#one night stand to lovers

[wannab-urs]

Burn Slowly/I Love You | Chapter 1

Warnings/Content/Summary: As always I live in a fantasy world where no one gets pregnant or gets STDs and no one uses a condom. This is fiction. Wear a fucking condom. Sex while intoxicated but like it’s two maybe three beers y’all they aren’t drunk. Alternating POV kind of? Reader has burn scars on her left arm, wrapping over her shoulder and a bit onto her chest. No other physical descriptors. Remember that Frankie is strong as hell so it doesn’t matter if you’re petite or amazonian, this man can toss you around all he wants to. Fuck first feelings later type beat. Eventual descriptions of PTSD, trauma, minor character death, panic attacks, flashbacks, etc.

Word Count - 2.2k

Your Chest is Heavy

You’re sitting at the worn oak counter of a dive bar just a few blocks from your apartment with a cheap beer and a copy of The Secret History. Reading at the bar is a good way to scare off most men who would normally approach you. The rest usually fuck off when you don’t even look up from the book, muttering “not interested” in their direction. It’s really hard to focus on this book, though. The plot is a little meandering, for one, but there’s also a lot of people here tonight making it loud. 

A sudden burst of laughter draws your attention. A group of guys stand around a hightop table on the far side of the room. At first glance, none are particularly appealing to you. Rowdy, obscenely muscular, clean shaven, close cropped hair. Not your type at all. You’re just about to go back to your book when one of the guys catches your eye. He doesn’t look quite like the others. Unruly dark curls stick out of a ballcap, a scruffy beard clings to his cheeks. He’s got broad shoulders and big arms like the others, but his face is softer around the edges. His eyes are still caught in the crinkles of his laughter when he meets your stare. Shit you’re staring. 

You quickly look back down at your book, curling in on yourself, hoping he doesn’t come over. You’ve basically used universal bar sign language for come talk to me and that is not what you want. Even if he’s really cute. 

“Dude, she was practically eating you with her eyes. Go over there!” Benny playfully nudges Frankie on the shoulder. 

“You haven’t had any action in ages, Catfish. Go,” Pope teases. 

Frankie scrubs a hand over his neck. “I don’t know. She was probably looking at you, Benny.” 

“She was definitely looking at you, Fish,” Will seems genuine, tone softer and less like he’s setting Frankie up to fail. 

Frankie sighs, lifting his cap and running a hand through his curls before stuffing it back on his head. “Fine. I’ll go talk to her.” The boys cheer like his love life is a fucking football game and he just scored a touchdown. 

Frankie slips into a bar stool beside you. “Uh… hi,” he says sheepishly. He feels like an idiot for doing this. 

“Not interested,” you mutter, barely even looking up from your book. Frankie’s face grows hot with shame. The boys will never let this go. Not a shot in hell. He sits there for a second, caught between facing your wrath if he doesn’t leave and facing the humiliation if he does. But just as he makes the decision to go, you look up at him. “Wait! I’m sorry. Habit.” 

Frankie cocks an eyebrow, but settles back into his seat. “I’m Frankie. Can I buy you a beer?”

“Yeah, Frankie. I’d like that.”

It wouldn’t have been right to send the man away without at least talking to him. That’s how you justify it to yourself. It certainly didn’t hurt that he was absolutely gorgeous up close. In that first quick glance you’d caught the curve of his aquiline nose, the pout of his plump lips, and the blush creeping over his golden cheeks. That was enough to warrant at least a conversation. 

And fuck it was a good conversation. He asked about your book, which led to a rant about all the reasons you didn’t like it and all the reasons you were still reading it anyway, his eyes wrinkling at the corners as he grinned at you. “What?” 

“It’s cute when you ramble,” he’d said, scratching the back of his neck. 

You talked about your job at the library and he told you he’s an ambulance driver. He jerked a thumb toward the guys still nursing their beers behind him, “Firefighters. Buncha pendejos,” he’d said a little too loudly, winking at you. 

You had fully intended on letting him down gently. You didn’t come here to find someone to go home with, you came here to have a beer. And yet you had asked him if he wanted to head out of the bar. And now you’re sitting in  his truck, rolling down the highway.

“Can you turn the AC on?” You’re sweating through your long sleeve black shirt from the heat and your own nervousness. 

“Uh… It’s broken. I’m sorry,” Frankie kind of winces, like it physically hurts him to admit. “Not far from the house though.” 

