm.

“Show me how sorry you are, then,” he murmurs against you, his nose and chin shining with your own wetness. “Come”.

It’s the sight of him between your legs, along with his crude words and pretty eyes that pushes you to the edge. Your hands clasp the bed sheets beneath you, and your thighs threaten to close around him but he is quick to keep them apart with his hands.

“You’re getting shy now?” he teases you while you overcome your high, writhing underneath his hold. “Keep them open for me pretty, I want to lick you clean”.

Much against your body’s will, Haechan manages to keep you in place while he helps you through your orgasm, causing waves of overstimulation to wreak havoc inside you from your head to the tip of your toes.

“Haechan!,” you gasp when you feel him pulling away from your body, the sudden loss of contact making you feel somewhat relieved after the pinches of pain caused by the overstimulation.

His lips are bright peachy and swollen, all covered in your own orgasm.

“Too much?” Haechan asks, unbuckling his belt while getting rid of his clothes. You imitate him and do the same, discarding your blouse and bra somewhere along the room.

“No,” you shake your head, inviting him between your legs.

He positions himself in the middle, and the sight makes you clench around thin air yet again. His cock is hard and reddened, throbbing almost visibly in front of your eyes.

“You still think you can take me?” he asks yet again, trying to make sure you’re not sore from how aggressive his early ministrations were.

“I’ve been wanting you all night long, Haechan,” you murmur, wrapping your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. “Don’t care about anything, I just want you to fuck me”.

He kisses your forehead, and then your chin. The tip of his cock is pressing against your clit and, at times, against your entrance, but he is still nowhere near being inside you.

“See,” Haechan whispers with his lips against your jaw. “I know you’ve apologized, but I still need to make sure everyone knows you’re mine”.

His words make you let out a quiet scoff.

“How come, exactly?”

“What if I came inside you?” Even the idea makes you gasp —half a gasp, that ends up sounding more like a moan, “hm?”

For this, he needs to feel you. So he loses no time pushing himself inside you until he bottoms out. You dig your fingernails into his biceps when you feel the tip of his cock brushing against a sensitive spot inside you, and it’s only then when he continues to tell you, perhaps, his filthiest fantasy.

“What if I got you pregnant?” It’s crazy, the rational part of you acknowledges. But the aroused one, the one that lacks logic, only gets even more turned on at his words. “That way, everyone will know what we do when we’re alone”.

“Shit,” you cry, clenching around his cock.

He smiles when he feels it.

“You’d like that, don’t you?” After a couple of slow, delicate thrusts, he begins to acquire a faster pace when you get used to having him inside you. “You're squeezing my cock so hard”.

“You want to- get me pregnant?”

Even the words falling from your lips make you clench around him yet again, and it takes him a lot of effort not to come just by those gestures alone.

“That way everyone would know you’re mine,” Haechan sighs, pistoning deeper inside you. “Everyone would know that I’m the one who fucks you good, the one you allow to come inside that pretty pussy of yours”.

You whimper at his words, nibbling on your lower lip while trying to contain every lewd sound that threatens to escape your lips.

“I bet you’d- look so pretty like that,” the more aroused he gets, the less he cares about what he says —it seems as though he’s not having any inhibitions, and you love it. “Fuck”.

It's a wild fantasy, but you two seem to share it. You’d be lying if you say that the mere thought of carrying his child is not appealing to you, because it is.

“Yeah?” you ask, feeling him losing all pace and rhythm of his hips. “Why don’t you get me pregnant, then?”

The dirty talk does wonders to him, because the minute you start voicing his thoughts it’s the minute his movements become sloppier, rushed, and faster. He wants to come, he desperately needs it.

But he wants you to come first.

“I will,” he groans through gritted teeth. “If that’s what you want, then I will”.

Your heart feels fuzzy, and the tension on your lower abdomen starts increasing with each thrust. It’s not going to be long before you come around him, for the second time in a row, and as much as you’d like to savor this moment, you’re too desperate to take your time.

“Fuck,” Haechan curses under his breath, feeling his arms going numb —the pleasure is too overwhelming for him to maintain a steady pace, but he makes an effort. “Make me come, baby. Squeeze my cock until I come inside you”.

The dirty talk, combined with his gaze and the future promise of offering you that something only he can give it to you, makes you reach your orgasm again.

“Coming,” you cry quietly, wrapping your legs even tighter around his hips. You arch your back against him, and he hugs you tightly in place while he continues fucking your pussy, just as much as your grip allows him too.

“That’s it,” he praises, leaving wet kisses on your forehead and cheeks while you overcome your high. “Are you going to let me come inside you tonight? Fill you up with my cum?”

“Yes!” it’s all you manage to say in the midst of such a devastating arousal. “Yes, yes, Haechan”.

He buries his face on the crook of your neck, and keeps on fucking your swollen pussy until he achieves his orgasm too.

A hot, sticky feeling is quick to flood your tummy, as well as your inner thighs. He continues fucking you slowly and gently, even after coming, to prevent his arousal to leak out of you.

“Shit,” you cry, wrapping your arms around his neck so that he plops down on top of your body, “I can feel you”.

He hugs you into his embrace, while still inside you, and attempts to stabilize himself before leaving the bed to provide you with some wet towels and water. Truth be told, he wishes to stay like this forever, with your naked body underneath him, and his leaking cock inside you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, leaving a quick kiss on your lips. “I know it’s-”

“Hey,” you cut him short, cooing softly. “We can talk about it tomorrow morning”.

He gets the sense that you're comfortable right now, despite the early fight, so he follows your plea compliantly.

“I’m an asshole,” Haechan jokes.

“Sometimes,” you scoff softly, finding his hazy gaze in the midst of the dim lights. “I’m glad you can acknowledge it”.

“And I’m glad you still keep up with it”.

#nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #haechan smut #kpop smut #donghyuck smut #nct127 smut #nct smut

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Would you be open to writing a Clarisse la rue x fem reader soulmate au

Yes.

Capture The Flag and A Soulmate Mark

Let's get one thing clear, you didn't ask for this.

You didn't ask for something to be wrong with your brain. You didn't ask for a teacher to attack you and your younger brother on a field trip.

You didn't ask for your mother to be taken from you and Percy only to be taken to some camp and told you're a “Half-Blood.”

And you didn't ask for Clarisse La Rue, from the Ares Cabin, who you found out was a god of war, to live up to her father so much.

And you most certainly didn't ask for Clarisse to be looking at you in complete anger and hatred, and to be on the opposing end of her spear.

“Can we talk about this?” you tried to evade the spear, pushing at it with your sword you got from Chiron the best you could, giving your best, nervous smile albeit it, to try and charm your way out of it.

“And why would I do that?” Clarisse asked, seething and your smile only made her appear to be more angry.

Clarisse hated you. Hated your smile. Hated your laugh. Hated your brother, Percy, especially. Hated how you talked to her, how you walked, talked, everything. Especially the feeling in her chest as she looked at you.

“Cause I would like to live-” you tried, making Clarisse glare as she finally knocked the sword out of your hand.

“(Name)!” Percy yelled, almost crawling to you as he finally evaded Clarisse’s siblings as she pushed you closer and closer to the lake.

You glanced at Percy with wide eyes, looking at Clarisse as she got closer, grabbing your arm roughly, so close to you that you could feel her breath as she got in your face.

You felt an electrical shock go down your arm, thinking for a moment it was Clarisse’s spear, only to see her staring at your arm, her spear dropped at her side.

You stared at her face, watching the shock settle in and angry under the surface simmer as she stared at your arm held in her hand, unaffected as campers gathered around, Annabeth with Percy, Chiron afar as he yelled for Clarisse to release you.

Clarisse finally looked back up at you, anger visible, but something else you tried to pin-point.

You tried looking at her hand on your arm, seeing a glimpse of a mark but before you could, Clarisse reacted.

She yelled, pushing you into the lake as you yelped, falling in and submerging in the water for a moment, hearing your brother yell and soon joining you in the water.

“What the- what was that for?!” You asked, coughing as you finally got up, completely soaked as Percy leaned onto your arm, staring at Annabeth in disbelief.

The younger girl only stared back at him, you stared back at Clarisse as she simply regarded you with a face, or more so your arm, full of something you couldn't comprehend.

Percy's fingers went to the cut on his face, feeling the pain simmer to nothing before the ones on his arm disappeared. You looked at your brother in confusion, your own fingers tracing where the cut on your cheek should've been, to feel nothing.

“I don't understand.” Percy tried, shaking his head as Annabeth said nothing, eyes lingering up from you both to above your heads.

You could hear a pin drop, feeling Annabeth and Clarisse stare not only at you and your brother, the rest of camp Half-Bloods cheered for capture the flag simmering down as they too started.

Percy saw it before you did, looking up to follow Annabeth's eyes.

Percy nudged your arm, taking your stare from Clarisse and above to stare with wide eyes, full of confusion before it dawned.

Just over your head, was a three fingered trident, glowing blue.

Annabeth's lips almost quirked up in what looked to be a smile of disbelief at how your lives were now changed.

“Your dad's calling.” Was all Annabeth offered, your eyes moving slowly from the trident of Poseidon to your arm, seeing an obvious mark there.

A soulmate mark.

Your eyes drifted to Clarisse as the rest of the campers looked on, eyes locked on her as she looked at her own hand.

You saw the same mark on her palm.

You gripped your hand in your younger brothers, not sure if it was for his comfort or you're, but Percy held it back as Chiron spoke.

“You two have been claimed…by Poseidon, Earth Shaker, Storm-Bringer. Percy and (Name) Jackson. The children of Poseidon.”

But you couldn't pay attention, too focused on Clarisse, your soulmate, right in front of you

#clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse pjo #clarisse la rue #pjo #pjo tv show #pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader

[snowsinterlude]

😵‍💫 - measuring fantasies.

(coriolanus snow x f. reader)

summary: at every gala, at every party, you could see a cerulean pair of eyes watching you from afar- measuring you, from head to toe. you could say you did the same.

c.w: experienced reader, flirting, creampie, unproctected sex, dom reader, coriolanus crushing on you, songfic, drunk sex, virginity loss (male)

eyes on his, hand on a cup of posca, you could see coriolanus snow from the other side of the hall, trying his best not to look back at you, which seemed to be kind of impossible since you were in such a tight black dress.

you have imagined his hands on your body before- well, c'mon, he's quite big isn't he? of course you're gonna look. of course you're gonna fantasize about his hands on your body, going up and down on your waist. it isn't even difficult to imagine it.

with such a pretty face, seeing him across the room seemed like a joke to the way you wanted to dominate him. make him beg and plead to be inside of your cunt. just the thought of it made you smile, wine lipstick being an invitation for his lips.

"coriolanus," you called. "festus is calling you on the other room"

he arched his brow, but the sight of you in front of him was great- perfect, even.

"where is he?" he asked, finishing the cup of posca- fuck the alcohol, it was his third cup. he needed it. he knew you would be with someone else, he didn’t want to see it. he wanted you to be with him.

"i'll show you, just follow me." you said, and he obeyed you promptly, enchanted by the sight of you, by your smell. mesmerized, truly.

then, you bought him to an empty room, whatever- the gala is being held by your parents. the room was yours to use.

"well, where is he?" he asked again, brow arched. cute, he really thought you have bought him there to talk with his colleague, how innocent.

you turned abruptly to him, finished off your glass of posca the quickest you could, threw it away and thanked heavens for the fur rug on the entire floor of your room. he looked at you, a bit scared, maybe surprised, and you walked to him, closing the door behind him and letting a lipstick stain on his white button-up shirt. you could buy another one for him, fuck it. for now, you needed to show him who was in charge.

"you really thought i would bring you here all alone just for you to talk to festus? you're so cute, love." you said. the alcohol on that glass was starting to hit on your brain, you didn't want to mess things up by calling him for the wrong name.

"i- well, uh-"

"shhh," you started "you know i see you looking at me, you know i look at you. just enjoy it, ok?" you said. then again, you were quite literally pinning him against the wall, closing any chance he could have to pull away from you.

your lipstick was smeared by his lips slamming on yours, his hands on your waist, your hands on his shoulders, then his hands travelled down your body just like you imagined, and again, you smiled against his lips when you felt his hands on your thighs, grabbing them for you to wrap them around his waist.

"you're terrible," he said, kaying you on the bed, getting on top. of course you wouldn't allow it. no man is supposed to be on top of you.

"and why is it?"

"you don't know how much i've been waiting for it. for you." he said, you smiled, kissing the smeared marks of your lipstick on his lips.

"go on. keep talking." you demanded it. it wasn't a question. you needed the answer.

"i dreamed of you. do you know what it is to wake up breathless?" he asked, burying his face on the curvature of your neck, going down to your cleavage.

"uhum. what did i do to you in your dreams?"

"so many things." he said "i questionated my sanity on all of them." he kissed the skin of your boob, pulling the dress down to see your boobs completely.

so desperate. almost starving, maybe.

"yeah, i can imagine." you joked. "guess dreams come true hm?" you kissed the bridge of his nose. "let's see... you don't have a condom now, do you?"

"no."

"you're a virgin aren't you?" he frowned, and kept himself quiet. you didn't need much more than that. you smiled at his sudden quietness, the small pout on his lips was cute. "it's fine, i don't mind."

his heart seemed to beat happily at those words, he almost smiled at it if he didn’t feel so embarassed. then he saw how you were sitting so nicely on top of him- your dress and his pants were the only things keeping you both separated. and god, look at him! he's so cute. looking at you with the hope that you would let him inside. look at him, already getting hard only from the thought of your cunt on him.

and you did let him inside, too anxious to see the faces he would make.

you pulled his dick out of it's confines, and honestly, the question to why he was still a virgin was something that sounded different now. he was big. truly big. and the way his tip teased your clit because of how you grabbed him made you wet, your eyes half closed as you heard the sounds you both were making, the wet sounds of your pussy gushing at the tip of his dick were like music to you, the prettiest orchestra you could listen to was the natural sounds of you teasing his throbbing dick.

he closed his eyes, mouth agape as he let small sounds out of his lips, your scent filling his nostrils and then, when he engulfed your boob into his mouth you were too surprised, so much so that you ended up putting him inside you entirely.

you moaned a bit louder than expected, the way his dick was stretching you up so good felt terribly good- what's the name of this? balls deep? yeah, he was pretty much deep inside you.

he bit your nipple quietly, gently, sucking on it so good you thought of your nipple as a candy for him to be so eager.

so hungry, and for you! god, he was perfect. the most perfect boy you fucked until now.

you didn't care about the sounds you were making, the music outside was too loud, the talks too, and your room is soundproof. fuck it. make it a gift to him.

you ride him graciously, like you were used to it- to his size. "fuck- i didn't thought you would be so big!" you said. ah, you knew just what to say to those boys. but to him? it was different. it was true, everything you told him while riding him was true.

he was the only one you allowed to fuck you rightfully, his hands on your waist, guiding your moves up and down, back and forth all while his teeth was nibbling on your nipples and your neck.

your moans became louder, you melted and mewled at every thrust he gave upwards you, his hands grabbing you so tightly, his fingers still buried on your meat, on your ass, manhandling you. you felt like going crazy.

"you're so tight- fuck, 'should've fucked you before." he moaned, trying his very best not to cum too quick. you could notice how he was controlong himself not to. he was a virgin, after all. until twenty minutes ago he haven't had his first kiss-

and then there was you. beautiful, experienced, perfect you. collecting boys as a way to cope with the boredom. and him, right under you, who was awkward enough to think you called him to talk with someone else in a empty room. truly, how cute.

with this thought in mind, he came. feeling humiliated, he hid his face in the curvature of your neck. "sorry." he said, and you smiled.

"it's fine, baby. just keep going. i'm sure you can do it." you said, and he nodded obediently, thrusting slowly into your core. sensitive, but eager. he kept going inside you even if you knew he was still trying ti hold back from cumming again.

you smiled at him, the view was just too lovely, closed shut eyes, your mouth opened up to let out a moan. there was something truly erotic in the way he kissed your shoulder, closing his eyes while thrusting inside you.

when you came, you felt like you were in heaven, your legs crossed on his waist, your nails scratching the back of his broad shoulders, your eyes closed shut- and him, throbbing inside you, his eyes couldn't seem to leave you, and he loved how you were tightening around him, so warm and gummy.

he took his dick out of you, watching how your cum and his leaked down your legs. it was the prettiest sight he have ever seen. "sorry- i shouldn't have cummed inside."

" don't worry. i liked it." you said, kissing his temple.

you watched as he closed his eyes. he adjusted his shirt and pants, helped you in doing so again.

then again, after all of this, every party, gala, whatever occasion you both would meet up he was there, measuring you, looking you up and down and minutes later he was learning a new thing with you. still, his favorites were always in his dreams, when you would do all the shameful things he was afraid to tell you.

like when you would slap him in his dreams and call him a slut. he would always wake up too embarassed to how hard his dick would be.

but that's for another time. right now, he was too occupied eating you out.

#young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #young president snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tbosas smut #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #x reader

[baurbiediv]

another silk press

rafe cameron x black!gf!reader

content warnings: SMUT , unprotected sex (pullout method? never heard of her), creampie, overstimulation, y/n’s a bit bratty in this one, small mention of tummy bulge, slapping, i’ll add as i write & if i miss anything let me know, mdni/ageless blogs dni

“rafe, i mean it this time, control yourself or i will literally fuck you up.” you mumbled the last part, hoping your boyfriend wouldn’t hear it.

“y/n, i paid for your hair this time, i told you i was sorry.” he grumbled as his ears began to turn pink. you looked over at him and smiled before kissing his cheek, "i know you said you were sorry baby, but that's still not gonna cut it." you swore you'd never seen rafe turn his head quicker.

"y/n you're not being serious right now, right?" he said as he opened the car door for you, your hand gently cupped his cheek before you tapped it twice, "maybe i am .. maybe not." rafe kissed his teeth as he closed the passenger door, trying not to break the handle off in the midst of it. the driver's side door opened, revealing your frustrated boyfriend.

"rafael, i know you're not mad." you told him as you playfully pushed his head to the side. "i'm not mad, it's just i spend money on you left and right, yesterday i bought you the van cleef bracelet and the 4s that you wanted, and i'm STILL in silk press debt." he groaned out loud while you laughed as he started the car and drive back to your apartment, "i mean you could've said no though .", you said before stealing his drink out of the cup holder and drinking it, he momentarily looked over to you and saw his cup in your hand.

"AND you stole my drink too, i mean damn y/n, when can i catch a break." he said as he rolled his eyes like the child he is. you held up your index finger signaling to give you a moment, before you put the cup down, "again, rafael, you could have said no, and i could've got it on my own." and truthfully, you were right. with the way your parents spoiled you, sure enough you were bound to get whatever you wanted.

nothing would've prepared you for rafe slamming down on his brakes, which would've launched you straight into the dashboard had it not been for your seatbelt. you literally had your hand over your mouth while you hair was all disheveled.

you could hear rafe quietly laughing to himself, he looked over and saw you before taking off when the light turned green. "i'm sorry y/n, i didn't mean it." he said laughing as obnoxiously as he could, so of course, being the drama queen that you were, you grabbed his drink and took the top off of it and threw it at him, while he was driving, rookie mistake.

"really y/n? you serious right now?"

you nodded, "yeah, dead serious."

"while i'm driving?"

"yep."

if you were to be completely honest, right now, you prayed to god that no one would be observing from afar, your head was practically hanging off the car seat while rafe was hovering over you, drilling your shit in, giving you the best backshots known to man.

the gasps emitting from your mouth were so loud to the point rafe had to slap your ass twice to physically shut you up, which had your walls clamping down on his dick that was currently hitting you g spot over and over again. "rafe..." you managed to moan out pathetically.

"i don't care y/n." his heavy hand providing more warmth to your already hot body, “so you thought that shit was okay? huh?" he panted, the pace of his hips quickening. you opened your mouth to apologize, but of course nothing came about. you would never admit it out loud, “y-you hit the brakes t-too h-hard,” gasping when his fingers came into contact with your sensitive clit, loud whines protruded from your lips as your hands desperately looked for something to grab onto, but of course the man above you didn’t make things easier for you, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them to your back, allowing him easier access to get you closer to your orgasm.

your face was pressed against the back seat, in which rafe could see the drool coming from your lips and onto his seats, he didn’t even care, he couldn’t care in fact. he was more worried about you, “rafe, i’m cumminggg” you sobbed out, his fingers letting up on the swollen bud, “shh, you got it.” he said through a hushed tone. by now you were seeing stars, with the way your boyfriend was sinking his hips into yours, you could tell he was close, “fuckkk” rafe hissed out loud from behind you, pulling out of you just to see the mixture of his cum and yours, oozing out of you.

your boyfriend slapped your ass as you whined while trying to sit up but not before pulling you into his lap, “one more, yeah?” he looked at you as you nodded, your right arm wrapped around his neck as you hovered over his dick that was still hard, a strong hand gripped your face, “what’s the matter princess? you can’t take it?”, he taunted, god you wanted to slap the smirk off his face, but with the way he fucks you, that wasn’t an option. “i c-can.” you huffed, licking the pads of your middle and left finger before rubbing your already sensitive clit, you gently sink down as a whimper escapes your your lips.

“shh, you’re almost there, s’okay baby.” rafe says, trying to contain his moans as best as he can, by now you were sitting on your boyfriends lap, rocking your hips back forth. “you know how to fuck me princess, so cut the shit.” rafe grabbed your hips, as he moved your hips faster causing you to squeal as you grabbed one of his wrists, your arm still around his neck for support.

from the way your curls bounced from your now sweat out silk press to the way your breasts were now spilling out of your bra, rafe couldn’t tell which one was driving him crazier. you took matters into your own hands as you began bouncing up and down on his dick “that’s what i’m talking about, there you go baby.” he groaned, your moans and gasps were music to his ears, he knew he was hitting all the right places, but it was you doing all the work.

“it feels s-soo good rafeyy.” you cared about nothing more than trying to reach your orgasm, feeling that this one would be different. “yeah? just let me make you feel good.” rafe took this opportunity to yank one of your pretty brown breasts out of your bra, your nipples were hard and screaming for attention by him, to which he happily obliged. you watched as we swiftly took one nipple into his mouth. his tongue swirling around the hardened bud, this literally had you creaming all over his dick.

your legs were starting to get tired and you were nearing your second orgasm, as you tried to make your boyfriend aware of the situation at hand, you gently laid your hand on his chest and tapped twice, his mouth detaching from your nipple that now had small bite mark around it, “baby i’m gonna-“ were the only words you could get out before your boyfriend understood your signals, two heavy arms wrapped around your lower back.

rafe sat comfortably in the back seats as his hips pounded up into yours, you sobbed loudly at his actions. “oh fuck!! uuunghh, i’m cumming!” you placed your hands on each side of rafe’s face, pressing the sloppiest kiss to suppress your load moans, your orgasm hit hard, so hard to the point you didn’t even realize how much you were squirting onto the seats until rafe is gently pulling out of you. the sticky remnants of both your orgasms clinging to the bottom of your thighs and the top of his.

his hand comes to grab the back of your neck, “look at the mess you made all over my seats, someone’s gotta clean that up no?” he knew he was being an asshole, you couldn’t even keep your eyes open let alone form a full sentence, he forces your head to look down at the sticky seats. “m’sorry baby..” you told him, as you looked at him. if someone were to ask rafe what you looked like right now, he’d say he was looking at art. your lashes were now damp, your fenty lip gloss smeared all over your lips and chin, your hair now disheveled and a diamond earring missing out of your ear which was probably somewhere on the floor of the car.

before you know you know it you were being pushed onto your side. your eyebrows furrowed as you wondered how your boyfriend could keep going like you were two rabbits. “you’re still horny-“ you question before you’re abruptly cut off by rafe sliding into you. rafe placed his hand on the back of your thigh as this new angle allowed him to hit deeper than he was before. you grabbed rafe’s hand and placed it on your stomach, “you feel me right there? hm?” you nodded, a slight smack came across your cheek which had you clenching down on his dick, “words princes.” he muttered, “i-i feel you, i-in my tummy.” you stuttered, he placed his hands on either side of your head, his hips now slamming into yours again, this had you scream out and grab onto his arms.

each of his thrusts made your head spin faster and faster, “so good, s-so fucking good.” were the words you started senselessly babbling. rafe examined every square inch of your face, making sure he was doing exactly what he needed to do. “tell me you’re sorry y/n.” he groaned, your eyes were pleading with him, begging for him to not do this to you right now, not when you were so close your third orgasm, “apologize or i’ll stop.” he huffed, you couldn’t let him take it away from you, “s-sorry for b-being a brat rafeyyy” you whined as another slap came across your cheek, “and f-for throwing a d-drink in your face!” you could taste your orgasm on the tip of your tongue, and rafe was willing to do everything he could to get you there.

one particular hard thrust had send you completely over the edge, your hand coming and quickly rubbing quick circles on your already overstimulated clit had your legs shaking and your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your nails were clawing at into rafe’s arm who right behind you chasing his own orgasm. “mm, you did such a good job princess.” he pressed a soft kiss to your lips, as he gave you time to recover from your earth shattering orgasm.

that sleepy fucked out grin on your face providing every answer needed to rafe’s wavering questions. he reached over behind the back seats to grab some towels and sanitary wipes for you to clean up with after the previous incident. you hissed, which was followed up with a whimper, when rafe began to clean you up.

“i love you, especially when you fuck me like that.” you told him, you still haven’t really came down from your high yet, but you were well aware of what you were saying.

“oh really? maybe we just might have to fuck like that more often then huh.” rafe said before kissing your forehead.

“thank youuu, now can we get chic fil a?” you said as you began sliding your clothes back on.

“of course we can baby.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x female reader #black!y/n #black!reader

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

SKZ DRABBLE-Lee Minho

No one says 'no' to a God. That's what you've always been taught. But maybe, no one's just ever really had the chance. or A retelling of Poseidon and Amphitrite, if it were a little bit more modern and a lot more geared toward those of us who are total sluts for enemies to lovers. This one's for you, babe.

Tags: Skz, Stray Kids, Stay, Lee Minho, Minho, SKZ au, skz as greek gods series, lee know, minho x you, minho x reader, greek mythology, modern greek au, skz fluff, skz smut, skz angst, skz fic, skz fanfic, skz x you, skz x reader, femreader, y/n, enemies to lovers, greek gods, Poseidon

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Light Smut

Warnings: Exhibitionism, Spit as Lube, Virginal Sex

Soundtrack:

🌊 Euclid by Sleep Token 🐚 Bad Habits by Nerv

Title: Wave After Wave

"Oh my gods, he's literally the hottest man I've ever seen."

You glance up from gathering wood for the celebratory bonfire at your sister's uttered words, and follow her gaze to the man reclined by the roaring fire next to your father.

You can't quite make out his features from here-they're made wavy and indistinct by the heat of the flames-but you know he's handsome, incredibly so.

Why wouldn't he be? He's one of the fucking Big Three after all.

You say as much, scoffing under your breath with a slight smile in your besotted sister's direction.

"He's one of the major Gods, Thetis. Of course he's going to be incredibly good looking. They've been made to appeal to every single one of the five senses." You hit her ass with one of the sticks you carry, and she gives you a little glare with a pout of her lips. Your voice turns teasing. "You're no better around him than a pitiful human, weak for his charms and falling right into his traps."

She crosses her arms over her ample bosom and pouts some more, even as you shove some of the gathered wood into her waiting arms. "Well, can you blame me? We only ever see sailors here, or the minor gods, if we're lucky. But one of the Big Three?" She huffs, following after you, trying to balance the bundle of sticks as she hurries to catch up. She's slightly out of breath when she says under her breath to you, her eyes flickering back to the man beside your father once more, "And I would argue he's the best looking out of all the Big Three."

You shoot her a sharp look. "Don't let anyone hear you say that, Thetis. Father will have you punished for blasphemy."

"You cannot punish me for saying the truth." She rolls her big blue eyes, lined with long, dark lashes, and flips her blonde braid over her shoulder. Her round cherubic cheeks are pink from exertion, her red lips pursed into a perfect pout.

You'd be shocked if your father didn't do his damndest to secure Thetis the God's hand before he leaves here tonight.

You set your logs down beside the fire and catch your breath, brushing the bark from the front of your finely made dress as you glance at your younger sister once more.

"You'd better go and charm the man then, because I'm fairly certain Glauce has already staked her claim." You motion with your head to your sister, who is practically in the God's lap, her long dark hair twined around her fingers as she leans over to playfully whisper something in his ear, the seashells around her neck dipping between her bare breasts.

Thetis's eyes narrow and she pushes past you with a huff. "We'll see about that."

You watch her go with slight amusement, content to enjoy the games of tonight from afar.

You've never been interested in the Gods like your sisters, nor marriage, and you have every intention of living your life out on Naxos, dancing and remaining free for the eons.

Being tied down as a Big Three's wife, constantly scrutinized and judged, cheated on with mortals?

No fucking thank you.

You adjust one of the ornamental pins in your hair with a sigh, trying to stop it from digging into your scalp, and wish for the thousandth time that you could let your hair down.

The breeze off the sea is calling your name, and you itch to pull off this ornamental gown and untie your hair and dive into its welcoming, azure depths.

You crave the silence the deep brings.

"Daughter."

You turn at the sound of your father's call and see him approaching, his hands tucked behind his back.

You give a brief duck of your head in deference as he walks toward you, a dip of the knee to show your respect.

"Father."

He places a finger beneath your chin, guiding you back to your feet. "Rise, child. I have something I wish to discuss with you."

You wait patiently for him to continue, your gaze holding his. The breeze tugs at your skirt, twisting it around your legs, as if it's a silent invitation to follow it into the embrace of the sea.

Your father's lips lift into the hint of a smile as he strokes his hand down your cheek. "My beautiful eldest, the coveted rare pearl that adorns my crown. I always said you would be a blessing from the Gods, and I was right."

You cock your head, nodding slightly. "Thank you, father. I hope I have made you proud."

"You have, my child. You have." Your father sighs, and his eyes soften slightly as he takes you in. "As have your sisters." He glances out at the sea, his eyes following the rise and fall of the waves for a moment.

Finally, he says, "He has made a decision."

You watch him-the way his brow furrows in thought, the way his dark eyes reflect the blue of the sea-and then you reply back confidently with another duck of your head, "Thetis will make an excellent wife for him and a stunning Goddess of the Seas."

Your father meets your gaze once more, and there's something there now that unsettles you, his lips curving down seriously, his expression somber.

"It is not Thetis who has been chosen."

You stare at him, confused. "Who then? Glauce? Maera?"

You cannot imagine one of your younger vapid, vain sisters ever catching the God's attention, but stranger things have happened.

Something sad flickers across your father's face, and he reaches for your hand.

Your stomach drops at the expression.

"He has chosen you."

You feel as if you've just been barreled by the waves, thrown beneath the surface, crashed helpless over and over again against the sharp, jutting cliffs.

You can't seem to catch your breath.

You're drowning.

"What?"

Your father gives you a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Poseidon has chosen you."

🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚

Minho watches you for a moment before making his presence known, his body hidden in the shadow of the column.

This is one of his favorite versions of you-sitting beside the sea, your feet buried in the sand, your dress wet as it clings to your curves, hair down and free, tangled slightly from the salt water.

He likes to imagine this is how you looked as a child, roaming the beaches of Naxos, causing mischief, dancing barefoot into the night.

Now, you are his queen, and yet, he still sees that untameable girl in you, even till this day.

You laugh out loud and splash salt water back at one of the dolphins as it breaches near the shore, showering you with a wave of the sea, and Minho's mouth curves into an unbidden smile as he steps out from behind the pillar.

He approaches you quietly, content to watch you admire the dolphins as they breach and play, fins the color of smoke cutting through the turquoise water like butter on a warm day.

He'd known, the moment he had the mansion built, that the secret cove beneath that let him have free access to his beloved sand and sea would quickly become his favorite place to spend the time.

As soon as he'd met you, he'd known it would be your favored place of refuge as well.

You were similar in that, escaping to the sea when everything became a little bit too much.

You glance up as he approaches, giving him a smile that almost blinds him, and not for the first time, Minho can't quite believe that something so beautiful, so perfect, belongs to him.

He is much like the sea-turbulent and fickle, intimidating and dark, dangerous when provoked-and you have been the only one in eons of years that has dared swim below his surface to explore the depths beneath.

He finds himself grateful for that every single day.

He sits down in the sand behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you back against him. The salt water on your dress dampens his pants, but he can't bring himself to care, burying his nose in your hair that smells of sea and sand and sun, running his lips along the curve of your neck just to taste the salt on his tongue.

You give a little hum of approval at his touch and lean into him, and Minho chuckles.

Glancing out at the dolphins playing in the waves, Minho's lips pull up into an amused curve.

"And what have you taught your little pets today, sweetheart?"

You lean your head back against his shoulder and he admires the way your nose crinkles as you give him a teasing smile, arching a brow.

He lets a finger trace down your throat, playing with the seashell strands you wear around your neck, his cock immediately paying attention to the way they disappear between the valley of your breasts, your skin sparkling with the sea.

"Oh, you'll love this one." You chirp back, standing up as you wave to get the dolphins attention. You glance over your shoulder at him, grin turning wicked. "I've taught them to flip you off."

You raise your hand, and a few of the dolphins immediately use their tails to propel them above the waves, their sleek bodies upright as they wave their fins in tandem back at you.

Minho chuckles, standing up, his arms going around your waist once more, as he leans in to murmur against your ear, "I don't think your trick is quite as impressive as you think. They lack fingers."

You give a little shrug, and lean back against him, and there it is again, that devastating smile that leaves Minho feeling like he can't breathe, like he's just gone beneath the waves and can't resurface.

"Well, you have to use your imagination a little bit." You whisper back, expression cheeky, as you tilt your head to be able to kiss the line of his jaw.

"Oh?" Minho remarks in bemusement, his brow inching upward as he looks down at you in his arms. He takes a fingertip and traces slowly down the column of your throat, the skin he leaves in his wake shining with conjured droplets of sea water, shimmering in the afternoon sun. "I can think of a lot more things I'd rather use my imagination for right now, sweetheart."

He lets his finger dip between your breasts, and he doesn't miss the way you shiver at his touch.

His lips curve into the start of a smirk.

"Like imagining you out of all these clothes."

You pull out of his arms and turn to face him, walking backward slowly so that your feet disappear into the frothing waves of the sea, your gaze never leaving his.

Something mischievous comes across your features as you stare at him, standing knee deep in the water, your dress like a living creature wrapped around your legs, the dolphins frolicking against the sunset.

"That can be arranged." You tease him, arching a brow, as you slowly slide the dress down one of your shoulders, revealing a swath of perfect skin.

And without another word, Minho leaves the shore behind and joins you in the waves.

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

It's clear that though he may have chosen you, he doesn't like you.

Not in the slightest.

The man can't even look at you as you pull up to the mansion bordering the sea, and you're grateful-not for the first time during the drive-that he'd left the Stingray's old fashioned top down so that instead of focusing on the oppressive silence between the two of you, you could hear nothing but the wind whipping in your ears, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

The hum of the car purrs to a stop as he parks in some sort of underground garage cut into the seaside cliffs, and you're not certain whether you should let yourself out or wait for his move.

He doesn't look at you, or seem in a hurry to leave the car, so you remain still, your hands folded in your lap, your eyes ahead.

Fuck, this is awkward.

What does one say to an all powerful God that has just taken them-unwillingly, you might add-from the only home and family they've ever known?

Fuck if you know.

You clear your throat, and decide that if he won't break the silence, you will.

"If I may-" You start to say, startled to a stop when he gets out of the car abruptly, not even bothering to look in your direction as he stands.

"You'll be shown to your room. You'll be expected for dinner every evening at 8 sharp. It's on the veranda overlooking the sea, your maid will show you where. Feel free to go where you will, just don't go alone."

It's like he's talking to the wall, his hand on the open door, his eyes on anything else but you.

You feel the anger from earlier bubble upward into your throat as you regard his obvious disdain.

You reach for your own doorhandle.

"You've brought me all the way from Naxos, and I know no one here. Certainly you're not just going to leave me alone on our first night together-"

"I have work to do." He says coldly, cutting you off, and without another glance, shuts his door, before stalking off toward the stairs that must lead up into the mansion above.

You stare after his retreating form in shock for a moment, before you growl beneath your breath and get out of the car, moving to open the trunk where your luggage is stowed.

"Fine." You hiss beneath your breath. "I'll see myself to my room then."

And in that very moment, you decide you will ask the Great God Poseidon, one of the Big Three, for nothing so long as you both shall live.

It's going to be one long fucking eternity.

🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚

He doesn't like it.

He doesn't like how you make him feel unsettled, as if every inch of control he's ever struggled to gain in his own damned, immortal existence is thrown out the window as soon as you walk into the room.

He's had to claw his way here, to where he is now, in charge of his own life, in charge of his own sea, and he doesn't intend to lose that, not now or not ever, and definitely not because of a pair of fucking beautiful doe eyes.

He'd known it as soon as he saw you-dancing with your sisters on your father's little island-that he was never going to escape your grasp.

You hadn't even looked at him, for gods' sake, hadn't even given him a moment of your attention, and he was instantly bewitched.

And Minho did not bewitch easily.

And now, here you were, in his house, in his domain, soon to be in his bed, and he was absolutely fucking terrified of what that meant.

You were his, and he didn't know if he could fucking handle that.

"Fuck." He swears beneath his breath, running his hands through his hair in an agitated motion, his elbows resting on his knees as he sits, collapsed in the sand.

The night is muggy, the warm air heavy with the saltiness of sea water, and he stares at the dark crests of the waves, rising and falling like a giant being breathing peacefully in slumber.

His fingers find a shell in the sand next to him, and he hurls it into the waves, watching as it disappears beneath the surface in a ring of ripples.

The water is reflecting the stars of the night sky back to him on its surface, and it feels as if he's sitting in the middle of a constellation, but his head is no clearer than when he first left the mansion for the cove beneath.

His mind wanders to you-are you settling in for the night? Your perfect skin sliding between the silk of the sheets as you curl up in the middle of the large bed, alone?

He wonders, briefly, what your hair looks like when it's not ornamentally pinned, what you wear when you sleep, how your face looks crinkled and barely awake in the morning.

He wonders how it would feel to hear you say his name-not his name gifted by the mortals, but his given name-in a murmur against his skin, your perfect breasts free from the sheer material of your dress, your hands, or gods forbid, your lips, on his aching cock-

"Fuck." He swears again, more vehemently this time, and falls back against the cool sand, staring at the jagged rocks overhead.

He can't lose his cool every time he sees you, he's worked too damn hard to get where he's at, and he's a fucking god for hell's sake. He needs to pull it together and stop thinking with his dick.

It's going to be one long fucking eternity.

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"You know-" You remark offhandedly as you glance out over the sea, red from the setting sun. You can smell the salt in the air, courtesy of the Stingray's open top, and the warm air whips your hair as Minho speeds along the deserted oceanside highway.

Minho glances over at you, a slight curve of amusement to his lips, a silent signal for you to go on, as he maneuvers the sports car around a curve.

You let your fingers float outside the open window, weaving along in the breeze like a dolphin skimming and jumping through the waves.

"-I hear skinny dipping is even better at night."

Minho chuckles, the sound low beneath the rush of the wind. "Oh? Who told you that?"

You shrug, biting back a smile, as you admire the way the nail polish glints on your fingers in the rosy tint of the sun, the flash of the pearl on your ring finger.

"A little fish."

Minho gives you another amused look, but it's clearly exasperated, his brow arching. "You're not getting out of this party, you know."

You sigh and let your head fall back against the seat.

"Well fuck."

Minho chuckles again, and reaches over with his free hand to rest the warmth of his palm on your thigh, his other hand easily maneuvering the car through the twists and turns of the road.

He gives your thigh a little squeeze, and you glance down at his hand-the tan, smooth skin, the rise and fall of his knuckles, the perfectly trimmed nails.

Your eyes flick to his other hand on the wheel-the golden glint of his wedding band contrasting the strip of inlaid pearl that matches your own.

Your skin heats underneath his touch, even though the fabric of your dress acts as a barrier.

It's a thin, flimsy barrier at most.

"I promised Hyunjin we'd be there." Minho sighs regretfully, and you know he's dreading this soiree just as much as you are, even more so. "But I swear to you, sweetheart, after this, no more parties for another decade."

You give a little laugh and squeeze his hand. "I'm going to hold you to that, your highness."

Minho smiles, his gaze moving down to your hand resting over his own. His eyes catch on the wedding ring you wear, and he raises your hand to his lips, brushing a light, lingering kiss across your knuckles.

"I know you will."

Your gaze drifts back longingly to the sea, fingers still encased in the warmth of his own.

Minho gives your thigh another squeeze, and when you turn to look at him once more, he gives you a dangerous smirk, perfect teeth flashing and dark eyes glinting.

"However, skinny dipping is never off the table, sweetheart. So trust me when I say I'll be holding you to that too."

You grin back at him.

"I would expect nothing less from the God of the Seas."

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Dinners with Minho are unbearable.

You spend the majority of your time on the veranda watching the waves crest in watercolor beneath the setting sun, the sleek, almost apparition like forms of the dolphins darting in and out of the frothing foam.

He never talks, and you never ask.

It's easier to eat in silence and excuse yourself to your room for the rest of the night while your new husband disappears gods knows where to do gods knows what.

Tonight, the dolphins are especially playful, leaping and chittering to each other, and you find yourself watching them longingly, wishing you could be as free as they seem to be, bound to no one and nothing.

The sound of a fork scraping obnoxiously across a plate draws your attention back to the table, and Minho is watching you, his expression unreadable, fork held loosely in his hand, his empty plate before him.

You hold his gaze, refusing to back down, as you set your own fork down next to your barely touched food.

His features remain blank as he wipes his mouth with the linen of his napkin, the maid scurrying in to quickly clear his empty place.

You've never noticed, but his eyes are dark-dark and stormy like the sea at night-and they're uncharacteristically cold, no warmth lurking in their depths.

"Do you like them?" He asks suddenly, voice flat, almost uninterested, as he waves away another servant approaching with more wine in a decanter.

You stare at him, schooling your expression. "Like what?"

You know you're addressing him casually, you should watch yourself-he's your husband and a god-but you can't seem to bring yourself to care in the face of his aloofness.

He won't give you anything, so you won't give him anything either.

He lets his gaze scan your face, giving nothing away, then motions with a glance toward the sea below.

"The dolphins."

You give a little shrug and glance down at your food, scraping it around your plate. You have no appetite suddenly, not when you can feel Minho's gaze boring into your skull.

"They're beautiful. The freedom and joy they possess intrigues me."

"Then you can have them."

You jerk your gaze back up to his in surprise, your mouth dropping slightly open, but he's already pushed back from the table, no longer looking at you, as he motions for one of the maids to begin to clear the table.

"I have work to do. You may retire when you are ready." His voice is emotionless, and he doesn't spare you another glance, as he turns and strides away.

You watch him go, anger beginning to bubble in the pit of your stomach. Your mouth tastes of bile.

'Then you can have them.'

He thinks he can just give living creatures to another just like that? Like they're property? Like they're his to own? Like they do not already belong to the sea?

Fuck him.

You push back from the table angrily and fling your napkin on the ground.

If he thinks he can give and take that which is not his, was never his, so easily, then you'd like to see him try.

You are not so easily tamed.

And it was time he knew.

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"I've never seen him this happy."

You hide a smile behind the rim of your glass as you take a sip of your drink, following Hera's gaze to Minho where he stands across the room, discussing something with his brothers.

He looks fucking delicious tonight-dressed smartly in a navy three piece suit, his thick, dark hair smoothed back, his sun kissed skin golden beneath the lights.

Maybe these parties aren't a complete waste of time after all.

"What can I say?" You muse as you let your gaze fall back to Hera beside you, a smile gracing your lips now. "I'm good for him."

She gives a little tinkling laugh, raising her glass to meet your own with a gentle clink of cheers.

"I'll drink to that."