“It’s fine! Just a little warm,” you play with the sleeve of your shirt and take a deep breath. It’s fine. It’s just a little heat. You’ll be okay. Breathe. “Actually, can I roll the window down?” 

Frankie chuckles and hits the button to roll all the windows in the truck down. Your heart rate evens out as the night air hits your face. 

The truck rolls to a stop in front of a small white house. You pick at your fingers, seriously questioning if you made the right choice. He seems so sweet. You feel… safe with him. But-

“Cariño? We’re here,” Frankie speaks low, like he’s worried you’ll spook and take off. He slowly reaches over the console and takes your hand, stopping your fidgeting. He rubs a soothing thumb over the back of your hand. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah!” you say too quickly, too loudly in the stillness of the truck cab. “It’s just, uh… It’s been a while. I’m nervous.” Frankie pulls your hand up to his lips and kisses it before laying it gently back down on the console. 

“It’s been a while for me too. I’ll take care of you, though. Promise.” He winks at you and it’s so dorky and cute that it calms you down a little. 

Frankie barely gets you through the door before he gently presses you into the wall and his soft, plush lips find yours. You melt into the kiss, bringing your hands up to cradle his face. You knock his trucker hat to the floor and bury your hands in his hair, deepening the kiss with a swipe of your tongue. He tastes like cheap beer and his beard scrapes against the soft skin of your face. He smells like citrus and sandalwood. Your senses are gently overpowered by him, a soft wash of Frankie covering you and settling what remains of your nerves. 

Every fear you had comes rushing back as he slips his fingertips under the hem of your shirt. You freeze before grabbing his wrist and placing a palm on his chest, pushing him away gently. “Shirt stays on and hands stay outside of it, okay? I’m sorry…” Your body tenses in anticipation of the rejection you know is coming. He’ll kick you out. Or disregard your wishes. 

Frankie’s hands find your cheeks, drawing your face up to look at him. “Hey, it’s okay. Thank you for telling me.” He kisses you gently, reassuringly. It hits you again that you trust this stranger you just met in a bar. You deepen the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. He hitches his hands under your thighs and pulls them up around his waist, settling you against his very prominent arousal. You roll yourself against him and he groans into your mouth. His hands wrap tightly around your body and he carries you down the hallway. 

He lays you gently on the bed and immediately goes for the button of your jeans, making sure to stay clear of your shirt. He tosses your jeans and underwear on the floor and drops to his knees beside the bed. 

“Oh, Frankie, you don’t have to-” your sentence is cut off by the low moan erupting from your throat as Frankie pulls your legs over his broad shoulders and buries his face in your cunt. His hooked nose grinds against your clit as he licks into you. Your hands find purchase in his curls and you roll your hips into him, grinding on his face. Frankie eats it up… literally. He groans into your pussy and you feel it reverberate through your entire body. Your head is thrown back in absolute ecstasy as he sucks your bud into his mouth, lapping at it rhythmically. You clench around nothing, pleasure curling up in your core. “Please, fuck, don’t stop. So close,” you cry out. Your voice is desperate, wrecked, and your hips are thrusting involuntarily against his face. 

You come with a near pained shout, hands tightening in Frankie’s hair and pulling him into you even harder as you grind on his nose. Frankie licks a trail from your entrance up to your mound, then presses kisses all the way up your clothed stomach and chest. He nips at your jaw as he unbuttons his pants and clumsily shoves them off with one hand, like he can’t bear to take his mouth away from you. 

“Taste so fucking sweet, hermosa,” he rumbles in your ear. “Could eat you out all night, if you’d let me.” 

You think you would let him, if you couldn’t feel his hardness pressed against your thigh. “Another time, Frankie.” You push your thigh against him. “Fuck me, please.” 

Frankie doesn’t need to be told twice. He stands up and pulls you further to the edge of the bed. He looks down at you, unconsciously licking his lips. “Fucking gorgeous…” he says under his breath. You could say the same about him. Half his curls are stuck to his forehead with sweat and half are standing wild from your fingers raking through them. His big brown eyes are wide, almost in awe. His upper half is wrapped in a tight white t-shirt that accentuates his broad shoulders and strong chest. 

He grips his thick, uncut cock in his fist and lines it up with your entrance before grabbing your hips. He pulls your hips into him, splitting you wide open without moving his hips an inch. You don’t know if you’ve ever felt so full in your fucking life. Your hands fly to his muscular forearms, hanging on for dear life as he sheathes himself inside your tight heat. “Holy fuck, Frankie.” 