You take another long sip of your drink, and when you look up once more, Minho's gaze catches your own from across the room.

You arch a brow in response and mouth silently to him, already knowing the answer, Having fun?

He gives a slight shake of his head with a roll of his eyes, and you grin.

He holds your gaze, and with a miniscule movement, tilts his head to the side, his eyebrows raising in a silent question, as a smirk curves his lips.

You turn to Hera, setting your now empty glass down beside hers on the table, and touching her arm lightly to draw her attention.

"I'm going to use the little goddesses room."

She nods, turning back to her conversation with Aphrodite, and you excuse yourself from the room, noting that Minho's already managed to slip away from his own conversation on the other side of the room.

He's nowhere in sight.

The sounds of the party fade away as you slip out of the gaudy ballroom and make your way down the quiet hallway.

You're just passing the large, glass doors that look outside onto the darkened veranda and sprawling garden, when he finds you, coming out from the shadows and startling you slightly, his hands going on either side of your head as he traps you against the wall.

"Jesus, Min." You breathe out, your muscles relaxing, as you try your best to glare up at him. "Give a girl some warning."

His teeth flash as he grins in response, the expression dangerous, his dark eyes meeting yours in a predatory fashion.

"Where's the fun in that?" He murmurs back, as he lifts a hand to play with a strand of your hair, his fingers brushing over the seashell comb you wear. "I like when your hair is down."

You tilt your head back against the wall and look up at him, a smirk flickering across your lips. "Should've thought of that before you RSVPed us to this stupid party." You tease in a low voice.

Minho lets out a sigh. "Yeah well, I have duties and so do you, but right now-" His eyes darken, his body pressing into yours, flattening you against the wall at your back. "-right now it's just you and I, sweetheart."

"And about a hundred other people just in the other room." You retort back, reaching up to straighten the shell broach pinned to his suit jacket.

"Fuck them." Minho growls, leaning forward to run his nose up your throat, and you tilt your head back to give him better access as he begins to suck kisses into the skin beneath your jaw. "They can miss us for a couple of minutes."

"Speaking of hair-" You breathe out, as he continues to litter your skin methodically with love bites, his teeth making your skin tingle and your breath catch.

You reach up and run your fingers through his dark tresses, loosening the gel and mussing the strands until they fall around his face. You let salt water coat your fingertips, dampening your skin and wetting his hair until it looks as if he's just been for a swim.

"-I like yours best when it's wet."

Minho pulls back to smirk at you, his brow arched, his eyes dark.

"I like you best when you're wet, sweetheart. Especially for me."

You hold his gaze, his words sending fire like heat skittering across every inch of your skin.

"Well, then you're going to love what you find between my thighs."

"Oh?" Minho's smirk grows, his pupils blowing at your words. He leans into your space, pressing you back against the wall once more, his knee going between your legs to nudge them apart. "Show me then."

You hold his gaze, reaching down to lift your dress to give him access. His eyes never leave yours as he leans forward, and slides a hand between your upper thighs.

You let out a stuttered gasp when he touches you, and you can feel the way you instantly coat his fingers, and it crosses your mind that maybe you should be embarrassed at how worked up he's already gotten you without even touching you, but you can't be, not when Minho pulls his fingers back and studies the shiny, sticky skin like it's one of the seven wonders of the mortals' modern world.

"Beautiful." He murmurs beneath his breath, still watching the way your slick slides down his fingers as if entranced.

You admire him for a moment, admiring you, and then your lips curve upward into the start of an amused smile.

"I suppose I do not need to mention the irony of a Sea God being obsessed with fluids?"

Minho's dark eyes flick to you, his fingers still raised. He arches a brow.

"You do not." He replies back pointedly, and then, holding your gaze, bends his middle finger so that he can dip it between his lips, licking it clean of your juices with even, long strokes of his tongue.

You clench your thighs together, suddenly in desperate need of friction as you watch him slowly, methodically clean his fingers, all the while, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Although-" He muses, pinning you beneath his heated gaze, his lips curving up into the hint of a smirk as he sees the flush of your cheeks, the subtle movements of your legs. "-if given the choice, I would choose you over the sea any day."

You shake your head teasingly, as he backs you up a few steps further down the hallway, away from the party in the ballroom, stalking you like a big cat, his movements lithe and fluid.

"That's shocking, coming from you."

"It's true though." He insists in a low tone, before he cages you in once more, his hands coming down forcefully on either side of your head, making you jump. "Every word of it."

Without warning, he slides his hands down your body and palms your ass before he lifts you up, fingers digging into the backs of your thighs.

You give a little yelp, and cling to him, your arms going around his neck for support.

He looks up at you, his eyes the color of the sea before a storm, and the sudden hungry look on his sharp features makes you shiver.

"Now. Be a good girl, sweetheart, and let me feel how wet you are for me from the inside."

He pushes your skirts aside, and hefts you a little higher into his arms.

You gasp when you realize for the first time as he shifts you, that your back is no longer pressed against the solidarity of the wall, no, your back is pressed against the cold pane of a window-the French doors to the garden.

"Minho." You hiss, struggling in his arms a little bit now. "Someone will see."

"Let them." He growls back, his voice sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine, before he bucks his hips and sheaths himself fully inside of you in one smooth motion.

You cry out, your back arching and your head falling back against the glass, safe to let your body react how it will in the strong embrace of Minho's arms.

"Fuck." You pant out, your hands tangling into his hair, as he continues to thrust in steady strokes.

"Oh gods-" He groans gutturally, his fingers digging into your thighs, keeping you in place. He looks up at you through dark strands of hair, his lips parted, as if he can't quite catch his breath, as if you're the most beautiful, wonderful thing he's ever seen.

When he speaks again, his voice is hoarse, his words punctuated by harsh gasps that match his rhythm.

"Fuck, sweetheart. There's no one, no one-mortal or God-who can instantly make me lose every last shred of control like you can."

You tug on his hair to make him meet your eyes as both of your lips part in pleasure.

"Does that scare you?" You breathe out, your chest rising and falling as you heave for breath.

His lips curve upward into the start of a smile, and his voice takes on a tone of amused honesty that rings through your very being.

"Not anymore."

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It fucking terrifies him.

This thing you possess that makes him lose his mind, his every last thought, his final shreds of dignity and willpower.

But he doesn't know how to control it-or himself-and that scares him. So instead, he's avoided you, and obsessed until his feelings have grown sour, and forced a wedge between you that might never break.

It's easier to deal with you as an enemy from afar than someone who has the power to destroy him right?

It's been eight weeks-two months-of silent dinners, but who's counting?

He glances at you down the table-a table much too big for two people-and notes the way your eyes scan the horizon, looking for the dolphins.

Stupid fucking dolphins.

You've never once looked at him the way you look at those creatures, but then again, has he ever really given you reason to?

He clears his throat, and before he can talk himself out of it, announces, setting aside his fork, "I have work that must be seen to. Enjoy your evening."

He stands, pushing back his chair, and turns to leave, but before he can escape, you say, without turning your head, "Stimulating dinner conversation as always, husband. I so enjoy our time together."

He freezes, and something akin to annoyance bubbles in his chest as he stares at you, refusing to look at him, your eyes fixed on the sea.

"To have a conversation with one another, wife, requires you to engage in one." He replies back coolly, watching you for your next reaction.

He's not disappointed.

You whirl to face him, eyes flashing with anger, hands going into fists on top of the table.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was unaware you wanted anything to do with me, and I certainly didn't know you wanted to speak with me."

Minho grinds his teeth, and he feels a muscle clench and flicker in his jaw as he regards you.

He shouldn't flame the fire, but he's intrigued by this side of you, this fight, and interacting is interacting, regardless of the tone of the words being said.

"Forgive me, but I am not one of your precious dolphins, so I merely assumed you would find my company boring and droll."

His tone is sharp, goading, seething.

You stand, shoving your chair back so forcefully that it tips over onto the cobblestone, and glare him down with the force of a thousand suns.

If he were not a God, Minho probably would've been dead.

"I hate you."

He feels his lips curve upward into the start of a taunting sneer as he leans over the table toward you, palms flat against the cloth.

"Oh? Do you? Careful there, sweetheart, the line between hate and love is no thicker than the edge of a sharpened dagger."

"Oh, there is no mistaking the feelings I have for you. I hate everything about you." You spit back, words sharp and pointed.

Minho settles back down into his seat casually, crossing his leg over his knee. He sees surprise flicker across your expression, before the fury takes over once more.

He motions for you to go on with a wave of his hand. "Go on then. Tell me all the things you hate about me. I do love a good discussion." He leans forward and makes a show of listening, his chin propped on his fist.

He sees the way it pisses you off, and it makes something inside of him lurch.

Your gaze is hard as you begin.

"I hate your arrogance. I hate the way that you just assume that everyone-mortal and god alike-want to fall at your feet."

Minho watches you, the way your chest heaves with impassioned breaths as you lean forward across the table toward him, the way your hair is falling loose from the carefully curated style he's sure your maids spent hours on that morning.

He prefers it down.

His cock pays attention to the way your breasts fall heavily when you lean, the open neck of the dress you wear gaping open, revealing the necklace of seashells dipping between your cleavage.

Focus.

You narrow your glare in on him, and Minho realizes you've begun speaking once more while he was distracted.

"I hate the fact that you make me come to these goddamn dinners every night, just so you can make me into a fool."

He arches a brow. "Well, I hate the fact that you agree to come to dinner, if you're simply not going to even try to engage in conversation with me."

Your expression grows murderous.

"You have never once shown any interest in speaking to or getting to know me! Not once!" You fire back, eyes flashing. "And that brings me to my next point-I hate that you dragged me here, away from my home, away from my family, just to lock yourself away in your office and not even have the honor or decency to show me even an ounce of kindness!"

Minho feels himself start to grow irritated as your voice rises in volume, and your anger flare.

He clenches his teeth and breathes out slowly, staring you down.

"Honor and decency?" He repeats back, his tone cold, his words firm. "Kindness? When has the world-or the Fates for that matter-ever been kind? I hate that you are so naive that you would think the world would be handed to you like a polished pearl within an oyster. This is not Naxos."

"I hate the way you talk down to me, belittle me, as if I am a sheltered little girl who knows nothing." You retort back, staring him right back down. "I am a goddess of the sea, and now your queen, and you would do well to treat me as such."

He feels his lips twist upward into a humorless smile.

"Oh? Is that so? If you were a queen, you would not be addressing me in such a way, which in turn, proves my point that you indeed know nothing of the world."

"Bullshit." You hiss through clenched teeth. "Your views on life-and marriage-are dated and archaic."

Minho arches a brow. "Interesting. Do tell me more about my own views, sweetheart."

Minho watches the way you clench your hand into a fist, your knuckles whitening.

"I hate when you call me sweetheart."

"And I hate when you're contrary just for the sake of being contrary, sweetheart." Minho retorts right back.

You glare across the table at him.

"I'm not fucking doing this." You finally growl out, before you turn your back on him and head for the winding stairs that lead off the veranda, and down to the hidden cove below.

Minho follows you, his steps right behind yours.

When you reach the beach, you whirl on him, fury written across your features.

Minho stops, but he doesn't back down.

"What else?" He goads, watching you carefully.

You stare at him for a long, hard moment, and then he sees you take in a forceful breath.

"I hate the way you hold a fork. And that you decorated my room in jewel tones and that you've never even once asked me if I prefer my coffee with or without sugar. I hate the way the same exact muscle flickers in your jaw every single time when you're holding in your irritation about something."

Minho smirks. "Oh? Is that all?"

"No." You retort back immediately, holding his amused gaze. "I also hate the way your hair always looks like you've just come in off the sea-tousled and damp. I hate the fact that you wear white button down shirts so casually, and I hate that I've noticed that one of your cheeks dimples slightly when you smile."

Minho stares at you for a moment, caught off guard.

You take the opportunity to barrel on, stepping closer to him, your bare feet digging into the wet sand.

"I hate that I know that you prefer when I wear my hair down, because I've seen the way you look at me when it's not done, and I absolutely fucking hate that I care in the slightest what you think of me."

The sea crashes wave after wave behind you, as if agreeing with your tirade.

Minho stares at you some more, completely unsure of what to say.

"I hate-" You take in a deep, gulping breath, and your expression sobers a little, the fury ebbing slightly. "-more than anything, that you have an effect me, I hate the way my body betrays me when you're around, the way my heart pounds, the way I look for you in a room when I enter, even though I know you won't be there."

Minho swallows.

"I hate the way you say my name-not the name I was given as a goddess, but my name-and the sparks I feel dance across my skin when I hear it on your tongue."

You sigh, and glance down at the sand at your feet, your toes dug beneath.

"But do you want to know what I hate most of all?" You ask, in a quiet voice, as if you're not really asking Minho, more just putting it out into the universe.

So he doesn't answer, just watching you, waiting for you to continue.

The waves crash against the shore, and when you look at him, your eyes have darkened, no longer with anger, but with regret.

"I hate, more than anything, that I can't make myself hate you."

Minho stares, all the words he was preparing dying on his lips, his brain buzzing.

You don't-hate him?

Fuck, maybe, that means-

He doesn't allow himself to finish that thought.

Surging forward, like the impatient sea at high tide, Minho crashes his lips into yours, and you stumble with the surprise force of it, both of you tumbling down into the soft, wet sand.

Minho doesn't stop, pressing you backward into the shore, his lips like fire on your own.

You let out a soft little gasp of surprise against his mouth, but you don't push him away, and he experimentally dips his tongue between the part of your lips.

Your breath audibly hitches, and the sound goes straight to Minho's dick.

Fuck, you're just as responsive as he had imagined you would be.

Carefully, he lets his hand trace down the arch of your neck, the line of your shoulder, and he hesitates for a brief moment of unsurety, before he lets his palm cup the swell of your breast.

You arch your body up into his touch, and open your mouth wider for his tongue, letting out a little whine as he begins to massage your breast.

"Fuck." Minho breathes out against your mouth, pulling back slightly so he can stare down at you splayed beneath him on the sand, your hair loose, your lips raw.

Its the fucking most beautiful sight he's ever seen.

He lets his hand trace down the line of your hip, your thigh, to the material of your skirt, wet now with sea water, sticking to your skin.

He has the sudden crazy urge to slip a hand beneath the material and see just how wet you are for himself.

Instead, he glances up at you, watching him carefully, and murmurs in the form of some start of a question, "Can I-?"

You nod, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, and Minho wants to reach up and free the plump skin from its constraints.

He doesn't, because before he can move, you say softly, "You don't have to be gentle with me. I know what this entails."

He follows the length of your body back upward, until, he's straddling you again, his hands sinking into the wet sand on either side of your head.

He looks down at you and sees your nervousness in the way your forehead crinkles slightly, the way you obstinately suck on your bottom lip.

Fuck, maybe there's a few tiny things he's let himself notice about you too in the weeks he's done his due diligence of avoiding you.

"You've been prepared?" He asks, still watching you carefully.

You nod again. "Yes. Our governesses. They said-"

You hesitate, and Minho feels his heart leap into his throat.

"They said what?"

You glance away, avoiding his gaze, and pink rises in your cheeks.

Minho doesn't think he's ever seen you embarrassed before.

"They said it might hurt." You whisper back, still not looking at him, your eyes focused too intently on the way your fingers, stretched out at your side, dig into the sand in anxious movements.

Minho blows out a breath.

"It might." He admits quietly, and you flick your gaze up to his, and he sees determination still your features. "But, did they also tell you then, that if done right, it can be extremely pleasurable for you?"

You cock your head, holding his gaze. "No. They said that you-"

"Fuck me." Minho immediately shakes his head, even though the words make his already unbearably hard cock ache.

He leans closer to you, his nose brushing yours. He can smell the salt water in your hair, see the way your pupils blow at his nearness.

He watches the way your throat bobs with a swallow, and brings his hand up to your cheek, stroking a fingertip along your jaw, glistening with sea water.

"I want to wring your body of every ounce of pleasure imaginable before I even think about satisfying myself."

Your lips part in surprise at his fervently uttered statement, and Minho smirks, staring down at you-the way your chest has started to heave with your breaths, the way you're squirming slightly beneath him.

Signs of arousal. Arousal for him.

He brings his hand up to his mouth, and holding your gaze, spits into his palm, wetting his fingers slowly, one by one, as you watch.

"You're wet." He remarks offhandedly, and he pointedly gazes down at your dress, the water puddling beneath your hips from the waves lapping at the shore.

You stare back at him and give a little hum of assent in your throat in reagards to his observation. "Mmm."

"Tell me, sweetheart-" He expects you to prickle at the nickname, but you don't, your eyes instead darkening at the way the syllables roll off his tongue. "-are you wet in other places?"

You inhale sharply, and Minho practically groans when your eyes flicker to his.

"Yes."

His lips curve into the start of a smirk. "I thought so."

He slides his hand down your body once more-the one he'd wet moments before-and moving slowly to give you a chance to change your mind, slips his fingers beneath the drenched material of your skirt.

When he touches the wet heat between your upper thighs, you both inhale sharply in tandem.

"Fuck, you weren't kidding." Minho groans, leaning forward on the one hand he still has planted in the sand, as he carefully begins to explore you with a finger at a time. "Wet enough to drown in."

"Minho-" You gasp out, arching your body up into his and putting delicious friction on his cock, as he cautiously works you open. "Fucking gods above. Shit."

Minho's lips curl up into an amused smirk as profanities continue to fall from your lips in an unending, pleasure driven stream.

"You know, for such a pretty little thing, you have an incredibly filthy mouth, sweetheart." He remarks, making you gasp and jolt as he curls a finger experimentally.

He wants to memorize the way you look up at him in this moment, your vision hazed with pleasure, your expression soft.

"I grew up in the presence of sailors." You reply back with a slight shrug, as Minho pauses, taking you in. "Does it bother you?"

He arches a brow, leaning forward to put his lips against your ear, and as he does so, he adds another finger, making you whimper and squirm beneath him.

"On the contrary, sweetheart. I could listen to you sing my praises in profanities for the rest of my immortal life."

"Minho, please-" You beg, your hands tracing up his body, your body writhing in the damp sand.

He stares down at you. "Please what?"

"Please, just give me more."

His lips curve, and his dick throbs at your desperate plea.

He would love nothing more.

"You and I are like the sea, sweetheart. The waves never cease. There is always more to give. And I swear to you, if I have to spend the rest of my eons exploring every single inch of you, I will gladly do so. Over, and over, and over again. Wave, after wave, after wave."

You bite back a smile as you stare up at him.

"I hate that you're so dedicated."

He smirks.

"And I, sweetheart, hate that I ever believed myself capable of staying away from you. I intend to remedy my mistake every single day from here on out."

🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚

You lean back against Minho's bare chest, admiring the way the sunset plays off of the waves, your mind quiet and your body content against the warmth of the sand.

You feel him press a kiss against the crown of your wet hair, and you glance up at him, arching a brow as you ask softly, "What was that for?"

He glances down at you, amusement in his dark eyes. "I have to have a reason to kiss my wife?"

You give a little shrug and bite back a smile. "No, I guess not."

He angles his head to press a kiss to your lips, lingering for a moment. You can taste the salt on his tongue, the sun warming his mouth.

He tastes like the sea.

He pulls back, and you grin at him. "I just find that you usually have a reason for everything."

Minho rolls his eyes. "I hate that you think I can't just be spontaneous."

"And I hate that you stopped kissing me." You quip back playfully, and he growls, leaning over to kiss you again, wrestling you back into his arms as you giggle and squirm against the sand.

"There. Happy?" He asks when you separate once more.

You glance up at him, and raise a hand, letting sea water coat your fingers as you push back his hair.

"Incredibly."

His expression softens, and he leans in to kiss you once more, hand tangling into your hair to tug you to him.

You'd worn it down. It was his favorite after all.

Out at sea, against the setting sun, a dolphin breaches.

#skz #stray kids #stay #lee minho #lee know #minho #skz x you #skz x reader #femreader #y/n #lee minho x you #minho x you #minho x reader #skz smut #skz fluff #skz angst #greek gods #poseidon #skz au #greek gods au #skz fic #skz fanfic #fic #fanfic #amphitrite #minho x y/n #skz imagines #skz reactions #skz scenarios

[dead-dove-yandere]

OC Intro - Noah

Voyeur Yandere

Male ♡ 21 ♡ Human ♡ NEET

TW: Stalking, non-consensual photography, voyeurism, obsession

♡ - By all accounts, he’s a nobody, a loser. A former latchkey kid with an emotionally absent family, no friends, constantly teased and bullied growing up.

♡ - All he had to satisfy his need for connection was the ever growing collection of horror films.

♡ - Everyday after school, he’d watch them over and over, taking pictures of his favourite actors and actresses from magazines and posters and carefully pasting them into scrapbooks for him to worship later.

♡ - He’d spend all of class daydreaming about meeting all his favourite stars and how they’d love him, not ignore or mistreat him like everyone else in his life.

♡ - He barely managed to graduate high school and afford a small apartment, with nothing but a mattress on the floor, piles of his movies and a cheap portable DVD player to watch them on.

♡ - He only just manages to scrape by, scrounging up enough each month to pay his bills. With no job and no social life, he falls into a spiral of depression.

♡ - Until he met his darling. You.

♡ - Dragging himself to the convenience store one evening to search for dinner, he saw you, practically glowing under the fluorescent lights and he knew he had to do absolutely anything to worship you.

♡ - It started small, frequenting that same store in hopes of seeing you again. Then he escalated. He scoped out other shops you went to. Collected receipts that fell from your pocket. He scoped out where you live and stood outside, trying to find the best angle to peer into your bedroom window.

♡ - With what little money he was able to scrounge up he bought a camera and started taking photos of you surreptitiously, first through your bedroom window, then from afar at your place of work, and eventually even from right behind you as you walk down the street, once he plucks up the courage.

♡ - Every photo is treasured, loving printed, cut out and pasted into his scrapbook just like all of his favourite movie stars.

♡ - It isn’t long before he starts filming you too. With no job of his own, he has all the time in the world to secretly follow you and film your every move before burning the footage to a disc and watching it over and over - his own found footage horror film.