“I know, baby, I know,” Frankie whispers as he bends to cover your body with his. He drags his cock out a couple of inches and rolls his hips in a fluid motion, sinking back into you and grinding against your clit on every stroke. Moans spill from your lips unchecked. You don’t care if you sound sexy or if the words you’re babbling make any sense because he feels so fucking good. 

Frankie sits up and wedges his knees under your thighs, kneeling on the edge of the bed. He grips your hips in his strong hands and easily pulls you into him, hitting your g-spot with every thrust. Your arms fly above your head, grasping onto the sheets. Your shirt rides up a little with the motion and you almost panic, but Frankie tangles his fingers into the fabric and holds the hem tight against your torso. Safe. You trust him.

Frankie grips you so hard you know you’ll bruise and slams his hips into yours, driving you closer and closer to coming. “You feel… so good, cariño. So. Fucking. Tight,” Frankie bites out between thrusts. You babble incoherently, the head of his cock is slamming into your cervix and it’s making you feel a little fuzzy around the edges. Nothing matters except Frankie’s cock buried inside you and the coil of pleasure building in your gut. He’s fucking you like a rag doll, now. Your body has gone boneless with the intensity of him inside you.

Your orgasm rips through you like a flame, burning you up from the inside out. You scream his name as your eyes roll into the back of your head and your body goes taut with pleasure. Frankie steadily, brutally, fucks you through it. When your cunt finally stops convulsing around him, he drops your hips and leans over your limp, fucked out body. 

Frankie kisses you with a tenderness that seems at odds with the way he just fucked you, stuttering his hips into you one, two, three more times before pulling out and nestling his cock into the crease between your thigh and your torso. His cum splatters across your shirt in long spurts, coating you in his release. 

His forehead drops to yours and your heaving breaths mingle in the space between you. You meet his gaze and there’s something in his eyes… something like adoration. Affection. He shakes his head slightly and stands up. 

“I’ll get you a shirt to wear,” his voice comes out hoarse, rough with the after effects of his orgasm. He disappears into his closet and comes back with a big, long-sleeve t-shirt. You sit up slowly and take the shirt from him. 

“Thank you, Frankie,” you whisper. 

Frankie wakes up in his bed alone. His brow furrows in disappointment. He usually likes to make his hookups breakfast and drive them back to their car. He knows it’s a little weird, but it’s important to him that he takes care of you. He flops onto his side and catches a glimpse of a piece of  paper on his nightstand. It’s your number, your name signed with a heart and a note promising to return the shirt. 

Frankie smiles, feeling something dangerously close to hope for the first time in a long time.

A/N: This fic has been in the works for a while now. The initial idea was pitched in a chat with @beskarandblasters and she supported me every step of the way <3. Thanks to the Whorehomies for hyping me and this idea up! I appreciate y'all more than you'll ever know. And thanks to @str84pedro for the beta/grammar edit I love you!

Let me know if you want to be tagged <3

Tag List: @beskarandblasters, @cutesyscreenname, @atinylittlepain, @harriedandharassed, @jksprincess10, @fishingforpike, @dreamingofdaddydin, @sad-bitch-disorder

#Frankie Morales #Frankie Morales fics #Frankie Morales fan fiction #Frankie Morales x reader #Frankie Morales x you #Triple Frontier #former firefighter!frankie #ambulance driver!frankie #bsily #burn slowly i love you #one night stand to lovers #slow burn #which is ironic because they fuck immediately but the romance is a slow burn #point out my fire references it makes me giggle #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[mingigoo]

happy new year🍸✨ || park seonghwa (m)

🍸 pairing ⇢ art major! (fem) reader x med-school student! Seonghwa x San (kind of)

🍸 summary ⇢ after a hell of a night of drinking god knows what, you wake up in the arms of your sworn enemy. Clothes? Gone. Sanity? Also gone. That is, until he wakes up before you get the chance to leave.

🍸 genre/ au⇢ enemies to lovers, one night stand au, smut, slight angst, some fluff

🍸 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ minors dni, one night stand, heavy drinking, party, sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), rough sex, cream pie, seonghwa is super smart, seonghwa wears glasses, licking, biting, bruising, slight dirty talk, name calling, I am not a science professional please forgive me if things are not correct, language, a touch of after care, y/n is a freak but we love her, once again if I forgot something feel free to let me know so I can add it.