♡ - He can’t wait to meet his favourite star. For now he’s too shy to try to introduce himself. But for now, perhaps it’s better he loves you through the screen. It’s what he knows after all.

♡ - But soon, he’ll make his move - after all, he wants nothing more than to show you all his favourite films.

♡ - He’s a sopping wet pathetic loser of a nobody, but he’ll be damned if he isn’t going to ensure that he is your sopping wet pathetic loser.

Personality

Noah is a NEET, prone to bouts of low self esteem, but he is easily motivated by his darling. He worships and reveres his darling like they were a deity, the same way he obsesses over film stars and celebrities, who he used to get attached to as a teen. He’s shy and feels it’s a lot easier to just watch his darling, whether it be through the thousands of photos and hours of footage he’s amassed or whether it be engaging through voyeurism more directly. That being said, he dreams of finally working up to courage to talk to his darling, and take them back to his apartment, even if he is embarrassed about how bare it is. He’s obsessive, devoted and utterly pathetic and would bend over backwards to please his darling even if it would hurt him. He’d do almost anything - except let his darling go, of course. A lovesick puppy of a yandere, completely in denial about anything being wrong whatsoever.

This is my first time writing something like this! I hope it is okay!

More OC intros and writing involving my characters will be coming soon - I plan to open requests for the first time once I have built up a larger catalog of stories and OCs :))

Dividers Credit: See Pinned Post

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere fic #yandere imagines #yancore #oc intro #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc intro #Noah #stalker #stalking #tw stalking #tw stalker #gender neutral reader #soft yandere #Meet Cute #Story

[1-49]

성찬 : Feeling every bit of this neon midnight that has filled my veins.

ᴘᴀʀɪɴɢ: jung sungchan × f!reader

❝ In which you catch the interest of a handsome stranger at the party, and he embarks on a night-long odyssey in order to validate this* awkward attraction, he strongly believes you both feel.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: romance, some fluff, suggestive; strangers to ? slowburn one-night stand kinda?

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 13k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: +18 i drag a lot in this sry. tiny bit of pinning; real tense and awkward energy; flirting; mixed signals; sungchan is messy; in a sense, he’s both confident yet appears doubtful and insecure at times. stolen kiss ups implied hot moments/dialogue lines. few magic scenes

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: no joke im obsessed with sungchan. this has also progressively made me grow more in love with him he’s so effortlessly lovley & funny, my introvert ass could never! the energy? the personality?? like, no broo stop! i envy him sm. his way with words too...

also any feedback, reblog, or support of any kind will be appreciated. tysm, and enjoy!

A fine night, or so you thought, a showcase of stars in the sky. And while you are admiring the display of lights, in the middle of your peace, you hear the echo of an intruder ──── the sound of someone demanding to get in.

Who would be so brave? Who is willing to leave a party in order to get to you?

U let it pull u closer to the stars, this stranger’s energy that shifts the gears in your head. A stubborn being! Can’t he have a bit of patience? What could possibly be so urgent? What could he possibly be looking to discuss? As far as you know, the rave is inside, not outside.

[22:22] You wish you could describe the magnetic pull you felt just moments ago. 

[20:20] In keeping with the occasion, you took great care to make sure you felt and looked your best for your friend’s celebration. You chose a black outfit in accordance with the principle of seeking style through simple tones. Simple wide pants, a velvety sleeveless top, an open back, and some crystals hanging from your ears are enough elegancy to captivate someone. A desire for someone else’s eyes.

[22:23] Moreover, you are trying to make sense of the situation once you get to the balcony, relieved that no one is there to disturb your peace.

Sungchan’s intention, however, was never to make you uncomfortable. 

[21:45] On the other end of the room, he had already skimmed everything and everyone, not because he was that type of character, but because he was bored and new to the scene, and his inner extrovert was urging him to go find someone to befriend as soon as possible.

The options were plentiful at the scene, and the liquor in his hand resolved through his system a little faster, making him less rational in his decision. That is how your presence from the other side of the room alone helped him—some mysterious, indescribable force drawing him in.

You… 

Sungchan could not figure out why his gaze kept circling the room, passing from one person to the next but always returning to you. He rapidly became solely focused on you. The way you discuss something so profound with your friend makes him think it must be something so interesting and intriguing; the way it has you so invested in the matter undeniably gets him a little curious, secretly wishing to be in the same position your friend enjoys you. Simply put, the indulgence that you are in causes him to become greedy.

The way you smile now and then, the way your teeth graze your perfectly glazed lips, the way your earrings sway—there is just something about you that never ceases to attract his attention.

As a result, he does something about it.

You…

You notice his heated stare at you from afar and across the room—hell-bent, dense, and begging for you.

Sungchan does not immediately offer you a smile, nor does he try to be flirtatious in his gaze, but he absorbs you with such passion, concentration, and keenness that it honestly begins to make you feel super uneasy. You are having trouble reading him. 

Thus, as you start to pay more and more attention to him, things start to gradually work in his favor. This also begins to fill you with an odd sense of thrill, and before you know it, you are champing at the bit.

That tummy twirl as the eye-string between you works like a live-wire. Sungchan, lazily propped against the wall, significantly taller than anyone, and with such a pretty yet tempting set of eyes, and with the intimacy you share with him, easily begins to excite and scare you at the same time.

He possesses a spark that straddles the line between danger and enchantment. And sometimes you try to casually shift your eyesight and abandon the site, but the response you get when you return your gaze, which you always do, is that of a wounded animal.

Such a ‘casual’ face that molds into a hot one, then softens and becomes dear in a matter of minutes that whatever you two exchange quickly involuntary culminates in your breaking. Seeing him with his brows tied and slightly pouting, needy and greedy as to why you would try to wonder and abandon him even for a little, is a sight that makes your tummy clench at nothing.

You wish you were strong enough to respond to his request, whatever it is—like holding his stare until your confidence crumbles and he subdues you, or holding his stare until he is truly bored of you and can move on to the next victim.

And, because you are unprepared for any of this and are getting gagged by the space that is gradually getting more packed, you decide to dip the party in order to get some fresh air flowing through your brain.

[22:22] You are leaning over the metal rail, trying to inhale all of the lost air from earlier, and for a brief moment, you feel yourself again, relieved that you are still holding on to that sliver of confidence you promised yourself before this event even began. But the way this complete stranger was erecting himself around you had almost brought everything you had sworn to a halt.

You consider the view from the balcony to be ‘perfectly splended.’ Neon lights make love and oppose the monotonous yet sparkling dark blue sky above you on a very cold December night.

You shiver as you realize you are skin-naked against the harshness of the cold air. It is icy cold, but you are trying to ignore it for the time being. To your advantage, you try to enjoy the solitude of being alone; the tranquility of falling snow is far more appealing than the warmth of the place inside.

True, the bitter cold could not scold you out of there, so someone else had to. You are irritated when you hear the glass door slide, but you do not turn back because you know this one, whoever it is, is coming for your peace. 

A pair of hands approaches the rail, and in you sight of vision you notice the grip is somewhat firm, but you do not attempt to acknowledge this person’s presence. Not because you are cruel or ignorant, but because you simply do not feel like it right now. Someone disturbed your peace while you were seeking refuge; it is understandable to be agitated.

“Are you not freezing here?”

The ferocity with which this intruder delivers his words reveals that it is not only his hands that are strong but also his sweet, ’somewhat’ deep voice. It is enigmatic that you are not allowing yourself to be more selfish toward him; he craves your attention, and you provide it.

“I do not mind,” you say as you turn to face him and realize it is him.

“Obviously, your skin tells a different story,” he observes.

And who gave his eyes the go-ahead to roam your flesh? He is still an issue, and you can feel his gaze on you even as you try to fix yours on the scene in front of you.

Sungchan, on the other hand, is a little more confident, and from what he can tell, he still has an impact on you. Apart from the irregular breathing and chest rise, his only doubt is whether the way your skin is covered in goosebumps is due to him or the cold weather.

“I just needed a breath of fresh air. I am doing fine.”

“As you say,” he tries to give you the space you seek by shifting his gaze away from you. “Does not the cold bother you at all?”

“I suppose not. It is something I am used to.”

After a few minutes, you bring yourself to ask, breaking the little silence you two have built. Your feeble attempt at small talk, and, of course, regarding the host of the party because you can not think of anything interesting to say right now, it is as if he is taken over your mind and dumbed you down in the process.

“Are you related to Eunseok?”

“Oh,” he says, giving you his first smile, which is as bright as the light reflected off the lake’s surface and warmer and sweeter than a freshly baked apple pie. “Why? Do we look alike?” Honestly, a warm smile that could make the sun feel cold, and it is spilling out of the corners of his deep brown eyes.

Is there a length of time at which his smile should stop being your favorite sight? 

Certainly, no, but—

“Oh, no, no,” you say, backtracking in your head to see if your question was stupid. Finally, you admit, “I am just trying to make small talk.”

“I am aware of that,” he smirks triumphantly, as if he has finally won you over, because being under someone’s influence causes one to doubt and second-guess their statements, and you are doing just that, which he finds absolutely adorable.

You clearly sulk at his victory. “So?”

As a result, his smile broadens even more.

“Eunseok? Eunseok is a friend. A very close one.”

“Ah, I see,” you exhale a sigh of relief. It is even stupid, strange, and awkward that you feel this way, but you do.

“And you? Who is Eunseok to you?”

“May I say, a friend from work? We volunteer together.”

“Mhm,” he hums softly. “Strange, he has never mentioned you.”

“How can you be so certain that he hasn’t when you don’t even know what my name is?” You retort.

You are met with silence. A complete one. 

Perhaps he disliked the tone of your voice and the way you responded.

You are not sure what to make of the situation because seconds are turning into minutes and he has not said or asked anything else besides what you asked. You are worried and perplexed as to why you are still glued to being here when you could simply return inside and enter the warmth of the apartment, but you do not.

Why? What is it that keeps you here? Why are you staying out here in the cold with him?

Sungchan immediately abandons his pursuit of observing the city, the moon, and the thousand snowflakes falling from the sky when you finally turn your entire body his way. He is not interested in them anymore, if he ever was.

You unintentionally and unconsciously bring your hands together to hug yourself, not to express to him how cold you are but as a reaction to being out in the cold for too long and forgetting your coat inside. 

Your earrings flutter in the breeze, teasingly brushing against your neck and shoulders as if they were windchimes, and you are the music for him.

The wind also tangles your hair as it blows through it. Messy in the sense that your ends sometimes stick to your lipgloss and you try to ignore it. Most of his attention, however, is drawn to your delecate collar bones. And you are not wearing a bra underneath that velvet piece of whatever it is you are wearing. So the hug and squeezing on your chest only highlight your prominently hardened, sensitive spots for him.

And whether all of this divine show you are putting on is for him or not, or if it is all unintentional, Sungchan will have to figure it out on his own.

Sure, for the time being, everything is so unintentional, and he is aware of it. Sungchan understands that the cold has a big influence on how you look right now—the allure of it all—but deep down, he still believes that he, to some extent, causes it, that the cold creeps and shivers that linger on your body are brought on by him, and that it is not just the cold night.

And when he sees you like this—the neon lights reflecting off of you, the countless soft flakes landing on your face, some nestling and making a home in your hair, the way your eyes invite, and the little stars beneath them—he realizes how much he has grown dependent on you in such a short period of time.

While the neon dyes around you, he is hooked on your messy appearance. Blurred illumination and twinkling stars in the distance, but you are the star, beaming with lust in a riot of colors, or so he believes.

“Here,” he says, undressing his overdyed denim jacket in the hopes of trapping you within it—within him.

He does not even give you a chance to object. So, “thank you,” you say softly, despite the fact that you are anything but calm at the moment. His warm hands have brushed up against your arms during the process, which is a legitimate reason for your emotions to become agitated. “I did not bring mine,” you add to be more convincing. “I did not think I would be out this long.”

Sungchan grins from behind you, enjoying the intimacy the action has brought. “It is okay,” he says, brushing down the length of your now-covered arms.

His voice, words, breath, and scent rush from your hair to your ears at the same time. They are far too intimidating, but he is so smooth that it is contradictory, forcing you to disintegrate slowly. 

You are trying your hardest not to melt in his arms, but it is a difficult task. You close your eyes for a moment, cursing the thoughts that keep popping into your silly little brain, but this has been such a small gesture—a nice gesture by someone to cover someone. This is perfectly normal. This is not unusual. People frequently go out of their way to cover others who are cold. So everything is okay. This is completely fine. ‘It is fine,’ you tell yourself.

He lines up next to you once you have been wrapped in his scent.

“What is so funny?” you inquire, noticing traces of satisfaction on his face. The majority of them are smug, but it is the bite of his lips to suppress the smile and its reflection in his sweet eyes that perplexes you. He is soooo

“Nothing,” he flirts casually. His eyelid and nose bridge home these tiny, exquisite specks that wink at you, adding to his soft, angelic physiognomy. And this much is true: they are invisible to false gods, but when it comes to you, nobody is more capable of holding onto you than those moles.

“Hmph,” you murmur, cocking your brow. “All right,” you say, only increasing the smile between his bitten lips. Like this, Sungchan is quickly becoming someone who is difficult to be normal about—someone to yearn for.

Mid-eye-flirt, your eyes drop involuntarily, whether due to insecurity or not, but they do. They are on their way to examine his white cotton tee shirt, his broad chest and even longer shoulders, his venied and shivered ivory arms. His neckline too is begging for lips.

You consider his height and how your head would not even reach his shoulders if you were not wearing heels. Perhaps your high will be at his heart level, making it ideal for your ear to check on his heart palpitations. You have gotten so far in your delusion that you are wondering what it is like to kiss someone so tall.

“Sungchan,” he offers playfully, aware that he is destroying a fantasy you are creating in your head.

“Uh,” you remark. Is he reintroducing you to reality? You are extremely embarrassing. You clear your throat and respond with your name.

He begins to softly nod his head, his lips curving once more. The neon is intensifying him in the same way. He looks almost flamboyant against the soft, snowy backdrop that stretches far away.

And, should that be the case, does this signify that your two are now officially flirting?

Considering that the way he looks at you clearly has you sucked in. He wants to arouse your highs and make you fantasize about him even more. And, even if you think this is just another ‘barely even a’ fling, he is powerful and genuine, as well as strangely familiar and gently captivating.

The rest of the background fades away. You cannot feel the air or the ground beneath you; all you can feel is his gaze. Everything dissolves and energizes the ecstatic present, and your constantly rambling mind becomes thoughtless. 

By the time he breaks the intimate, soul-crushing silence again, you know you are captivated by him and you no longer want this to be a fling. This is the first time you have failed at flirting. And you know you cannot be bailed out of what is to come. In fact, 8.2 seconds of eye contact is required for love at first sight to happen. 

“Why are you here?” He asks casually, as if the minutes leading up to this point had not been too private. “Outside by yourself, I mean? You do not like it inside?” 

Now that his jacket is covering you, he has more room to investigate you, which feels like a fair trade for information. Of course, you did not ask for his jacket, and it was he who rushed with it, which is, to say the least, compromising, but here you are.

“I do not know. Not really. All I needed was some fresh air. It became too suffocating in there all at once, so I had to flee.” Given that he was the reason you left the crowded room, your smile appears phony. “It has also been a long time since I had a night out. So many people and everything... Strangely, I like it here even better. Regardless of the cold.”

“Regardless of the cold?” He teases.

“Regardless of the cold,” you say firmly.

“Mhm. I see what you mean. I can say the same thing.”

“But it is you who is freezing in the cold right now,” you say, concerned.

“It doesn’t bother me.”

If only you knew that the cold does not reach him. Being here alone with you is almost everything he does not want to lose.

Unfortunately, such a situation can only last so long. The cold, like the undefined chamisty, will eventually find its way into someone’s bones. You two are complete strangers, neither here nor there, and the atmosphere quickly becomes tense once more. It is borderline hot, cold and awkward. You are both at a loss for what to do next.

And, despite the fact that Sungchan is overjoyed to have you here, spending your precious time on him out of anyone else you could possibly be with, which undoubtedly must mean something, he is aware that he wants more of you, but how does he get there?

Perhaps someone joining you two on the balcony for a smoke can help alleviate the awkwardness that has developed between you two? However, when two more men join you to smoke on the balcony, his only concern becomes protecting you.

For whatever ‘self’ reason, he does not want you to share this space with them. Behaving in a selfish manner, he offers, “Come on, let us go inside. It’s too cold.” Because of the high likelihood that you two will part ways again, even he does not understand his thought process, but his mouth and a strong desire not to share you with anyone may be faster than his brain.

You, on the other hand, naturally accept. As if you could choose. He was the one who offered you the warmth of his jacket, and he is the one who is now freezing in his tee for you. That makes you feel guilty, but not really because his jacket carried the scent that clouded your senses. You admit that whatever you had going on was nice while it lasted.

And you do not let go of his jacket until you are both inside and you are ready to give it back to him. Again, it is not like you want to let go of it. You really do not want to, but you must.

“Thank you for not letting me freeze out there,” you say softly, handing him the overdyed piece of clothing, the dying ember in your eyes almost to the point of yearning. Half hoping he cathes upon it, half believing it is best if he doesn’t. A conflict with yourself.

“You don’t have to thank me. I am glad I could assist.” And as he gently picks it up, he becomes hesitant, as if he does not want to because he will have nothing to bargain with you for.

Sungchan feels like he has already lost you to the mass of people around him, and he feels like he is coming down to being nobody to you again. So he drags on this moment, picking up his jacket, stretching the second as much as he can, and making sure his hands have brushed and touched you irrevocably.

Time passes and the tension dissipates.

[23:13] After an hour, you are still trying to keep up with your few coworkers, who appear to be planning to call it a night and leave. You do not have much of a choice but are thinking about following their decision because Sungchan has not made any further moves towards you.

Simultaneously, this is the point at which you wish things had gone differently, and you consider many different outcomes if the dice had been rolled differently.

What if Sungchan made his move twice—once when he discovered you in the entire room and was determined to have you, and again when he got close to you on the balcony—and this time he was waiting FOR YOU to prove your true intentions and finally admit you are interested in him?

Uh, just when you thought you were going to get away from him, you find yourself wishing for more of him.

However, after witnessing you and your friends bid farewell to Eunseok, Sungchan realizes that it is now or never: lose you or have you. 

He dislikes trusting time and does not want to leave you in the future. To play the ‘if’ game. He wants you now, right now, in the present, and he will be damned if he does not tell you. As a result, he rushes to say his goodbyes, leaving you both on the same elevator.

[23:20] There is him, you, and three of your friends in the elevator, and while your friends are in the front and you are in the back, he makes sure to horn his way in to you. Fortunately for you, your friends are unaware of him and will not tease you, as no one has noticed your short romance tonight except the two strangers on the balcony. And they are also so lost in their heated debate, resulting in nothing but noise to fill the cramped four-wall space.

Even though the ride down is brief, you find yourself wishing it were longer because you cannot quite figure out Sungchan’s motifs. He is difficult to understand, in contrast to how he was at the start of the night when your gazes met across the room, when his intentions were banging on your heart’s door, eager to get in. You are not sure if the mystery he is leaving you is drawing you closer to him or making you more distant. You realize you do not want to lose him, and you tell yourself that there must be a reason he got in the same elevator with you, even if he does not say anything.

Sungchan’s fingers brush against yours at that precise moment, and he begins subtly playing, then slowly intertwining them with his, never compliantly taking your hand in his. The forbidden pleasure of the action takes the edge off—just him doing this, teasing you in front of your friends, teasing you so casually that he does not even address you. He is just doing this nervous dance as you turn to him, observing his side profile and looking for meaning in his actions, all while his gaze is fixed on the door in front of him.

So carefree, until the elevator stops and all of you exit, leaving him casually tagging behind.

And, once again, because he does not say, address, or ask you anything, and it was your friends who drove you here, it is only natural that you return to where you live with them. 

Why hasn’t he asked you whether you want to stay or go with him yet? Is he leaving the door open for you to make the next big move? Is he unaware that you are not a pursuer? Why is he putting you in this awkward position where every thought and notion ends with him?

For better or worse, you decide to work on it, telling your friends that you have forgotten your phone at Eunseok’s and will head up to look for it. And all the while they insist on waiting on you, you persuade them to leave, that you will be fine calling a taxi and that they should not worry because you may have changed your mind and will stay a little longer at the party as well.

What a scumbag lie, but it works in the end. Getting rid of them was probably one of the worst decisions made in tonight’s series, and for what? You are not even sure why.

‘What are you doing?’ ‘What the f—is this?’ You curse under your breath, despite the fact that you appear cold on the outside but are all hot and bothered on the inside. As you make your way back to the elevator entrance, a few more curses escape your lips as you wait for your friends to leave. Once they have left, you retrace your steps, noticing Sungchan standing there, checking his phone.

“What do you want!?” The request comes out a little louder than you expected. But, in your defense, you are only as direct and blunt in your candor because of his mixed signals.

Sungchan, surprised, lifts his face away from the phone, and the screen noticeably lightens and strengthens his features, giving you tunnel vision with the darkness around you and forcing you to focus on his lips whether you like it or not.

To their benefit, he adds his low and deep tone, “What do you mean, what do I want?”

“Don’t—”

Sure, one way to do this is to be playful, deny, and mislead. And he is still doing a fantastic job of it. However, you can only take so much right now. The more he complicates things, the more you want him, and the more you want your answer, no matter how promiscuous the situation makes you appear.

“What were you doing inside messing with my fingers? Why take the same elevator? Why were you looking for a place to stay earlier at the bacony? Your cryptic cues are, to put it mildly, lame.”

“No, you are right,” he says with a smirk that would irritate even a god. “I am usually direct. Maybe I just wanted to take the long way around this time. And I was not doing anything. They just brushed naturally.”

“Sung—” you clench your teeth, trying to recall the rest of his name. “Sung—” but nothing comes to mind right now.

“Chan. SungChan,” he emphasizes. The satisfaction of seeing you lag when you probably want to throw hands with him is clearly visible on his face, and he is powerless to stop it. “What meaning did you find in them? I mean… our fingers touching? Many people will take nothing away from it and will most likely dismiss it.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “You can’t be serious? If you have a question, why just not ask me?”

“I already have. What meaning do you give us?” He speaks slowly, but with assurance and fixation. He is aware of the confidence he is currently displaying, so he might as well make it more lethal. “What do you want me to ask?” 

He would rather you express yourself. You! And, despite the fact that he already has a decent idea of your feelings and desires, he wants you to be more explicit about them. That is why he persists in pressuring you to give in to him. To hook you. To persuade you to ask questions. To convince you that you, too, need him. It is almost as if he is subtly switching roles. And it is he who is being chased this time.

“Oh, it has become what I want now?  you mutter. “I cannot believe it.” Turning around, you plan to start walking away from him. You are done with his nonsense.

But Sungchan’s long arm easily reaches out and firmly grasps your wrist. You pause for a moment, unsure whether you should turn back and acknowledge him, but you do. You cannot help but be annoyed because he will not ask you the question you know he wants to ask. He does not. In fact, he dragged on every opportunity he could have asked you tonight, and it is because of him that you lost your drive back home, and it is because of him—and it—

Is his ego that big? And if he does play, why for so long? How did he turn this into you running after him, which is completely opposite of who he was and what he wanted at the start of the night? It is heinous.

But, once again, the two of you can only take so much in the cold weather.

His warmth, in contrast to the cold, spreads from your wrist up the length of your arm to your neck. Hot that feels oppressive but relieves the chill.

His cheeks are undeniably flushed, and the adorable tip of his nose is irritated red. Your jaws begin to twitch, and his lips follow suit. A cold breath begins to emerge from beneath your noses, and your bodies begin to shake as you begin to burn from within. Such unavoidable conflict lingers on your face, and for a brief moment, he feels sorry for having you freeze out here. Sungchan might have had his games going if it had been a warmer season, but that is not the case right now. Finally, he brings himself to put an end to it all.

“I will give you a ride. You must be freezing.”

“Give me a ride!?” You mock, attempting to shake your wrist free from his grip, but it has no effect. You are so fed up with him.

“You lost your ride home because of me, right? He says it with a cheeky grin, as if he is proud of himself, as if missing your ride because of him is such a big accomplishment. “It is only fair that I do something abo—” It is like rubbing salt into a wou—But-but his intentions are all pure!

“Oh, my god,” you say, disbelievingly looking up at the sky before returning your gaze to him. “You are such a jerk. I never would have guessed you were this bad.”

“Your place, or mine?”

“Your game is awful. I am not sure how many times I have to remind you of—”

“As long as it works.”

You bite your lower lip in frustration while rolling your eyes.

The game is bad, but there are not many alternatives. Your phone is still in your small bag, as it has always been, and your friends have gone. Returning to the party or freezing to death are neither of the options that appeal to you. As a result, you end up in his car as the least bad option.

To put it mildly, the ride to his place is quiet; his grip on the steering wheel appears to be steady and relaxed, whereas you are a fucking mess. You desperately hope you do not come across as such and that what is going on inside does not show on the outside, despite your earlier efforts and utmost failures. It is frustrating because you were the one who persuaded him to respond, and you were the one who stayed with him—without him even asking. 

Therefore, everything that has happened up to this point has been an inaccurate reflection of who you are. You hope the circumstances did not boost his ego even more and make you a lesser version of yourself.

You divert your gaze away from the window by focusing on his side profile while he maintains his gaze on the road. Uh, infuriatingly beautiful! So, you decide, carelessly, to press the ‘imaginary’ pedal even harder, dazzling reality onto the fantasy, oblivious to the consequences and what if they worsen? And all they need is what you are about to say to escalate the situation.

“You do not strike me as the type, you know?” 

“As the type to?” 

Nervous, you rub your thighs. “The perplexing kind. To play games,” you pause. “Your smile is lovely, and your eyes are too sincere. You have the face and energy of someone who can play the cheeky extrovert in charge of the party atmosphere. Someone who is witty while remaining sweet. I think that your current self-presentation does not accurately reflect who you are. To be honest, I think you are terrible at pretending. You are so bad at it that you are losing at your own game.”

He remains unaffected, looking ahead at the road. “Then let us keep pretending. I can keep up the tough guy persona for you if you want.”

“It is not about what I want. Plus, you weren’t like that at first.”

He thrives on your somewhat nice compliment. “Was I someone sweet?”

“Shut up,” you repeat, and neither of you says much else after that.

The bottom line is that he can be anything you need him to be. And you notice it the moment you both enter the elevator, your backs against the opposite walls, the gap between you closing but not closing completely. The silence is still, awkward and sexy. 

In the literal sense, he is a walking contradiction. Why is he staring at you with his head pressed against the elvator’s metal, his stark jaw, neck exposed, and this dense ‘undressing’ look in his eyes, never losing his sweet smily charm in front of you? He is so good at it that you both despise and admire him. He both thrills and terrifies you. 

You have to keep wondering how he manages to be both endearing and seductive. It is peak performance, and it must have taken him a while to get there. It makes you long for him in ways you never imagined possible.

The type to give you a backhug followed by a kiss on your hair while saying, ‘You are mine,’ and then easily transform it into a chokehold while whispering in your ear, ‘Mine!’ 

Someone you would consider kissing or biting. Someone you would consider walking hand in hand with only to have him act disrespectfully later, when you are in a safe place and it is just you and him. Someone who will kiss your temple and then invite you to sit in his lap.

You close your eyes at the culmination of your thoughts. You are certain he can sense your internal temperature,  even if he is not touching you. He is touching you in ways you have not been touched before, and this time it turns into an elevator ride that seems to last forever and you wish it would end as soon as possible. 

[23:48] Stepping into the hallway, you try to pick yourself up and carry on from where you melted. You insert the key into the keyhole of your door and invite him in, but you are really second-guessing yourself and questioning your actions. However, it is too late. It is too late because the moment you close the door behind you, you are trapped against the next wall.

Whether provoked or not, he begins sliding your coat down, his hands coming to grip on your shoulders. 

Dazed and hurried, you search for some sense in his eyes but you cannot find any. This causes you to resent your hasty, ill-considered decisions, and you try to protest, but no words come out of your mouth. When did things begin to move at such a rapid and high rate?

Sungchan, fit and lean, towers above you, cornering you and putting you in a scary situation where your only way out is to scream. His overdye jacket rises with him as he raises his hands and rests them on each side of you on the wall. Your gaze shifts to his tiny waist as a tiny bit of his white tee peals away, revealing some of his hips.

You silently gulp at how quickly everything resolves. Your words and thoughts are both stuck deeper inside your mouth and will not form.

“Look at me,” he says, pointing out your excessive staring at the floor.

“I-I” 

Naturally, you cannot go on because your words are failing you. Should the deep look in his eyes in the elevator forewarn you of what he is about to do?

So, in order to get you to look at him, his fingers grab the thin strap of your top, intending to yank and tear it. Of course he doesn’t, but his strategy proves to work instantly as soon as your eyes meet his.

You start to tremble under the complete hot mess of his deep browns, wondering what would happen if he continued the action. The only thing keeping you from being too exposed and naked for him is the velvet fabric that clings to your body. It gets so hot so fast that you are not sure how it is possible, all while your heart feels like it is about to leap out of your chest. Self-defense kicks in, and you raise your hand to your sternum to keep the material in place just in case.

“What exactly is going on?” You ask, stunned, caged by his hands on both sides of you, and already gone.

“You ask as if you haven’t already calculated the distance between our lips and guessed the flavor of my tongue,” he gruffly replies. “This is everything we both desired from the moment our gazes met across the room.” To make matters worse, he whispers, “Don’t deny it.”

A thought flashes through your mind, as sudden and powerful as a firework reaching the sky, because that is exactly what has been poisoning your mind. That is all you have been able to think about. What would it be like to kiss him? How would his lips taste? Is he the type to smile through the kiss, mocking you because you have given up?

“That—that is completely un—untrue,” you mumble, turning away from him and looking at the door.  But your neck muscles work with you, and is the current exposed line meant to tease him even more?

Sungchan seizes the opportunity, moving in closer, pushing your legs apart, and resting his knee against the wall between them. His figure is far too intimidating, while his lazy smile and curious lips climb your provocative neck to your earshell with a bit of his gut feeling that this is where you break the most. “Do you already regret inviting me?” 

His tone and breath are light and breezy, like soft sunlight peeking through the curtains at dawn, revealing a scent of freshness as they enter your little universe. They are, however, comfortably casual, which makes him attractively persistent at the very entrance of your ear. “I have already altered, if not ruined, your night,”  his lips almost kissing under your ear. “We might as well give in to this absurd affection. What have we got to lose?”

And waiting for an answer, having reached this stage, his instincts and the part of his brain receptive to pain are already bracing themselves. He can feel them clenching in his gut as this two coming to three hour-stand-situation has blurred the lines between lovers, strangers with ‘potential’ benefits, and something resembling a budding romance.

As you keep staring at the door while pressed up against the wall, beneath his words, his high and his strength, completely at his mercy, your thoughts are also protesting against being so emotionally fiercely oppressed. They are getting out of hand, to be honest, as the dislike of not wanting to be clingy, the desire to not be subdued, or the fear of yet another heartbreak are no longer enough to keep these rising hopes in check.

“Tell me,” he demands softly. Soft-skilled, his hand turns your face to him without your permission. He has no concept of consent, and gently, with doe eyes, he thefts your emotions.

“Sung—Chan,” you scorn in a moan as he holds your jaw in his hands and demands that you see…

“You made an effort to remember my name. I am confident you will remember my face as well.”

“You have a pretty forgettable face,” you lie, maintaining your larger-than-life persona. You. make. him. smile. 

One of those smiles...

‘FUCK!’

Sungchan’s lashes flatter above you, like venom attempting to doom you, as he catches you ‘dream walking’ between his teeth and his thumb, wishing he could push it past your lips and touch your tongue.

“Will you be able to forget a face you ruined?” He eventually asks.

In pain, you furrow your brows. You are at a loss for what to say in response to the nasty compliment-turn question. It is all on you. You were the one who started it. You are such a speck in comparison to him, having concluded that he is extroverted in every way possible.

“Yes or no?” The more he demands, the deeper his voice becomes. “Answer me,” he says, lowering his head so that his nose brushes against yours. As you watch him formulate his question, his eyes close.  “Will you be able to forget someone who intruded on your night in a very honest attempt to—to”

His other hand, which is gripping your waist, tightens. A real physical touch that threatens to melt your left side as you become unconscious of how much your legs rub against his that is between yours. The star details in your eye makeup could be mistaken for tears.

“Seriously,” he says against your lips, his confidence slightly backtracking. “Did I ruin your night?” Adding flaws to himself when he is perfect, “I have been messy and—”

You succumb to his lingering words, losing your voice and forgetting how to breathe, and the closer he comes to you and presses his body against yours, the more sensitive he becomes to the situation. The more he craves it, the more he overthinks, questioning whether he is doing everything correctly. The more he does not want to lose you, the stronger his possessive feelings become.

Obsessed with the idea of making you his even for a single night and oblivious to the idea of consent, he does not waste a second longer and brings his lips to your exposed neck, causing a new wave of warmth to spread out.

You feel your body quiver and break out in a cold sweat. His desperate, awfully warm lips awaken your moans, allowing him to revel in how helpless and breakable you have become this late into the night. And as a reward for his patience, he gets these tasty little audible treats.

“Sungchan,” you mutter in a complete filmic daze, hot all over and clutching his jacket and pulling him even closer to you. “We-we”

He groans into your neck, a whiny protest that caresses your already electrified skin, because he is too far gone, too shallow in his tender need for you, and looking into your eyes now would be too humiliating. All the while, he has to keep his ‘irresistible’ guy impersonation in check, right?

As a result, you are the one who uses force to get him to stop. You give him one last look before pressing your lips against his. You cannot think of anything else but having him smear your gloss all over your face. But before you can even feel his lips violently unite with yours, he pulls back. It is barley a peck. 

So, now, you are not sure if his provocative, melancholy expression is meant to delude you even more or if he is actually thinking. But what this giant really does is count to ten before unleashing his thrust that has been building for some hours.

His big hands seize your face again, but this time he tugs on your bottom lip first, retaining it between his teeth and claiming you before moving on. You realize that even the finest alcohol you have ever tasted has never been this potent. The softest, smoothest, and lightest silk you have ever touched does not compare to his hands on your face.

Sungchan’s sweet scent, taste, and shameless sighs overwhelm all of your senses, culminating in you ghasping in his mouth. In his struggle for dominance, his tongue is selfish, and his hand lands on your waist again and starts to pick up the material, exposing your skin to his touch.

His hand smoothly glides across your bare skin before groping you so hard that you bite him back, giving in to your wild side.

“Ouch!” he hisses, furrowing his brows. He takes a step back and completely releases you.

With him doing this, you finally recognize the coldness of the night for what it is because it hits you all at once, and not literally in the sense that the room is cold, but you feel extreme coldness in the distance he just created. You are aware that you and he are still at the entrance and have made no progress, but you are more concerned that you will be unable to continue due to his most recent halt, which you caused. Everything appeared to be going well; your lips had finally paired and become the same, but you had to go and ruin that.

His hand drops and grips the handle. But only if you knew this was your last chance to let him go—the last time he gains enough control to restrain himself. He hopes this is the last time you think clearly before realizing that if he stays, he will be unable to leave this place without leaving you ‘scarred’ in some way.

The kiss’s spontaneity and rapidity caught you both off guard, blanking your thoughts and leaving your minds so empty that neither of you knows whether staying or leaving is more rational.

In response, Sungchan’s hand presses lightly on the handl—

An aching “Stay!” escapes your used lips as you lose control through a clenched fist.

“Why do you need me here?”  he wonders.

“I don’t know! I suppose I want to remember this kiss, but it was so brief and happened so quickly. It surprised me.”

“I thought you said I had a forgettable face. So, what good is remembering our kiss?”

‘Mean’ you think to yourself. And what better than to offer him a silly stay? “I have a wonderful bottle of wine waiting to be opened,”  you remark as you pick up the coat from the floor and hang it up. “Oh, and you have to meet my fish. One of them looks exactly like you.”

His soft roused pink lips curve into a smile as the corners of his eyes crinkle. Something shifts in you when he laughs. It is as if your heart is swimming in honey. You want to drink it.

“How can a fish suddenly resemble me?”

“See?” you say as you lead him inside. “You are curious, aren’t you?”

“If you accept that we just made out, then fine.”

You return his sarcasm with wide eyes, noticing him softly poking the inside of his cheek and pouting his lips. He is flirting with you a little more confidently now that he has been officially invited into the heart of your privacy, which is your home, and is no longer considered the intruder.

[00:14] In the living room sits the stoic aquarium with his twin fish. The tank emits a cozy neon magenta blue in the middle of the dark room, creating a familiar color atmosphere to the one earlier at the balcony. 

As you two get closer, each of you takes a position on each side of the tank. Sungchan appears to be ecstatic about the fact that you were speaking the truth, that you were housing fish at home, and that you were not lying.

“You weren’t lying,” he says automatically, astounded by the several small creatures flapping their tails gracefully. Each one is unique and divergent. They go about their business, going through their insignificant daily loop. Some even resort to randomly breaking out of the loop by lightly tapping their mouths on the glass.

“Can you spot yourself?” You crack the joke over the glass wall.

He investigates the situation further before declaring, “They are kissing,” his finger pointing to two fish at the tank’s very bottom, partially hidden by the green seaweeds.

“Oh,” you say as you tap the glass to scare them away and get them to stop, “they are not ‘in love’ with each other. Actually, fish are the opposite. They are fighting. I am guessing you assumed one of them was the one who resembled you,” you say, tiptoeing to catch a better glimpse of his face over the tank.

He, on the other hand, is not troubled in the same way. He is tall and imposing. “It wasn’t me if they weren’t kissing... Do fish not kiss?”

“Fish may rub against each other or press their bodies together, but this is not kissing, whereas fish who touch their lips or lock in a passionate kiss are most likely sparring or engaged in battle. When this occurs, they are attempting to injure each other, which can cause severe damage. So, thank you for noticing. I might have to take action on this.”

“But why?”

“Because if you have fish that are engaging in this behavior, you must separate them as soon as possible before they injure or—The-the consequences can be fatal, okay?”

“A kiss that can kill?” he muses, his eyes brightening as he becomes fascinated by the matter.

You sense his intent, as if he had not delivered such a kiss a few minutes ago. Even though it was brief, it served as both bait and, most importantly, a promise.  That is, it could have been much worse had he not broken it. You have no doubt that he withheld his lethal kiss from you.

“Ugh,” you sigh, pointing a finger lovingly at him to correct his misbehavior. “Don’t look fascinated, as this is bad for my fish.”

He grins at your petty, silly threat.

Casually, as the fish swim in unison, unaffected by their monotonous routine, his eyes begin to reflect the contents of the salty tank. He is both close and far. The light enhances his face’s magical mystery, and you notice another tiny mole at the edge of his upper lip as he opens his mouth in delight. It is as if a top secret has been revealed, and you appear to be the lucky recipient. So tiny, yet celestial. Something simple but meaningful. How come you did not notice it sooner? 

Since he is always attracting you so calmly, you eventually come to the conclusion that Sungchan is a true meance. There is a slow-burning beauty about him—a beauty that destroys peace. Soft brown, like the coffee that inks the back of your throat and leaves you asking for more as your mind begins to crack. There is always some bait for you to take—some feature or trait of his that he is constantly working on in order to get you to long. His eyes, his pretty hands, and his towering physique. His broad shoulders, his side profile, and his absolutely stunning nose. 

However, his tiny mole is now attracting your attention back to his lips… And the truth is, the last time you thought about his lips... Well, you got them! Which, once more, is something you can have if you wish it.

He reverberates deep inside your innermost thoughts. ‘What about this killing kiss?’ ‘What about it? Just wh—’ You wish to know!

To clear your mind, you choose to pose a question. “Do you know about the soulmate theory? People say that moles are where your lover kissed you the most in your past life. Which indicates that you have—”

“I kissed a lot,” he cuts in.

“You have had a lot of kisses,” you point out.

“Then, what is more repulsive to you: me being frequently kissed or me being a promiscuous kisser?”

“How can I be the judge? You must have done a lot of kissing. That is all there is to it.”

“Alright. But I am curious. How would you kiss me if we had to do it all over again? ​If we had to take things slowly?”

“Wh—why are you asking?”

“Because everything up to this point has felt like a high that has caused me to act on impulse. But now that I am standing across from you, this calm and comfortable essence, the soothing sounds of this water tank... You. All of this balancing act of our energies seems to be helping to calm down all of that rush. I want to hold your hand and I want you to think I am cute.”

“Right!” you chuckle at him. “What exactly do you mean, Sungchan? Your eyes tell a very distinct—y-your your smile—” You pause for a moment to examine his sincerity, and you discover no flaws in his truth. “Wait, you ARE serious.”

Different shades of the same cyan and magenta spread across his face, each time so new yet so familiar. He rubs his chin, then runs his hand through his hair, ruffling it. “I am.”

The sweet, calming vibrations that he seems to be floating on top of blend with sensual and suggestive ones in a way that is beyond comprehension. How is it possible for someone to be both extremes at once? Sincerely, there is not a comb in the world that could possibly untangle your knotted feelings at this moment. You have had no idea how terribly screwed you are until this point.

Hence, your gaze returns to the fish, and you can tell by the sudden shift in the air that he is about to say something you wish he hadn’t. You make every effort to get him to stop. “But—”

“Look,” he wins over you; “your ability to completely eliminate my desire to socialize with anyone at a party in favor of creating tunnel vision speaks for itself.” 

He takes a moment to think of what else to say. “And-And we haven’t even gotten to the laughs and the banter, the bad sarcasm, the conversations, or the warmest embrace... The next-day breakfast that culminates in a ridiculously serious spectacle of coffee making, which I thoroughly enjoy from the best seat in your kitchen while you wear my t-shirt, which fits you far better,”

“Sungch—”

“But that’s THE future. So, then, of course, if I am just a one time guy, I am not kidding when I ask what kind of kiss you want. If you are going to remember or take something from this night, it might as well be something worthwhile.”

At least you should not be held accountable for falling in love because Sungchan is beautiful with his carefully chosen words. And as the chemistry reaches its peak, you realize you can no longer resist it. You tiptoe a little more to get a better look at him without having to look through the glass.  His eyes pierce you with a clarity you have not seen before, and you can feel him pulling you through the glass and water like a magnet.

You cannot put it into words, but something is there. A million thoughts, feelings, hopes, and dreams are exchanged without the use of a single word. You let the magnetism take over. 

And so he smiles as you drown, or is that his coping mechanism for drowning into you as well? 

Really, is there a length of time at which his smile should stop being your favorite sight?

Overcoming the rather tiresome governance of fear, you decide to speak in favor of your ‘lust-ings’, despite the fact that you never intended to spend the night with a guy, let alone invite and bring one home.

“If I had to imagine another kiss, it would be one that happened on the spur of the mome—”

In actuality, everything that has happened so far has happened spontaneously. Startled,   he cutely leans over the glass tank, gripping the top edge with both hands. “Again!?” 

“It seems to suit your personality, and for what it is worth, I think I like it. A kiss where we banter around because I cannot read your cues or antics, which leads to you being unable to take my sarcastic criticism, so you choose to silence me.”

“Is that how you define ‘cute’?”

Sweetly, you continue to enrage him. “You can’t even handle it right now, can you?”

Sungchan squints, attempting to determine if the patterns  of the ‘kiss has already started’ are already there. He lets go of the tank’s glass, crosses his arms, and pouts some more before starting to pull his jacket down, giving the impression of, ‘Sure, it is on... And please, do proceed!’

Yet, refusing to take it off completely, his jacket dangles halfway down his arms. His collarbones and tee collar are in a power struggle. Numerous veins swarm his arms and biceps, screaming for your attention. 

Again, something you have seen before, but is that supposed to make it easier for you to process? And how should you focus on everything at all, appropriately? And what should you do in response when he eventually decides to purposefully bite his lip in slow motion? His sheer beauty alone is giving you headaches, not to mention all of these other details.