🍸 word count ⇢ 9.2k

🍸 taglist ⇢ @atinywhore @meowmeowminnie @jjhmk @yesv01 @roe-sinning @yeritheloml @yukine-smx @y00nzin0 @8tinytings @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @hwaightme

New year's. A new beginning. A flush of new opportunities to change habits and fall in love. 

Some people will do anything to find the love of their life. You, well, the new year wasn't for praying for love or longing for that New Year's Eve kiss. You had no expectations for falling into the scheme of chemicals disguised as love.

So, on the very night, as others held hands, kissed, and enjoyed another year together, you partied the night away like it had no meaning.

This new year, however, your typical party-hard behavior ended with you in someone else's bed, glitter in your eyes, and your legs tangled with your enemy.

What the fuck happened?

—

11:25 am

New Year’s Day.

Your head was spinning. 

Flashbacks of the night before flooded your vision even before you opened your eyes. Your toes were peeking out of the fluffy duvet that one hundred percent didn't belong to you, your hands grasping onto someone else's.

You were afraid to open your eyes, to be honest.

Flashes of glitter, champagne, kisses, touches, dancing. It was all too much, and the minute you felt someone’s warm breath run down your neck, you became aware of the strong arm that held you to his body.

And that's when it hit you. 

Last night, after way too much alcohol and mixtures of shots and god knows what else, you shared your midnight kiss with someone you dreaded.

Well, at least used to dread.

You opened your eyes quickly, staying as still as ever to not wake him. You didn't trust your drunk mind—you wanted to make sure it was….him.

You looked down at the hand that was wrapped around you. His fingers cupped your breast, holding you to him like you were made for him. Your heart began to beat faster as you noticed how he was holding you, and you slowly moved your head to face your enemy.

Park Fucking Seonghwa.

There he was, in all his glory. His black hair still looked flawless,his lips parted as he breathed. They were swollen, painted red from your lipstick. You held your breath and swallowed hard, unable to look away from him from the shock.

Or maybe, just maybe, you thought he was absolutely gorgeous and couldn't believe he just fucked you after staying he hated you the day before.

You blinked, and finally tore your gaze from him.

It wasn't unusual for you to wake up in a foreign bed tangled in a mess of limbs. It was a part of your party lifestyle, and never wanting to settle. The man that you slept with, though, was someone you never imagined would have a one night stand.

He was too good to be true, which is why you couldn't believe it. He was fine-cut, clean, and someone who was a lover of all things traditional. He wears suits freshly pressed from the dry cleaners, round rimmed glasses, and a permanent smirk as if he was better than everyone else.

To be honest, he was. Which is why you hated him.

He was too perfect. And now, here you were, with said perfect man, your naked bodies pressed against each other. 

You let out a groan, unsure about how to get out of this situation. Ever so slowly, you wrapped your fingers around the hand that gripped your breast, prying his godly fingers off your skin. You breathed slowly as you set his hand down, and then you slipped out of the covers.

Your bare feet landed on the cold hardwood, and you let out a sigh of relief. You looked over at him before finding your dress that you vividly remember him ripping off of you, and of course, it was torn right down the middle. 

“Fuck.” you whispered, although it wasn't quiet enough.

He gasped awake, pushing himself back against the headboard. His eyes were frantic, searching all over the room until his eyes met yours. And then they trailed down, and down, and down, as he soaked up your nakedness. “Holy fuck,” he breathed, not even pulling up the covers to hide his bare chest. “y/n? Where are your clothes?”

You stood like a deer in headlights, scared enough to not even bother to hide yourself. He saw it all, anyway.

“I, uh,” you sniffed, holding up the destroyed dress in your hands. “You tore it off my body…”

He squinted his eyes, unable to see without those glasses of his. He reached over onto the nightstand, and quickly tossed on those sexy ass round-rimmed glasses. And that's when another flashback hit you.

 “What the hell happened last night?”

—

New Years Eve,

9:05 pm.

“Make sure you bring some painkillers, y/n,” your best friend San said as you stuffed the necessities into your purse. “I know how you get.”

You chuckled and tossed a whole bottle into your purse. “I got you, Sannie.”

You and san were besties. Not just you two, but you had a whole friend group. Wooyoung, hongjoong, San, A mixture of personalities, but you liked to consider your group a bunch of party-hards. All except one of them. 

Seonghwa, who was hongjoong’s roommate, joined the friend group last new years. He was the stick up the ass friend that wouldn't like to come to parties, and his priorities lied with passing his boards. A smarty pants, of course, and you couldn't blame him for his efforts to do well. You just didn't care the same way he did.

Which is why he didn't like you.

He also studied the brain while you studied art, which he thought was tedious. He knew everything about your brain while you couldn't even pick apart his expressions, which pissed you off all the time.

“Oh, one more thing,” San poked his head into your room, a sinister smile on his face. A face you've kissed one too many times. “Seonghwa is coming.”

You went still as he stood in your doorway, your lips only half covered with bright red lipstick. “What?”

San shrugged. “Don't know why. Said he was sick of studying for once. I couldn't believe it either,” he looked you up and down then, and gave you a wink. “Anyway. You look hot. I wanna kiss away that lipstick, baby.”

You smirked, loving that you and San could do anything to each other and it meant nothing. He was the male version of you, that's for sure.

“Come here then.” you chuckled, and not surprisingly, he entered the room like he owned it, pulling you to him sexily. Everyone thought you were dating, but the truth was that you just like to kiss each other. And fuck, but theres absolutely no strings attached.

Reason number a million for why seonghwa hated you.

His lips met yours sloppily, tugging you closer as his lips parted yours. He pulled back, licking the lipstick off his lips. 

“So, who’s gonna be the lucky man tonight?” he huskily groaned, leaning back onto your vanity.

You carried on like nothing happened, and fixed up your lipstick. “Not sure. Whoever is down for some fun I guess.”

He nodded. “Of course, of course. Anyway, as much as I like to chit-chat and makeout with you, it's time to head out. I want to get there before the good alc is gone.”

You smirked, finishing your lipstick only for it to be ruined later on. 

“Alright, lets go get fucked up.”

—

10:20 pm

You entered the party an hour later, already buzzed on your pre-game chug. San gripped onto you as you entered the house, having no idea who’s it was.

“The party is here, motherfuckers.” San hollered, and everyone who was in the room turned to see you.

You were sober enough to look around, looking for the man you couldn't believe was showing up. You didn't see him anywhere, and you felt a bit let down at the thought of him not showing up.

San’s fingertips were pressed into your side as your friends came up to see you. “Ah, there you guys are. We figured you were fucking as per usual.” Wooyoung cockily spoke, a smile on those pretty drunk lips of his.

Hongjoong snorted, holding a can of beer tightly in his hands. “You're so right.”

You shook your head this time, looking at San, who was staring at you hungrily. “Nah, just a quick makeout sesh. Didn't want to zip this dress back up.”

“Nah, I could've just lifted it up.” San smirked.

You were too busy staring at San to notice the man of the hour coming up behind your friends.

Seonghwa looked pained, his pretty eyes hidden behind his glasses. He held a beer in his hand, looking out of place from his stuffy persona. His long legs were covered with tight black dress pants, and his chest was covered in a matching suit coat and a turtleneck.

You couldn't lie, it pissed you off that he was hot.

“Hwa, there you are,” San giggled, already drunk off an unknown amount of vodka shots. “You're looking fine as hell tonight.”

You moved your gaze to the tall man, his expensive aura rubbing off on you. His eyes were sending daggers at San’s grip on your waist, and then he brought his gaze up to yours. “Thanks.” is all he said, his smooth voice enveloping your senses.

You looked him up and down with an arch of the brow. “Seonghwa.”

He did the same to you, although his piercing eyes were judging your every move. “Y/n.”

You scoffed at the disdain of his tone, knowing that this party was going to be the death of you if you stayed this sober. You looked up to San, who was already looking at you. “San, could you get me a drink?”

He went off like he was your servant, leaving you alone with your friends. That is, until hongjoong gave wooyoung a knowing look. “We're going to get drinks too. Bye-bye.” hongjoong chuckled, knowing he was leaving you with the enemy.

You rolled your eyes, unable to meet your gaze to Seonghwa’s fierce one. It was quiet between you two, desperately needing him to either leave or speak. 

To your surprise, he did the latter.

“I see you're enjoying winter break, clearly,” he hummed, bringing the beer can up to his lips. You couldn't help but watch as they got wet, and how he licked them clean while looking at you. “Maybe too much.”

Stupid stupid stupid. He shouldn't be hot. It's not fair.

You crossed your arms over your chest. “What do you mean by that?” you inquired, to which he scoffed before responding.