To turn the conversation back on track, you give him a soft smile and continue to elaborate on what, in your opinion, is the ideal kiss. 

“You want to stop me from talking because I step on so many of your nerves, and there is not much else you can do but kiss me. You want so bad to grab me and shake me, but all you manage to do is squeeze my face gently between your palms…” You make a small pause before you continue. “The seconds get progressively slower in microseconds as we stare at one another. I successfully count three of your moles while you complete a ten-count. With that, your excitement to punish me dies down. A new need emerges.”

“I imagine a kiss where you don’t even realize how tender your lips are pressed against mine. But then, I bet you don’t even realize how soft your lips are.” A unique sensuality is added to your voice as it becomes increasingly lower pitched while you speak. “Or-r are aware of the way the corners of your eyes crinkle when you shut them. It is just ughh—ANYWAY, a kiss where your annoyingly long eyelashes, of which I am very jealous, tickle my cheekbones, and my lipgloss leaves sparkles on your nose. You take hold of my hands and slowly raise me up, letting me step on your toes and offering one of those smiles that you have already given me… while you are ignorant of all these tiny, lovely things about yourself, Sungchan. Is that cute enough for you?”

Your last words cause him to tilt his head back slightly, look up at the ceiling, and take a deep breath. “You are safe as long as this wall of glass keeps us separate. But nothing about anything, not even how I will treat you if you decide to move, is guaranteed. I just know that I won’t be able to stop myself.”

“Is that a threat?” You raise a brow.

“Assume anything you like,” he says indifferently. “It can be a threat if that is what you want it to be.”

“Hmph,” you razz him some more, “so you are going back to being the tough guy?” as you take the initial step away from the aquarium. “Might I suggest that ‘you do not seem like the type’? Did you forget, or what?”

“You don’t know me,” he at last asserts, embracing your challenge and making a step too. 

As soon as there is nothing separating you two, dopamine levels peak.

“You do it so effortlessly, I bet.”

Sunghcan gives his lips a quick lick. “You have seen and felt it.”

You answer truthfully, “I have.”

With a notorious smile that matches his innermost feelings, he snatches you without warning and begins to drag you over the couch, which is located in a more central area of the room. His stature is so great that he carries you with your feet elevated, and your ‘let me down’ whine is met with his ‘UH HUH, you are going to have to tell me why you have invited me.’

When he finally gets you both there, he exhales and collapses back onto the couch, holding you in his arms. You are slightly leaning on him with your knees around his waist. 

Quickly adjusting to the seat, Sungchan presents an offensive sight with his head resting on the couch. You are in a situation where you would like to know how to proceed, where to look, or what else to say, but all of those things have been done before. The only thing left to do is to give yourself entirely to him.

Sungchan goes right to work without much delay. His fingers gently dip on both sides of your waist before he applies more pressure.

There is a noticeable tremble in your voice. “W-what are y-you doing?” You manage to ask despite your heart thumping frantically in your throat and feeling like it is going to choke you from his intimidating appearance and the pressure of his hands on your ribs. 

“Act my part?” He says this with such intensity that he cleverly slips one hand past your waist and runs along your backbone, taking advantage of some of the exposed skin on your back.

Feeling tense, your hands start to shake, and you are not sure where to put them other than where his head rests—at the back of the couch. Well, that seems like a safe choice, duh. Or should you touch him back in return? Should—

You truly are clueless, yet all your thoughts can be seen.

So, as you hover over him and look into his eyes, the last thing you hear is his seductive, whispery ‘Come,’ which invites you to close the distance and gives you total control over how to initiate this kiss. His hands press your body against his, and his mysterious, deep tone easily compels you. 

As the heat of the moment engulfs you both, nobody says anything. It is what you two—especially him—had been looking forward to for hours. An earlier thought that was driving him crazy was picturing you exactly as you are in his arms right now, only to find that you are even better—even beautiful—and that your skin is hotter and softer than  he had fantasized.

He suffers from the same consequences of ‘the closeness’ as you do. You can feel his heart hammering against his chest, trying to break free. His steady lashes are growing more disturbed, and his breathing is labored and drawn out. And when your warm lips finally touch his, his brain shuts down completely. Maybe he is just not used to things going slowly. You are killing him subtly now by doing that.

Actually, this whole night was just a slow, steady death. You can taste the sweetness in him even in his mouth, so you can be assured that even though he can be quick at times, there is an unquestionable sweetness to him. The sweetness that translates from the smile he lets out while kissing you. 

Of course, he is skilled at this! He slowly extends his tongue after letting his hums seep into you and the kiss grows deeper.

The sound of the kiss developing into a passionate makeout accentuates the hair at the back of your head. You are completely absorbed by him, lost. And the moment you hear his first pant in your mouth, you scoop his face into your hands. He presses harder against your back as your hands burn from the heat of his cheeks.

You moan, hot yet weak and defenseless, ‘Sung—” polonged “chan,’ meaning to say something but never managing to.

“Mhmm-” As he fills your mouth with his tongue and spreads it farther in an attempt to find more space, the tender kiss seems to turn into something bold and invasive. It quickly descends into sloppy, steamy, wet kissing. A kiss that is actually so strong that it does not matter if you drool or think it is inappropriate.

He holds your waist with one arm while pressing you down onto him, applying pressure to your nape. His jeans quickly became unbearable to be in due to the slight movement causing friction.

Then he begins kissing your jaw. Further down, the dampness of his breath clings to your throat, making you lose consciousness. If it was just his lips the first time, now there are his tongue and teeth as well. He tampers with the strap of the top with his fingers before sliding it down your shoulder. His impatience is evident as his kisses travel down your chest. You are helpless to stop him from becoming needy in his attempts to torture you; all you can do is throw back your head and hope he stays that way the entire night.

In the moment’s trance, he lays you down and hovers over you in a fit of craving. The couch starts to screech because his weight and the pressure he puts on it are too much for it. 

It is at this point that you realize how much you enjoy being placed in a vulnerable situation where you cannot think about leaving because of his arms. The more you watch him, the more attracted he becomes to you, because he can see your thought in the way you look at him. Both of you and him get turned on by it. You love how openly and compulsively possessive he is. 

And… should you love it?

Just looking at him on top of everything makes you feel fucking aroused. Thoughts of how perverse his lip mole is are all over your head. His hair gets in the way of his dazed eyes, whose brown never stops being drenched in the aquarium’s neon blue. 

If the neon fades from him, will everything end?

Feeling a bit annoyed by the question that keeps coming to mind, you find yourself embracing his torso and seeking the comfort of his weight on top of you, biting his shoulder in the process. His writhing gasps are to die for as your teeth and fingernails dig into his white shirt.

Your silent demands are met with Sungchan’s insistence that you look at him. Not to mention that it becomes harder to do that. He is not letting you look anywhere but at him, as his fingers start to lift your top and you feel them drawing damaging figures beneath your belly button, creating such an intensely carnal, gut-wrenching moment as your desires intensify. And there is this throbbing, hot, and silky feeling to your skin, which makes him want to torment you until you lose any control. 

To do that, he grabs a tender spot on your thigh to further expose you and carve out more space for himself. 

As far as clothes go, for a moment, you wish there was nothing at all between you and him. And as you shut your eyes to the idea, Sungchan plants a kiss under your ear, leaving a trail of smiles across your cheek. Oh, how well he reads you. Have faith—he shares your desire.

You too have, unconsciously, contributed to his shirt being half-rid. Squares make up most of his belly, and they end at the bottom of his low-rise jeans. Your fingers smuggle themselves against his most sensitive skin, just beneath the hem of his jeans.

His lips open up, and you try to learn the precise way he hurts by watching and absorbing every move he makes while his eyebrows tighten at your touch. If you push your hand a little further, what should you expect?

He is fiercely competitive, so he rolls his hips into you after becoming enthralled with your fleeting, tender touches.

You cover your eyes in embarrassment at this gesture, but his voice is already there, right in your ear. “Open your eyes.” 

When you shake your head silently, refusing to give in, he grabs your hands and pins them over your head. 

“Open up,” he insists. A honey-like voice turned sour. Sungchan is cruel and hard, with the strangest soft skin, a contradictory scent, and the ability to practically lick your face with his words—a lesson that teaches you to be both tough and tender as well. As a result, you gently release the held fear. Your eyes allow him to be with you without you having to say it out loud.

And although he is too shy to let it on or say it, the subsequent crushing of his hips into you speaks of ‘That is right, baby…’ The following one of ‘Nice and slow,’ and the one right after of ‘I’ll go again... and again... and—’

“Please, don’t—” you cry out. 

His lips are blazing and red is blooming all over his cheeks, but still, Sungchan resists giving in to his shyness. As an alternative, he tightens his hold on your wrists. “Mhmm. Need words.”

“D-don’t—don’t let this end; it’s-it is just too fucking good.” 

“Yeah?” He smiles, releasing your wrists, recognizing that he is actually far too touch-deprived and needs your hands on every part of his body. “You know it is true,” he whispers, stroking your lips with his thumb before your frustration overcomes you and you take in his colossal index and middle fingers in your mouth.

Yeah, you know it is true… You introduce them to your teeth and tongue before you begin to suck. 

And is he really expected to be unaffected by that? When you devour him like that? He hurts for you to suck it so much that he is now in raw pain. No succulent sip should be missed. The taste must be unimaginable in many ways.

His mouth opens with a swear word. “As soon as I saw you, I knew you would find this irresistible.”

As you never really anticipated it this far, you are not sure if you feel the same. But here he is, and here you are, acting as the situation demands, so maybe he is right. Your reciprocal relationship is akin to an electric shockwave, meeting both your needs and your own desires in equal measure. The perfect balance... found in a stranger at a party…

Sungchan decides to reach your vulnerable center, soothing you with deep, heavy, lewd kisses. You have no idea what he needs or wants or if his body is adapting to yours, but you can bet that the ‘Fuck’ he sucks into your lips is real.

“Please,” you beg, raising your hands, only to have him slam them down once more while giving you a serious look as if you might have done him more harm than good. But in reality, you are so fragile under him that you steal his heart. Tears of sweat form at his temple, and you manage to free a hand to give him long, leisurely strokes as you brush his hair out of his eyes.

He says something incoherently like ‘sorry,’ leaning in to plant another kiss while entwining his palms with yours. 

What is he sorry for?

Nothing about his behavior, not even this kiss, matches his hard, deep, grinding hips. The night’s apex remains unaffected, even though the jeans denim is impenetrable. You want to burst at the way he begins to ease up on you, circling back and forth, momentum building, building, holding your fingers intertwined while his other hand rests on your waist to keep you still while he slows down, which intensifies the pain you are experiencing.

Eventually, he looks down at you and stops whatever he is doing, breathing heavily as though he is just finished a mile. You both suffer from this entire action. Needs and thirst are put on hold by him. At last, he gathers his courage to say something, gazing at you through the same wounded eyes that were there when your attention strayed from his way earlier. “I have something to tell you.” 

You reassure him, sensing a weight in his fast blinks, “You don’t have to say it.” He is even quicker to lean his cheek into your palm when you tickle under his chin to soothe him. The touchy-feely, seeking affection he displays pushes you to emphasize what you mean more. “It’s the way you look at me.”

“Isn’t it silly?” He muses with glassy brown eyes that are blown bigger than anyone’s ability to frighten him. “Love at first sight is not something I believe in. No one should, in my opinion.”

“Then, what makes you feel the need to tell me something?”

“I—” His speech falters as he struggles to form a complete sentence before sighing and collapsing next to you onto the overly small sofa.

“Don’t,” you say while squeezing yourself smaller to make more room for him. “Then don’t. You don’t have to say anything.”

“But I am not ready to end this evening,” he fusses, using his finger to tap both of your chests to show how close you two are, “which means I also don’t want what is going on in here to end.”

“I know,”  you say with a smile as you take his hand in yours, study it, and then walk the inward lines as though determining whether the two of you have what it takes. 

He watches you as you watch his hand; if there is anything he wants to hold onto forever, it is this. There is a certain cruciality to the moment. Despite not knowing if you two are a match, you both want this to continue. And so you say, "Nor do I."

“Seriously?” he asks, raising himself up on one elbow with a shocked expression.

You continue to feel and appreciate his hand, ignoring his question. The beauty of his hands is also astounding. “Would you say this is cute?” You mention his earlier observations about cuteness. 

“You remembered.”

“I want to hold your hand and I want you to think I am cute.” You quote him, then tap twice on his nose. “Of course I remember, silly, but it is me holding your hand, not the opposite.”

With his lips heavily affected by all the heavy makeout, Sungchan pouts the biggest pout imaginable.

You draw parallels and say, “I swear, you look like my fish.”

He asks through his giggles, “Who kisses to kill?”

“Right…”

“And…” he is curious, “did it work?”

You sigh mockingly to mimic exhaustion. “A lot of death kisses, yes.”

His heavy arm presses your waist against his body while he tucks his head into your neck in response, seeking to stay.

For the rest of the night, Sunghcahn clings to you, making sure you realize that no one else can touch you or make you feel the way you do right now. Perhaps this is his greed getting the better of him when he realizes that you could have ended up this way with anyone at the party and that, should things change and you decide differently, you could be this way with someone else as early as next week. 

His stomach turns at the thought. Your presence tonight brought to light a more beautiful side to the things that had seemed perfect before, completely changing his life.  It seems he has a great deal left to accomplish and a lot more to prove… as an intruder.

Though as for tonight, it is as if two entirely distinct universes or two distinct parallel lines that had never intersected finally made contact with one another. You two are so in sync—the type of people sensitive to distance.

[An indefinite persistent dream.]

The best thing he could hope to hear next is,  “Mark me yours.” 

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

~

© 𝟭-𝟰𝟵. do not copy, translate, repost, and modify my works.

#jung sungchan #sungchan #riize #sungchan x reader #sungchan x yn #sungchan fanfic #sungchan oneshot #riize fanfic #riize scenarios #riize x reader #riize x y/n #riize smut #riize you #riize fic #sungchan smut #sungchan imagines #sungchan x you #jung sungchan fanfic #riize fluff

[shmolish]

AN: My parents walked into my room midway of me making this and asked me what I was doing- 😰 Um... enjoy?

Part 2:

https://www.tumblr.com/shmolish/746719597375504384/hi-read-your-um-possessive-shadow-milk-x-reader?source=share

Shadow Milk Cookie x GN! Reader

Oneshot (1/2)

Warnings: Suggestive scenes, marking, possessiveness, mild swearing. MINORS, DNI.

-Jealousy, jealousy-

You had been talking to someone new at the theater. They were naturally charming, and you couldn't help but laugh at their jokes, and smile at how they spoke.

He was obviously in love with you, but for some reason, you didn't notice.

Those hungry eyes should be obvious to anybody, though.

Little did you know, someone else had been watching the entire time.

A certain blue jester, gazing and silently hating from afar.

He knew he could make you laugh so much harder, smile so much wider... Make you feel so much better.

Surely you hadn't forgotten about him.. right?

If you did... he would just have to remind you.

You were finished talking to that person soon enough, and Shadow Milk took this as the perfect opportunity to reunite with you!

"Hello doll. Been having fun without me?" He had that normal smile on his face, like he always did. To any normal person, it would look like nothing was amiss...

But something was very wrong.. The fact that you were talking and smiling with somebody else. And the way he looked at you with those eyes- Shadow Milk Cookie absolutely despised it.

"Oh yeah, sorry about that." You would just smile awkwardly.

"Say... who exactly was he?" Shadow Milk would ask while taking your hand. He just started walking somewhere with you.

"Oh, just a guy I met today. He's pretty funny," you explained.

Shadow Milk nodded his head before quickly shoving both of you into a janitor closet.

"Ack, what are you-" Shadow Milk Cookie put a finger infront of your lips, promptly sushing you. His old smile was replaced with a more sinister and stern look.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He would take both of your hands and pin them above your head, and you could feel his breath on your neck as he moved closer to it.

"What is this for..?" You'd ask him, breath hitching as he sent butterfly kisses along the side of your neck.

"Doll, you're so oblivious that it hurts."

You could feel him begin to nip at the skin on your neck.

"You seriously didn't notice how he was looking at you?"

You would let out some quiet mewls before responding.

"I guess not-"

He bit down hard on your neck, to which you immediately whined at.

"Doll, you have to be quiet. I know you can take it~ And besides, you wouldn't want someone to hear us, right?" He would ask teasingly. You knew he had that shit-eating grin on his face.

You would shake your head and try your best to stay quiet.

"Struggling, are we? I don't see why. I've been much rougher with you before..."

He would continue sucking and biting at your neck, leaving you no time to rest.

"I guess it's entertaining though."

He moved his other free hand to slowly trail down your side, only stopping to be placed firmly around your waist. He pulled your bodies closer together, yet to him, it was never quiet close enough.

At this point, you were practically melted under his touch, and your legs were trembling.

He had told you time and time again to not be so loud... but it really couldn't be helped.

Purple and red bite marks were dotted all over you neck. There was no hiding all of them..

Shadow Milk would take his knee and nudge between your legs slightly.

"Dove, why don't we take this to the bedroom?

Fin ☆

Uh, if you guys want more, just request- 👀

#my parents would be so disappointed in me #why am I like this? #hes a cookie... #my friends think im werid #cookie run kingdom #crk #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run kingdom oneshot #oneshot #shadow milk cookie oneshots #shadow milk cookie crk #cookie run #shadow milk cookie cookie run kingdom #shadow milk cookie smut #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk cookie x reader oneshot #shadow milk cookie spicy #smut

[blingblong55]

If I could lie to you-Philip Graves

Based on a request:

! jealous ! Phillip Graves x F! Reader??? Hera me out🙏🙏 Ok so let's say shadow company & TF-141 (reader is like a sergeant in 141) are like working together for a mission, but graves has a crush on reader, but we'll just tells himself that he doesn't like her even though he really does...Let's say graves explored around the base cause she was curious on how it looked but just his luck he went into room where training usually happens and he saw reader sparring with one of there recruits seemingly helping them improve their skills, And graves did not like it one bit. The way reader holds the recruits arms, hips, shoulders everything. Despite she was just trying to help he felt jealous. That should him who she's touching like that. Not that recruit. He watched as the sparring session between the two, his attention was at her(reader) and her only. When he saw that she pinned down the recruit he felt even more jealous considering how close they were. The rest is up to you🙏🙏 sorry if it's long🙁

A/N: Don't worry anon, nothing is ever too long...well...you know what I mean

---- F!Reader, fluff, romance, soldier!reader, jealous!Graves ----

Task Force 141 and Shadow Company worked together on another mission and intel operation. You and Gaz were sent first to help Commander Graves gather intel from a base located in the Middle East. After coming back with a successful amount of intel and a day-long rest, Philip found you training and sparring with the men on his team. Velikan was instructed by Gaz himself to be rough with his training and sparring session with you, he was hesitant at first but soon warmed up to you. Graves admired you from far away the whole time, always in the back just observing and chuckling to himself when you'd win or lose a sparring match.

This kind of day has become usual for you all. So much so that you grew close to the people in Shadow Company. Eventually, Laswell instructed you to leave back to the Task force's base. Time passed and you heard little from Shadow Company.

Months pass and eventually, the task force needs the help of Shadow Company. As all the others get settled in the bunks, Graves walks around the base. He checks out all the training rooms and overall enjoys his walk around the base. From afar, a lit room could be seen. He gets curious and when he walks in, he sees Velikan and you. Originally he asked for some tips back at the Shadow Company base and this time was no different, you were teaching him ways to improve his stance and some other easier ways of fighting.

Graves leans on a darkened wall, lights dim on that side where he was at. All those months when you stayed with Shadow Company, he admired you from afar, rarely talked to you but was always so polite. If you asked Gaz about why Graves was that way with you, he would smirk and shrug. It eventually created a small fixation in Graves's head, liking you was more of a hobby when he would learn things you liked, all so he could impress you someday. When that someday didn't arrive and Gaz and you flew back to England, he lost hope in confessing. After that, he told himself he didn't like you, that it was just him being some desperate single military man and that, that was the reason behind him improving himself for you. It had to be, right? Not because you were so smart, funny, strong and beautiful…not that.

Now as he watches a man from his team be so close to you, it seems unfair. What does he have that Graves doesn't? Not charisma, that's for sure. So, he kept cool and walked away. With time, he got close to the others in your team. He was brave enough to command an army of men and women yet he couldn't confess that he liked you and that he would do his best to be the man you deserve. And then…your hand went to his shoulder, Velikan's hand on your hip as you taught him one of your favourite yet best moves. You and he laughed trying to stay serious and as he and you fought using all the moves taught that is when Graves walked to you both.

Before you even noticed him, Velikan was pinned to the ground. It was impressive but Graves did not like it at all. He was supposed to be the one there, to have you in his arms, both for comfort and for other activities. Maybe for lovemaking. "Sergeant, get off my soldier and Velikan, get out." He said through gritted teeth. Shit, did Soap get him in a bad mood again? You thought. "Graves we are training-" the man tried to explain. "Do not give me a reason to make you run around the base- a matter of fact go fucking run." He snapped his fingers in the direction of the door. "Don't abuse your power-" Velikan tried once more but failed. "OUT!"

When he left the training room, Graves turned to you. "You know, you didn't have to be rude to him," you speak calmly. "I did, especially with what he was doing." Your brows furrowed, "What was he doing?" Graves shook his head in disbelief, it was as if you didn't notice how the man touched his girl…his fucking girl. "He was touching you, what's more to explain." You chuckle, "Oh that? No we were sparring," you explain but still, he didn't see it that way.

"No…not the way he looked at you, not how he grabbed you and especially not how he stared at you. What, are you training him on how to get women?" You sigh, a stubborn man he is. "No, and besides that is still no reason to get mad." "Maybe it isn't but-…fuck it- I like you…no I feel strongly about you. I like you Sergeant R/N, you are a sweet girl and you are so independent and funny and so cute and…why can't you see me?" You were taken by surprise and before a smile fully formed on your lips, he continued. "Do you have any idea what I'd do for you?" "…I don't think so-"

"And that is our problem. I would do it all. I like how you are so positive and so naive, it's absurd how it took me so long to say this. If one day you look up to the sky and see no stars, it's because I stole them for you. Even if you weren't real I would make you up, I'd brag about how beautiful your heart is, even if it gets me killed. I like how smart you are, and how you glow when you share a fact about something, it's beautiful to watch you stand up for yourself and how gorgeous it is to see you be so independent and I'll admit I want to be the guy you depend on for basic needs."