He shrugged. “Well, you're having fun with San and going to parties left and right. Do you ever rest?” he took a step closer to you, but you didn't back down. Even though his voice was so smooth, buttering you up even when he insulted you, you loved to play his game right back.

“Why are you here? Shouldn't you be dissecting a brain or something?” you growled, looking around for San—who wasn't back with your drink yet. “Listen, we all can't be neurosurgeons, baby. Leave the partying and sex and drugs to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, and took another step towards you. “So you are fucking him.”

You furrowed your brows at his harsh and unusual word choices. 

Two can play it this way, seonghwa.

“Who? I can name a few people in this room alone,” you reached out, using your flirtatious ways to make him uncomfortable as you always do. You ran a hand down his arm, his gaze hardening on you. “Are you interested? You know I like it rough. I’m sure San tells you all about it—”

“Slut.” he hissed, his eyes black as night as your hand wrapped around his forearm. It's not a word you should take lightly, but hearing him call you that actually did the opposite you expected. You felt warm, your stomach tingling lower and lower and lower.

Your eyes lit up as they met his. “Oh? We’re name calling now, huh?” you pulled him to you, and he stumbled into you. You reached up and pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “Sucks for you, four eyes, I like being degraded.”

He didn't make a face. He just stared down at you, his lips flat without emotion. His eyes, however, danced with lust from the look you were giving him. After a moment of tearing each other apart, you pushed him away, leaving him standing alone as you went to go find San. Before you left his sight, you turned around and gave him a flirty wave, catching him scoffing one last time before leaving the room.

—

11:30 pm

It was a blur. You were already on your seventh, maybe tenth drink, feeling your body warm from the toxin you call alcohol. You had a habit of dancing when you were drunk, and that left you in the middle of the room, grinding on San and some other random dudes.

In your hand was a red cup of something that tastes like peach whiskey, and it nearly spilled as San’s hands were all over you. The edge of his fingertips danced at the curve of your hip, your arms reaching the sky as his lips were on your neck. Little did you know that more than one set of eyes were on you.

Seonghwa sat on the leather couch, his legs spread wide and his arms crossed. He was drunk off a whole bottle of orange vodka, which scared him a bit. He was unsure of what he would do—or say—to you. You had no idea why he hated you, but oh, some choice words might spill out of his mouth tonight as he watched San touch you like that.

He narrowed his eyes when San’s lips met yours, staring at you with so much anger he might have exploded. He kept watching, unable to break his stare from you. His eyes trailed down to the way San’s hand slid down your hips, and watched as he kissed you and smiled with cockiness.

Seonghwa didn't like how he looked at you.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but Hwa stood up and made his way over to you. Within that little time, San was already dancing with another girl, leaving you dancing all alone in the midst of sweaty bodies and men that would take advantage of you.

The minute you spotted him in front of you, you stopped dancing and plastered a goofy smile on your face. “Hello there, smarty pants. Out of your element?” you asked him and began to dance again. He looked at you deeply, noticing the smudge of your lipstick.

“You seem to let anyone touch you.” He said, pushing his glasses up on his face.

You shrugged as you danced, but you were sick of him killing the mood. You reached out to him and pulled him close, and to your surprise, he didn't move away as you danced against him.

“Yeah, even you.” you smirked, grinding your ass against his dick. You were certain he was drunk enough to ignore it. “Touch me.”

He hesitated, but the alcohol took over as his hands moved on their own. He was too drunk to hide his true feelings, but at least you both wouldn't remember this in the morning. His hands slid down to your hips, and never have you ever craved someone’s touch this much.

You reached back to run a hand down his face, feeling the cold rim of his glasses. You felt how sharp his jawline was as his hands touched you like he never did before.

“I’m touching you because you want me to, not because I want to.” he huffed, but his fingers said otherwise as they curled around your dress. His head rested against yours, but then you turned around in his hold, your face inches away from his.

You tilted your face up as you saw the longing look he was giving you. God, you hated him.

“Are you sure about that?” your lips were inches away from his, his hands still gripping at your waist. You held onto his shirt, fisting it tight. You smelled his breath, his shampoo, his everything. Your vision was hazy, but you knew damn well he was the hottest man you've ever laid eyes on. “Your hands seem to like my waist.”

“I don't like anything about you,” he whispered in your ear, lips pressing against your skin. “Not even your sexy little ass. God, I hate your lips, too.”