He walks closer, "I wouldn't disappoint you, trust me okay? I want to see you shine, want to see you glow and be the centre of a room. I want to be the guy you go home to. I want you, the good, bad and everything you can give me." His hands hold yours, placing them over his heart. "If I could lie to you, I'd say I don't believe in love at first sight. But when I saw you be you, how you didn't change no matter the situation, that's when I fell in love."

"Graves-" "Let me confess it all, R/N…please just let me say the words I've been dying to say." One nod from you and he goes on. "One stare from you, just one and it makes my day. You pat my back after a long day and I go to my room excited to prove the next day that I am worth more than a pat. That I can be the guy to watch from the stands as you shine. I get it now, I get why those romance films get you excited, why you read romance, I do because now I know and understand how good and strong real love feels."

"What if I'm not the girl you think I am?" "You see, that's where you are wrong." "I am?" "Yes, let me explain, okay?" "…okay." your voice small "With every girl I've ever met, I never felt this strong about them. With reason, I know now that all those kisses from past lovers were missing something, they were missing you…" "But-" "My love, please let me explain further." He takes a deep breath and looks at you with conviction, "I was full of doubt, I was scared of why I didn't feel so strongly about someone." He kisses your hands and places them back over his heart. "It's so lovely to get to know you, truly. I promise that someday, when we get married, you'll be the one who runs it, whatever you say goes and that is final." You chuckle and he smiles. "I'm being serious here."

"I want to give you reasons to fall for me every day of our lives. I need to be the guy who you look at and smile and go, 'Yeah…I did right' and I swear to be that forever."

"What if you are fooling me?"

"I'm not, I swear by all that I care for that I am not."

"Pinky promise?"

He chuckles and holds his pinky finger out, "I pinky promise to always love you, to be the man who stands here today and pours his heart out. I pinky promise to be good…to be excellent and never make you cry…well unless we laugh too hard…or if we get rough when we make love…" When both of your pinkies link he kisses them and wraps his arms around you. His warm lips are on your forehead as he kisses it repeatedly and whispers sweet nothings.

If this were a lie, your heart and his wouldn't sync, and your heartbeats wouldn't beat for each other. If he could lie to you, you wouldn't be preparing to walk down the aisle a year later. If he could lie to you, you wouldn't be home, sitting on the sofa, his arms wrapped around you as you chose names for the child you carry. The same one that was made out of pure love. If only he could lie…

A/N: isn't he so perfect....besides the war crimes of course....

Tags:

@puffinhp @chicfille222 @rowrowrowyourboat13 @fanofstuffidk @staniyabuns @underwatertales @graesage @liyanahelena @johfaam0 @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @frazie99 @viomast @night-mare-owl-79 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @baldwinhearts @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @luvecarson

#philip graves x you #shadow company #cod mw #cod graves #philip graves x reader #graves cod #call of duty modern warfare #graves x reader #graves mwii #graves x you #graves mw2 #philip graves fluff #philip graves imagine #philip graves #shadow company x reader #cod fluff #cod philip graves #cod modern warfare #cod #cod x reader #mwii #cod mw2 #mw2 141 #cod mwii #cod mw3 #mw2 #call of duty #cod velikan

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hey author, can you please please pretty please make a reader who is just chaos incarnate getting isekaied to Kny but they spawn in with a gun that straight up erases demons like literally kills them in one brush against skin. Bonus points if reader is like a cyberpunk

Pls pls pls

Chaotic Reader | Yandere Demon Slayer

Chaos incarnate you lure both the demons and the demonslayers into a fearful love for you

Completely out of sorts all of the time all who meet you pin you for some odd foreigner

Who has weird looking guns that destroy anything they touch 

Blip! 

Out of existence

Its frankly horrifying 

For demons and their hunters alike

So there are three categories of those who are graced with the gift of meeting you

Category 1: Those who want to tame you

To them you are a wild, wicked, and alluring+ creature that they should hold the reigns to

Sanemi is intent on taking your guns and lock you away You remind him of another idiot with a gun

Muzan too lands in category 1, absolutely peeved that such a nonsensical wildcard can possibly defeat him 

Even worse he can’t bring himself not to kill you

No matter he’ll settle for turning you as long as you don’t turn him first

Category 2: Are those who don’t mind your craziness 

and instead delight to love you from afar or up close 

Tanjiro is one of these few, chuckling to himself as you make another bizarre summersaulting entrance

Or Kokushibo who doesn’t do anything will fondly tilt his head when you start dancing during a fight

Now surely those in category 2 don’t have the urge to tame you some do

they just want to be there with you through it all

Finally Category 3: Are those who’d prefer to join in with your shenanigans

Like Inosuke who sees you as a worthy ally considering you’re wild factor

And who better to get on the same wavelength as you with the best view to your chaos

Or like Doma who thinks you’re the most entertaining little human he’s ever met

Yeah you could kill him but who said he didn’t find fear hot

Either category you’re chaotic nature is a delectable and dangerous treat that many try to take ahold of

#yandere demon slayer #yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere kny x reader #yandere kny

[special-agent-sass]

Brighter Future

Warnings: Smut, Dominant Gibbs.

I wanted to try something new so I wrote this in the typical third-person POV but focusing on Gibbs’ thoughts rather than the reader’s. I don’t know how to feel about it.. read it, tell me what ya think haha. I tried my best.

Gibbs slammed the basement door behind him, his jaw clenched in frustration. That damn woman was going to be the death of him. When he'd seen Y/N leave the bar with some pretty boy, laughing and flirting, his gut had twisted into knots. He knew it was irrational - she wasn't his to claim - but that did nothing to temper the surge of jealousy burning through him.

Taking a deep breath, Gibbs tried to rein in his emotions as he started sanding the latest addition to his boat. It was a lost cause, though. No matter how hard he focused on the rhythmic strokes, his mind kept drifting back to her.

Y/N Y/L/N. The beautiful, stubborn, reckless thorn in his side. From the moment she'd joined his team two years ago, Gibbs had been drawn to her like a moth to a flame. With her leather jacket, tattooed skin, those damn tight jeans and devil-may-care attitude, she was everything he never knew he wanted.

They clashed constantly, her recklessness grating against his rigid control. But underneath the arguments simmered an attraction that left them both flustered and on-edge. He'd catch her gazing at him when she thought he wasn't looking, green eyes dark with longing. It took every ounce of restraint not to pin her against the wall and kiss that smart mouth of hers until neither of them could breathe.

Gibbs switched to a finer grit sandpaper, losing himself in the methodical motions. This was useless. She consumed his thoughts whether he liked it or not. He remembered the first time he saw her - long dark hair spilling over a muscular back, tight jeans accentuating every curve. When she'd turned and met his gaze, Gibbs felt a spark of electricity jolt through him. No one had affected him like that in a long time.

From that moment on, she was always there, challenging him, pushing his buttons. He lived for their clashes, the passion simmering between them. But he had to be careful. Dating a co-worker never ended well, and she was too young for the likes of him anyway.

So Gibbs had resigned himself to longing from afar, sure she would never share his inappropriate feelings. Seeing her with that young punk at the bar, Gibbs' restraint shattered like glass. The thought of her going home with someone else sent him into a possessive rage he didn't recognize.

Gibbs looked up when he heard his front door open. Speak of the devil. Y/N hesitated at the top of the stairs, uncertainty clouding her features. His heart stuttered as their eyes met. God she was beautiful, even with her lip caught between her teeth and uncharacteristic vulnerability lurking in her gaze.

Setting the sandpaper down, Gibbs turned to face her. "Shouldn't you be out with your boyfriend?" He winced as the words came out harsher than he intended.

Y/N didn't seem offended, though. Slowly descending the stairs, she said "He's not my boyfriend. Just an old friend from high school."

Gibbs watched her approach, the sway of her hips hypnotic. His mouth went dry when she stopped mere inches away, tilting her face up to meet his gaze.

"I didn't go home with him. I realized there was somewhere else I wanted to be instead."

Gibbs' pulse roared in his ears as her meaning sank in. Unable to stop himself, he reached out and caressed her cheek, thrilling when she leaned into his touch. Her skin was so soft under his calloused fingers and he ached to explore every inch of her.

"Y/N..." he started, but she placed a delicate finger over his lips.

"I'm tired of dancing around this, Jethro. I want you. I've wanted you from the moment I saw you."

That was all the permission Gibbs needed. With a groan he threaded his fingers through her hair and claimed her mouth in a searing kiss. She melted against him instantly, nails scraping down his back as she kissed him back fiercely. It was better than any fantasy - the taste of her, the feel of her supple body aligning with his.

Gibbs maneuvered them until Y/N was pinned between him and the workbench. His hands drifted down to grip her ass, pulling her tight against him as he dominated the kiss, taking everything she offered. When they finally broke for air, he took in her kiss-swollen lips and darkened gaze. She was a vision.

"I need you. Now," Y/N panted, and Gibbs heartily agreed. He made quick work of her shirt, groaning at the expanse of tattooed skin revealed. Dropping hot, open-mouthed kisses along her neck, he deftly unhooked her bra and palmed her breasts. Y/N moaned loudly when he bit down on the skin below her jaw, the sound shooting straight to his groin.

He deftly unbuttoned her jeans. His hand slipped inside, finding her hot and wet for him already. Y/N cried out as he stroked her. Her head fell back, exposing the graceful column of her throat. he ducked down to kiss and nip his way up to her ear.

"Tell me you're mine," Gibbs growled.

"Yes, all yours," she panted.

Gibbs withdrew his hand, ignoring her noise of protest as he stripped her jeans off. He bent her over the table.

"You've been teasing me for months in these tight jeans," Gibbs said gruffly, caressing her ass. He gave her a sharp smack and she yelped. "Now you're going to get what you deserve."

He intended to take his time worshipping every inch of her, but Y/N was having none of it. She looked over her shoulder at him with lustful eyes and begged "please, just take me!"

Well, who was he to deny such a polite request?

He freed myself from his own jeans. With one powerful thrust he was buried inside her tight heat. Y/N cried out, pushing back against him. Gibbs set a relentless pace, all the desire he’d bottled up spilling out.

"Harder!" she gasped. He obliged, gripping her hips bruisingly tight.

Gibbs could feel her getting close, inner muscles starting to flutter around him. He reached around to circle her clit and she shattered with a scream, her climax triggering his. He came hard, emptying himself deep inside her.

Later, they lay tangled together on a pile of blankets, her head pillowed on his chest. Idly trailing his fingers over her back, Gibbs pressed a kiss into her hair.

"What made you change your mind about us?" he asked.

Y/N tilted her face up to meet his gaze. "I saw the way you looked at me tonight. Like I was something precious. No one's ever looked at me like that before."

Gibbs' heart swelled and he pulled her close. "You are precious. And you're mine now."

She smiled softly. "Yours. As long as you'll have me."

"Forever then," he stated simply. Y/N's eyes shone at that and she snuggled into his embrace.

As Gibbs held the beautiful, reckless woman who had captured his heart, he sent up a silent thanks to whoever had brought her crashing into his life. With her by his side, the future seemed brighter than ever.

#gibbs x reader #gibbs x y/n #jethro gibbs #jethro gibbs imagine #leroy jethro gibbs #ncis gibbs #gibbs smut #smut #ncis fanfiction #jethro gibbs x reader

[sukunasweetheart]

can i just say i love your fics SMMMM my serotonin boost fr!!! what do we think abt him with an s/o who has a lot of admirers 👁

THANK YOUU here is a treat 4 u <3

sorry i ended up doing too much and also going off-topic a bit oops

it ended up becoming modern au!sukuna 😭 forgive me (gender neutral reader)

sukuna is so used to being the one overshadowing the others - he's used to being the one admired, revered, respected, for his power and intelligence. it's safe to say he'd also be used to seeing people fight each other just for a lick of his attention - desiring for even just a glance from his way. so it's a given that he's not used to feelings of possessiveness or jealousy.

but now that he has you, someone who always has others admiring you from both closeby and afar, he's beginning to understand those petty sensations and thoughts. he's obviously never one to be insecure about your popularity, on most occasions, he even likes to make a show of it - he enjoys seeing them gnashing their teeth with envy as he flaunts his relationship with you in front of their faces - "see this? all mine," he seems to say, as he openly kisses you in public.

but when it catches him on a bad day, perhaps following a bad argument, he sees you with someone who is obviously interested in being more than just a friend to you (which you're not aware of, frustratingly so), and he starts feeling sick to his stomach. with everyone else who came before you, sukuna would simply tell them "don't like it? then leave," whenever they voiced complaints to him about their relationship... but now it's the opposite of what he wants. just the thought of you being with someone that isn't him gets his heart dropping to the ground, making him feel restless.

he knows he isn't the best at being soft. nor at using the kindest words when he gets heated. he'll always be more selfish than selfless, and he's not the most emotionally intelligent. it's unlike him to use words like 'i'm sorry' or 'i love you' so he's uneasy for the moment where you might find someone who'll be everything that he isn't amongst your sea of admirers, and that you'll leave him and never look back.

it's simply so humiliating, feeling this way... he's not sure what to do about it. you seem to be seriously upset this time around, and he knows brushing past it or glossing over it using his usual charm (which is a bad habit that he has) isn't going to work. you're not acknowledging him or responding to his texts properly or saying good morning or goodnight and it's driving him insane because he misses it... you're not looking at him. he's the one gazing at you, longingly.

sukuna will pin you down eventually, somewhere, somehow, and trap you so that you're not able to avoid him any longer. he'll drag you away from your stupid little crowd of spectators and talk to you in private, where'll spend ten minutes trying to apologise in a strange, roundabout and aggressive way because he knows it's his own damn fault. you know him, so you're able to recognise that he's trying to say sorry. your gaze is still elsewhere, looking off to the side instead of him. and that bothers him immensely.

"why won't you look at me?" god, he sounds so sad and pathetic.

truth is, sukuna now simply withers out and dies a little without your attention. what can he do to have that spotlight upon him once again? why are your eyes on anybody, anything, that isn't him? pay attention to me, and me only.

when you finally spare him a glance, he feels like breathing again. and he'll fight tooth and nail to keep that gaze of yours on him. fuck your insignificant and measly admirers. he's all you need, and sukuna's going to make sure of it. (he'll compromise for you, if he has to.)

he's definitely overstimming you in bed that night, in order to catch up on all the lost pride and attention that you'd deprived him of.

tagging; @gojos-thot-patrol <3 hope its to your liking.. even tho its not as angsty as i originally intended it to be haha

Masterlist

#he's basically like a cat meowing at you for attention #sukuna x reader #sukuna #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[romiyaro]

ᴘʀᴀɴᴋ - #2 - "ʜɪᴄᴋᴇʏ ᴘʀᴀɴᴋ!!"

✧ 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝗮𝘁𝘀𝘂𝗺𝘂, 𝗼𝗶𝗸𝗮𝘄𝗮, 𝗸𝗮𝗴𝗲𝘆𝗮𝗺𝗮, 𝘀𝗮𝗸𝘂𝘀𝗮 𝘅 𝗴𝗻!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

✧ 𝗰𝘄: 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳, 𝗮 𝗯𝗶𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝘁𝘀𝘂𝗺𝘂 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝗮𝗸𝘂𝘀𝗮'𝘀

✧ 𝗻𝗲𝘁𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 : @tokyometronetwork

✧ 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝗮-𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝗺𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗲𝘀 @yofumi 𝗮𝗻𝗱 @suyacho 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘂 𝗴𝘂𝘆𝘀<𝟯

ꕤ ᴀᴛꜱᴜᴍᴜ – ᴛʜ�� ᴀɢɢʀᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍʙᴏ

“Oh, I think I bit ya too hard last time. The hickey’s still visible.” He chuckles. But the chuckle fades out and a frown takes its place as he notices that the hickey is located at the column of your throat instead of the base of your neck where he loves to mark you. 

“Babe?” He calls out quietly. You hum, busy fake-reading the book and biting hard at your lips to keep them from bursting out laughing at the look on Atsumu’s face. 

Frowning harder, he grabs you from the couch, ignoring your yelp as he sets you on his lap, face closing in as he studies the hickey-like marking closely. You try pushing him away, but he simply manhandles your hands behind your back and holds them there singlehandedly. With the thumb of his other hand he rubs vigorously at the hickey, successfully smudging the makeup. 

His frown turns into a full-blown grin as he observes the red smudge on his thumb, half angry half smug face looking up at you. “Ya really thought ya fooled me, huh?” 

You scowl at him, “You weren’t supposed to find out so soon.” You pout, trying to wiggle out of his lap. Atsumu lets out a throaty laugh, his arms coming around you, wrapping you up in a tight embrace, “Where d’ya think ya going, hmm? We still gotta decide on a punishment for ya.” You were bold to assume he would let you off scot-free after that stunt.

ꕤ ᴏɪᴋᴀᴡᴀ – ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴋɴᴇᴡ

You were stupid to assume he wouldn’t know of such a commonplace prank. Oikawa is a very popular person. 

And that reflects on his social media life too. He knows of all the pranks in existence. 

So when he sees you walking around the house flaunting a hickey that he has no idea when he gave you, he freezes for a second before he bursts out laughing. Not expecting that you stop mid-action. You look at h im confused, “What’s wrong?” His laughter only turns harder at your question. You pout, annoyed. Did he not notice the hickey you worked so hard to perfect? 

“It’s-” he starts, only to break down into fervent giggles, “It’s nothing, bunny. You are just so cute!” He exclaims, wheezing. You scowl at him. “What’s so funny?” Oikawa looks up at  you from the couch, “You really wanna know?” 

“Hit me with it.” You jut your chin out stubbornly, putting the hickey on show. Oikawa looks at it for a second and starts laughing again, even harder. He grabs his stomach, “Owh babe, please. I- I can’t- Gosh!” 

Grabbing his phone he clicks a quick picture of you standing there. Calming his breathing he types something out on his phone. And as he places it back down, your phone dings. It’s an Instagram notification and when you click it you are directed to Oikawa’s post tagging you, captioned– “Look at them trying to prank me with that barely passable hickey!” What’s even more hilarious is that the photo taken from that angle indeed looks very funny. Your face heats up.

Feeling embarrassed at being found out so quick, you throw your phone onto the couch. “TOOORRUUUUUUU!!!” you yell as you jump at him, ready for a battle. The little playfighting does not go on for long as he has you pinned to the couch in a matter of seconds. “Try something new next time, baby.” He winks at you, swooping down to capture your lips in a hot kiss.

ꕤ ᴋᴀɢᴇʏᴀᴍᴀ – ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴜꜱᴘɪᴄɪᴏᴜꜱ ɪɴᴛᴇʀʀᴏɢᴀᴛᴏʀ

His eyes widen like saucers when he first caught sight of the hickey mark on your neck, and you do your best to hold the laughter in at his comical look. He didn’t say anything though, opting to observe you from afar. Then a bit close. Then very close. You were flipping the pancake as you hummed a random song. Kageyama leans at the counter beside you, casually asking you, “Where were you today?” You smile at him, “I met some friends today!” He tilts his head, giving you long sideglances and hoping he’s being subtle, “Oh? Who are these friends?” You giggle, “My high school friends, idiot! Didn’t I tell you about them?” “Oooh… Those…” he trails off, trying to remember all the names you had said would be there. There’s nobody suspicious that would leave a mark on you like that. “Anyone else joined your meetup?” You gleam, excitedly telling him, “Oooh, yes! There was this hot guy who came up to us and hung out with us! He was cool. Ro took him home.” You play it cool, knowing Kageyama hates it when you call other men adjectives like cool and hot infront of him. 

“Nothing else happened?” his eyes narrow. You turn to look a him. Kageyama snaps his head, quickly looking away. You act dumb, “What do you mean?” Kageyama gulps, “You didn’t–” He starts, “You didn’t cheat on me, did you?” Fake-surprised, you gasp, “What? No! Why would you say that?” 

He points to your throat, eyes already misty, “There’s- there’s a little something on your neck.” He looks away, trying to hide the moisture slowly collecting on his eyes. Kageyama is a silent lover, and watching him in pain pained you too. Switching off the gas, you cup his face, making him look at you. “Tobio. Tobio, hey!” You say softly, making him focus on you. “I’m sorry. It was just a prank.” 

He grimaces, closing his eyes and letting the tears drop on either cheek, “I hate you for this.” He whispers, arms pulling you to his chest. You can feel the rumbling in his chest as he shudders at the possibility of you cheating on him. It makes you sad and guilty, “I’m sorry, Tobio. Promise I won’t do that ever again.” You rub at his back comfortingly. He pulls back, “Promise?” he demands. “Promise.” You nod at him as he pulls you in for a kiss.

ꕤ ꜱᴀᴋᴜꜱᴀ ᴋɪʏᴏᴏᴍɪ – ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʙʟɪᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴏɴᴇ

You close the door gently behind you, not wanting to disturb your boyfriend if he was asleep. As you remove your shoes, Sakusa’s head pops from the bedroom. “You are late.” You chuckle, “No shit, Sherlock. I had to work overtime.” 

He hums, looking at the clock that’s striking half past ten. “Did you have dinner?” You shake your head. And as if on cue, your stomach grumbles and he grins at the embarrassed expression on your face. “Come on, I’ll heat up the leftovers for you.” Nodding your head you move to the dining table, cracking your neck strategically as you walk past him, offering him a clear glance at the hickey-like mark decorating your neck. 

Sitting at  the dining table, you look at the brooding boyfriend. “What’s up?” You ask, knowing well that he saw the faux-hickey. Sakusa’s brows furrow and he shakes his head, “Wait a minute, I’ll be right back.” he says before striding over to the bedroom. You look at the bedroom confused until he returns. And when you see what he brought with him your eyes widen. 

Jumping up from your seat you rush to quickly put the dining table between you ans Sakusa. “Come here, y/n.” Sakusa says menacingly, his choice of weapon - a spraybottle filled with liquid hand sanitizer in his hand. “Why the hand sanitizer?” You question. “You need to be cleaned up a bit.” 

“No, I don’t?” 

“Stop fussing, baby. I’ll clean you up real quick.” You squeal as Sakusa suddenly jumps over the table. You dash away from the table, rushing into the living room with Sakusa hot on your heels. “Stop! Stop chasing me!” You holler as you both circle the sofa, giggling at the same time. 

“Can’t, love. I must clean you up this instant.” He somberly states before leaping over the sofa. This time luck is against you as his long arm wraps around your waist, yanking you to his lap as he sits on the sofa. Pinning your hands above your head, he sprays the liquid hand sanitizer on your neck. 

You squeal at the unpleasantly wet and cold sensation on your neck. Sakusa grabs a handkerchief from his pajama pocket and rubs vigorously at your neck, easily removing the stain. And he only leaves you once he ensures that your neck is spotless.

”All good.” He smiles looking down at you. “Did you know that was supposed to be a hickey?” Sakusa’s eyes widen momentarily, but then he looks at the color stain on his handkerchief and looks back at you questioningly. You sigh, sitting up in his lap and explaining what a hickey prank is. “But if you wanted a hickey, I could just give you one?” He questions, looking at you judgingly.

Reblogs, comments and positive criticism accepted!

© romiyaro 2022 - do not copy, steal, modify or repost on Tumblr or other social media

#haikyuu x gn!reader #atsumu x gn!reader #oikawa x gn!reader #kageyama x gn!reader #sakusa x gn!reader #miya atsumu x reader #oikawa x reader #atsumu x reader #kageyama x reader #sakusa x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu pranks

[tmzrkstan]

nct dream as teen romances.

•----------••----------••----------••----------••-------•

★warnings: maybe cursing, relationship between minors (legal).

★genre: fluff, romantic tropes, (kinda of) korean school trope.

•----------••----------••----------••----------••-------•

★Mark:

•Not just a boyfriend, also a bandmate;

•Beeing raised abroad gave him an advantage to join the band (english speaker), and of course, his ability with music;

•You and your friends found everything that were looking for to complete what became a kinda famous band in the city;

•Don't took long for you two get along and spend some afternoons with his guitar and a composition book: "You did in a few days what the music did in my whole life."

•When the relantionship became official you just couldn't separate from each other;

•The lovely looks during performances, dates in karaokes and make out sessions at the "backstage" were always present;

•"We can't be sure about the band future, but I know we're never splitting up."

★Renjun:

• The boy admired you for a long time from afar;

•When he heard from a friend that you were looking for a boyfriend he gained courage;

•He had to miss some afternoons and even morning classes in order to finish a project to win you over;

•That's why you found a drawing of you made by hand, which was noticeable the use of watercolor, and behind it, his initials;

•You soon realized who it was from and decided to text him, which led to a sleepless night with your cell phone;

•Without taking too long to return the feelings, you started dating and he nicknamed you as his "muse";

•You can be sure that your dates would always end with you taking a drawing home, whether on a small canvas or on a napkin from the restaurant you went to;

•"The best part of drawing you is being able to look at you as much as I want."

★Jeno:

•If it wasn't for the jock who falls in love with the cheerleader, I'd be lying;

•Despite his popularity, he had to struggle to get the attention of everyone on the team, which led to him crashing several rehearsals;

•He made his interest obvious when he scored a decisive point in the game and dedicate it to you in front of the whole school;

•The minute I became his girlfriend, the whole school would suffer because of you two, like the team being forced to participate in his surprises, the game being stopped for you to kiss each other at each point;

•Despite the masculine and strong exterior, inside he looked like a puppy running after his owner, he was completely passionate and silly. It's visible how he would try to help you with the cheerleading thing;

•"So, the deal is if I win the game tonight, I got a make out session for as long as I want?"

★Haechan:

•At first, no one could tell if you were friends or not;

•You competed with everything you could for years now, Hyuck knew how to make you lose and made a point of winning every time, whether in a test, sports or any activity;

•One day you got tired of it all, making it clear to him that you didn't care about it anymore, and that sent him into a fit;

•His friends consoled him that this was his final victory, but he knew well that he wanted to win you instead. Pride made him say nothing 'till the moment;

•He chased you for days and you just ran, until you had no choice when he pinned you to the wall of an empty hallway: "You really are very stupid for not understanding what I wanted all of this time";

•Sure had a lot more drama until yall finally bring fellings out and started dating, a relationship full of silly little fights and a lot of teasing on both sides, this time with some kisses, caresses and loving words in between;

•"I admit you won, look who you made fall in love with you."

★Jaemin:

•You had your reasons and he had an (toxic) ex he wanted to win back, a little gossip going around and you ended up in a fake relationship;

•The plan was doing great, everyone was getting what they wanted, or at least what you thought that you wanted;

•After weeks of "fake" dates, talking about your lives, sharing secrets and dreams, Jaemin couldn't care less when his ex showed up at his house: "Sorry, but There's no way, I'm completely in love with her."

•When he realized this, appeared the other day at school with a huge bouquet and an even bigger smile stating that dating would no longer be fake;

•You thought he could take it back later, but the kisses and declarations of love he gave you made it clear how right he was about It;

•"In the very first minute of our deal, my feelings already became real, it would be impossible not to."

★Chenle:

•It's not like anyone was really forbidding it, like arresting you at home or hiring a security guard to follow you around, but your parents made it clear that they were against it;

•His family, more modest, did not agree with the luxurious way that Chenle lived with his, who preferred that his son was with someone more similar;

•They imagined that this was going to happen, that's why they even took a while to start dating, but when they got together, there was nothing he wouldn't do for you;

•The boy was used to always getting what he wanted, and this time it would be no different, he would just have to change his strategy, like going on hidden dates, finding empty places at school and running away at midnight, it made everything harder, but more exciting;

•"You can't give up on us, it's hard right now, but I promisse I'll make it worth it."

★Jisung:

•You two been friends since the first day you can remember;

•Always inseparable, if one wasn't welcome in a group of friends then the other wouldn't even consider staying in it;

•They faced everything together, all the first experiences, like tests, graduations, parties, simply everything. Even first love, which Jisung took a long time to realize when feelings changed;

•He freaked out every time he saw some guy trying to hit on you, or when you seemed interested in another one, but he didn't want to confess and look like a silly teen that ruins the friendship;

•You're the one who had to admit you liked him first, or you'd never start dating. And everyone, including the families, loved it.

•It doesn't changed much in reality, apart from the kissing/toching and your parents no longer letting you stay alone in your bedroom for so long.

•"I can't wait to spend my whole with my best friend."

•----------••----------••----------••----------••-------•

author: Hope yall like It<3

#nct #kpop #imagine #nct dream #nct dream imagines #park jisung #mark lee #haechan #jaemin #lee jeno #renjun #chenle #nct dream x reader #kpop imagines #nct dream reactions #romantic tropes

[l44serbeam]

walk you home

robin buckley x fem!reader summary : robin has seen y/n, around a lot recently. Now, at a party Steve dragged her to, she thought the night couldn't get any worse but right when she was about to leave, she notices her stumbling into the bathroom, way too sad for her liking. a/n : This is very directly inspired by Walk You Home by Sir Chloe cause i was listening to it and for some reason imagined Robin to it and i HAD to write it. Also lmk if y’all are interested in a part 2.

    ❀ warnings: fluff, underage drinking, cursing, mentions of vomit, nothing really inappropriate just that ‘boobs’ are mentioned and y/n mentions hooking up with a girl

The blaring music and loud chatter had Robins mind running in circles. She thought that maybe with a drink or two would help ease her mind, as Steve suggested, but it made everything ten times worse.

The edge of the alcohol made the terrible music unbearable and Steve's constant hollering also didn’t aid her in any way. 

Now, sitting on a crooked couch, one of its legs missing and making it tilt and violently shake at the slightest movements, Robin sat there. Her eyes were scanning the room and bodies of people dancing, her drink held in between her knees and hands covering it. 

“ROBBYY!” Steve hollered from her right. She looked up at him, her face coated in annoyance. The man flopped onto the couch besides her, making it rock back and creak. 

“Shit.” He mumbled, abruptly throwing his torso forward and bending down to look at the missing leg of the couch. 

He was very drunk. 

“Steve, why did i let you drag me here.” Robin said, trying to raise her voice over the music. 

“Because, Robin. You!” He brought up his pointer finger to Robins face, attempting to boop her nose but missing and poking her cheek. “Are my dearest friend. Best i might even say.” 

Robin rolled her eyes and swatted his hand away. “I wanna go but i don’t want to leave you here considering you’re shit-faced. How’re you getting home?”

“WOw Buckeroo. You are a greeeeaaat friend.” He said, truly seeming to mean it. “I’m probably just gonna walk. It’s just like two blocks.” 

“Ok. I’ll call you in the morning dingus.” She said without missing a moment to get up to go. 

Robin pushed her way through the crowd of people, getting pushed around back and forth. 

As she made it through, she saw her. Y/n y/l/n.

Robin had seen her around the block, only living two houses away from each other. She was the girl Robin stared at from afar. She was the girl Robin thought of every night before going to bed and the girl she endlessly ranted to Steve about.

According to him, there was no way y/n wasn’t gay. He pointed out the doodles of boobs on her converse, the rainbow bracelet she always had on and the suspicious pins she had on her back pack.

Robin excused it, saying y/n was merely a teenage girl with a colorful style and unique taste in bands and movies.

But, there she was, in all her glory. She wore a loose black floral dress and black jean jacket on top with her doodle coated converse. Her hair was tucked behind her ears and eyes dull, staring into the shot glass in her hand as she leaned against the wall. 

Guess I’m not the only one having a shitty time. Robin thought. Robin stopped her movements, standing to the side of the crowd as she watched her from a distance, admiring her. 

Just before Robin was about to turn and leave, y/n looked up into the crowd, her eyes looking forward and catching a glimpse of something she obviously didn’t want to see. Then, she pushed herself off of the wall and bolted in the direction of the bathroom.

She was obviously upset. 

Instead of going the other way to the exit of the house, she instinctively pushed her way through the crowd once again and towards the bathroom. When she made it to the door of the bathroom, it was slightly open.

She slowly leaned in, putting her ear near the crack. 

All she heard were sniffles and quiet cries. With that, she slowly opened the door to see y/n sitting on the ground, hands on her face and makeup running down her cheeks. 

“Y/n?” Robin called gently, backing the girl look up. 

“Shit, Robin. Hey.” She said, wiping the tears off her face. 

Robin stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her, this time fully. 

“Sorry i like barged in. I didn’t mean to. Well i mean, i kinda did i guess. I- i saw you run in here and you looked pretty upset and i wanted to make sure you’re ok but i shouldn’t have just walked in, sorry about that.” Robin rambled, her hands fiddling with one another. 

Y/n laughed lightly, wiping her nose. “Thanks. Im ok but could you help me up?” 

“Y-yes of course of course.” Robin said quickly, grabbing the shot glass out of her hand and placing it on the bathroom counter and then helping her up. Almost tripping as she stood up, Robin put one hand under her arm and the other on her waist.

“Thanks.” y/n said, looking up to make eye contact with the girl. 

“No problemo.” Robin said, her eyes wide as she looked back at her. She felt her heart beat grow faster at the place where her hand rested and the closeness of their faces, the smell of cheap tequila and lavender invaded her senses. Robin wanted to be bathed in the scent. 

After a moment of silence, Robin cleared her throat and brought back her hands. Y/n couldn't lie, a hint of disappointment struck in her at the retreat of Robins hands.

“Sorry about this. Just saw some shit I'd rather not have seen.” Y/n said, clearly avoiding having to explain what it was. Robin wasn’t about the pressure her so instead, she nodded understandingly. 

“Get how that feels.” She related, unknowingly comforting y/n.

Y/n turned to face the mirror and began using a wet tissue to wipe off her smeared makeup. Robin stood behind her, looking at her through the mirror.

In all honesty, she had no idea what to do. It was the first time she’d ever found the girl she secretly liked crying on the bathroom floor at a party and she really did not feel like messing this up.

What would Steve do, what would Steve do. Robin repeated to herself, racking through her brain to find some kind of guidance that would suggest what would be most appropriate to do. 

“Can i walk you home?” Robin finally asked as y/n threw away the tissue. 

Y/n turned to face her and smiled “That'd be great but i don't want to drag you away from the party just cause i'm a crybaby.”

“No no no, i was just about to leave. I swear, you could ask Steve. Plus you live like really close to me so it's not like it would be to taxing. That sounded kinda weird, that i know where you live. I'm not a stalker or anything like that it's just i've seen you leave your house a few times in the morning before school so i thought it was pretty safe to assume you live there.” Robin nervously rambled. 

It was quite cute, the way she did. At least y/n thought so. 

Y/n giggled at Robins endless loop of self incrimination then attempt at explanation, incriminating herself again in the explanation.

“Ok then, shall we, stalker girl?” Y/n said, gesturing to the bathroom door, Robin blushing hard at the name.

“Y-yeah.” She said.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“There’s no way!” Robin laughed.

“No, i'm not kidding! I swear to god he literally projectile vomited ALL over her. It was insane! I didn’t know what to do!” Y/n said, telling Robin about a party incident from a few days ago.

The night was warm, the smell of summer rising from the earth. The two walked along the side of the road, dimly illuminated by the old street lights above them. 

Robin walked with her hands stuffed in the pocket of her jacket, looking at y/n as she told the story.

Robin was happy to see there was no reminisces of sadness on her face. Only a big bright smile.

“I think i would’ve immediately run. I don't do well with vomit. Not after an incident from a while back.” Robin added, face contorting in disgust at the memory of Steve and her on the bathroom floor after escaping the Russian base, the bathroom spinning around her endlessly.

Y/n laughed at Robins expression, looking directly at her eyes. “Must’ve been truly horrid.”

“Terrifying.”

Robin looked up from the ground and to y/n’s gaze, the two smiling at each other once they walked. 

Y/n thought Robin was the most beautiful girl shed laid eyes on. Cheeks so rosy and thousands of freckles. She had a smile like no other and lips so delightfully pink and kissable it should be illegal.

“I like you Buckley. Don’t know why we aren’t closer.” Y/n said, nudging her with her elbow. 

Robin blushed and looked back down at the ground. Little did y/n know just how much that made Robins heart speed. 

After a beat of silence, Robin decided to speak up.

“Trent is an asshole.” She said.

Y/n looked at her eyes wide and face slightly shocked.

Noting her confusion, Robin elaborated. “I saw you were looking at him and Kim making out before you ran away. Don’t let a dick like that make you upset. You deserve better.”

“Yeah.” Y/n smiled at Robin, but there was something behind that smile. Not sadness as one would expect, but almost a slight etch of fear. She looked to the ground and swallowed harshly.

“I’m sorry did i say something wrong.” Robin began, her own fear growing. “I’m sorry if i said something to make you upset but i can tell you are and that’s totally my fault i mean it’s just what i assumed from the sight-”

“No no no, you’re alright. It’s not that you’re wrong either. I- i am upset because of Trent but, not in the way you think.” Y/n suddenly stopped walking, a wave of nerves hitting her, making her chew on her lower lip.

“Whats up?” Robin said, also stopping and standing in front of y/n.

“You’re cool right? I mean you see so. Y-you aren’t like other people here. Total assholes.” Y/n stuttered.

Robin nodded carefully. “Id like to think so.” She chuckled, scratching the back of her neck.

“I wasn’t upset because Trent was dancing with another girl. I was upset cause the girl that broke my heart was dancing with him.” Y/n confided.

Robins eyes went wide. “What?”

“We hooked up and i caught feelings then she told me she was ‘just experimenting’. It’s not that i still want to be with her, it’s just the shots made me kinda sulky.” She shrugged, looking away from Robins face.

Robin stood quiet, eyes wide and mouth agape, her hands out of her pockets and hanging by her sides.

Steve was right. She couldn’t believe it. She knew that at the moment she should be providing comfort for the fact the girl before her was played, but she was just to happy.

“Robin?” Y/n said, worry growing in the pit of her stomach.

“Me too.” Robin blurted, y/n furrowing her eyebrows confused. “I a-also like girls. Not experimentally or anything but like really. Like i- i mean… woman, am i right? But that’s great you do too i didn’t know there were more people like me around here. I mean, woo!”

Robins rambling made y/n chuckle slightly, then making Robin also giggle.

“God, i’m so sorry i talk a- a lot. I should really stop.”

“You’re cute Buckley.” Y/n laughed, beginning to resume walking, leaving Robin standing, a blush on her face and an all consuming smile.

Turning and returning to y/n’s side, the two walked. They walked in silence.

Robin wasn’t one to like long periods of silence. Whether it was around friends, her parents, or even when she was alone. But this silence, it was like none other she’d experienced.

It was comforting. No tension in the air and the gentle bouncing of the them bumping into each other as they walked was enough to keep Robins mind grounded, an inevitable smile remaining present on her face.

After a few seconds, y/n brought her hand up to the back of Robins arm, cautious and gentle. Almost as though she were testing the waters.

When Robin separated her arm, putting her elbow out towards y/n. Taking her approval, y/n interlocked her arm with Robins and leaned her head slightly on her shoulder.

Robin felt her heart beat increase. Combating the urge to grin like a maniac.

“This is me, Buck.” Y/n said, halting and making Robin stop in the process.

“Dear god never call me that again.” Robin laughed. She stepped forward in front of y/n.

Once their laughter died down, the two just stood there, under the light above them, Robin with her hands in her pockets and y/n fiddling with hers in front of her.

“So, i wanna ask you something. You totally don’t have to say yes and just know i’m not asking this just cause you’re the only other girl around here i know that also likes other girls. Like i totally like you for you and i have for a while now so, again, don’t feel obligated but do-”

“Yes.”

“Yes to?”

“Yes to going on a date with you.” y/n assured.

“Ok. Great! Awesome. Truly wonderful.” Robin said, slightly louder than she would’ve liked.

“Tomorrow, my place at 6. Bring movies.” Y/n said, Robin nodding.

“Sounds great.”

“I’ll see you then, Buck.” y/n said and turned around to walk up to her house, but, not before leaning forward and kissing Robins cheek.

Robin stood on the street, staring at y/n go into her house and holding back every urge to jump up and down.

Holy shit i have to go tell Steve.

#ˋ°•*⁀➷ ꜱᴏꜰɪ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇꜱ #st4 #stranger things #lgbtq #robin buckley #wlw #eddie munson x reader #pride #stranger things season 4 #stranger things smut #stranger things fluff #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley fluff #robin buckley headcanons #steve harrington x reader #steve and robin #st4 vol1 #st4 vol 2 #sapphic

[hellishlibrary]

Twst with Yuu who awkward and stares at them

Warnings; can be seen as either platonic or romantic?

Requests are open!! Don’t worry about much, I do nsfw and sfw content and will have no problem as long as you check my pinned post about fandoms I will do!

Authors note; just needed some non-romantic fics about Twst for once, Duece has more writing bc my brain love this cutie patootie and he is my son

Dorms; HEARTSLABYUL, SAVANACLAW, OCTAVINELLE, SCARABIA, POMEFIORE, IGNIHYDE

HEARTSLABYUL

• The first time you ever stare at Riddle he looks back at you a few seconds later with a confused expression as you keep staring at him. He would then get slightly more confused and then annoyed and asks you what you are doing, to which you just wander off without saying a word.

• This will confuse Riddle even more as he touches his face to see if anything was on him or in his teeth, he realizes an hour later that you were just staring at him for no reason, this makes him feel.. Happy? Or maybe.. prideful that the chance that you might look up to him..? Yes. This must be the answer! Riddle will ask you tomorrow :D

***

• Trey has noticed that you stare at him from both afar and when you both walk with each other. Of course he doesn’t mind it, in fact, you remind him when Riddle was younger and shy when they first met! What an adorable person you are!

• One time Trey asked you a question and you were so zoned out on him that he waved his hand in-front of you face and you looked super embarrassed and answered his question with a crooked smile as he chuckled at your reaction. Maybe he should call you out on it more often?

***

• Cater Takes pictures with you all of the time! You and him are basically best friends, at least he think so. But he notices that you are always looking at him in the pictures as he reviews the pictures before posting them. What a cutie you are! Looking so cute and squishy in the picture! (Platonic love)

• He would send you a picture that he likes of the two of you and leave a smart as comment saying ‘You look like you looove cay-cay’ and giggle at your response and tease you the next day you see each other!

***

• Ace definitely makes fun of you as he notices it almost immediately when you guys are officially friends. You stare at Ace as if you had a problem with him, so he jokingly asks you if you want to fight him and you just fumble with your words as he has a shit eating grin.

• But one time when you were caught staring at him he teased you a lot until you were almost crying, he had a heart attack as you are one of his best friends! (Mostly because he accidentally almost made you cry infront of RIDDLE), so he never teased you too much after that. (Key word; TOO MUCH)

***

• Deuce didn’t really notice (because he’s a little dumb <33) but when he did it was when he first played with Leona in a practice game for the spell drive after Leona’s overblot. He only notices afterwards because Jack pointed it out to him, and now he can’t help but get confused and nervous when you do it. It’s not your fault! Well, maybe it is..? But he enjoys spending time with you, it’s just it creeps him out a bit, sometimes he can’t help but call you out on it.

• Like one time he was walking with you back to ramshackle dorm and he couldn’t help but notice the way you glanced at him and stared every time, Deuce then gives up and asks you about it. Deuce then apologizes as he sees you try to find your words and you kinda look like a kicked puppy and he starts to panic and say it’s alright and he’ll never bring it up again..! (Spoiler alert; he does it on accident all the time)

Hello! Thank you for reading, love you guys and good morning/afternoon/night

#twst deuce #heartslabyul #ace trappola #twst headcanons #riddle rosehearts #cater diamond #trey clover #disney twst #twst #twst wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst x yuu #platonic #twst fanfic #platonic love #platonic relationships #x reader #gender neutral reader #platonic x reader #fluff #twst fluff