You shivered under his touch, his hand now squeezing your ass as he breathed into your ear. 

“Oh? What’s wrong with my lips?” 

He let out a sigh, his breathing getting shallower by the minute. 

His dark eyes met yours.

“Because they don't belong to me.”

You stopped dead at his words, feeling like the whole world stopped. He stopped too, but his hands still found their home on your ass and waist.

Your heart began to beat out of your chest. No man has ever made you feel the way he made you feel. You couldn't stand it.

Ignoring his half-confession, you laughed it off. “Your breath smells like oranges.”

He smiled down at you, hair in his eyes. “That's because of the orange vodka. You smell like peaches.”

You licked your lips, really wanting to taste the oranges on his lips; in his mouth. Something was wrong with you.

“I really don't like you.” you said, looking at his lips.

“I hate you even more.”

“Well I hate you a million times more.”

He scoffed, his hands meeting your waist once again. “I hate your dress.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why? Is it too slutty for you? Is that all you see in me?”

He shook his head. “No,” he hummed. “I just think you're too pretty to be someone’s play-thing.”

You blinked. Was that a compliment?

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I don't do it as often as you think.” you said to him, that seductive smile on your face he knew all too well.

“Well you sleep with San.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, but we only fuck because we don't know how to love. We've only done it once.”

He frowned. “What? Really? Only once?”

You nodded, your hand running through his soft hair without knowing. This was the most you've ever spoken civilly. “Yeah. We make out and like other stuff, but I don't like him like that. He doesn't like me like that either. We just do it for fun. Anything to feel something.”

He scoffed, looking as pretty as ever. “God, you're insane.”

“Maybe.”

He smiled. Really smiled. You thought he was so gorgeous, your drunk self didn't know what to do with him.

San came up to you two, a smirk on his lips as he watched you. “Dancing with the enemy, huh?” he chuckled, a girl on one arm and wooyoung on the other. “Have fun, looks like Seonghwa isn't a buzzkill after all.”

San left then, which kind of proved your relationship to Hwa. Sure, you liked to party. You liked having sex. You liked to feel things. It was just your way of having fun. Feeling alive. Even though Seonghwa hated that you were like that, you now just figured out that he thought you deserved better than being someone’s object.

“It's almost midnight.” you whispered, leaning your head against his chest. You felt his heartbeat race under that expensive turtleneck of his.

“Mhm.” he hummed into your hair. 

“Who are you going to kiss?” you ran your hands down his back sensually. “Did you even ever kiss someone?”

He laughed, and you felt his chest vibrate. “Do you think I’m a virgin, y/n?”

You giggled, his hands feeling you up. “Maybe. Either that or you're like extremely experienced and you know everything.”

He chuckled at that, but didn't deny it.

“So which is it?” you looked up at him as people began to chant the countdown in the background. “Virgin or sexpertise?” 

Ten. 

“Do you want to find out?” he asked, his hands living on your hips. “Or do you hate me too much?”

Nine.

“I do hate you quite a bit.” you looked up at his lips.

Eight.

He tilted his head, licking his lips.

Seven.

“Well I don't want you kissing someone else.”

Six.

You looked up at him through your lashes. “So does that mean you don't hate me?”

Five. 

He tugged you closer to him, your breasts pressing against his chest. “Oh, I do hate you. I hate everything about you.”

Four.

“Oh, I know you do.” you licked your lips as he pressed his forehead against yours. “You never let me hear otherwise.”

Three. 

“Do you…want to hear otherwise?”

Two. 

His hand met your jaw, tilting it up to face him. You swallowed hard.

You nodded. 

“I never wanted someone so bad the way I want you.” he breathed.

One.

“Kiss me.” you groaned, and this time, he touched you because he wanted to.

“I won't be able to stop.” he hummed against your lips, enveloping you with the sweet taste of oranges and vodka despite the warning.

Happy new year!

He pushed open your lips, tongue in your mouth and hands in your hair. You fisted his hair with one hand, his glasses crashing against your face. He pulled back for a moment only long enough to tear them off his face, only to further the kiss. His hands gripped your face, his tongue licking the roof of your mouth.

He breathed hard as you kissed and kissed and kissed. Your hands were still in his hair, tugging him down to you as he leaned down. You've never kissed someone the way you kissed him at this moment, sharing breaths and sweet-tasting saliva.

Seonghwa scrunched his eyebrows tight as he kissed you, so powerfully, that you didn't know where to put your hands on him anymore. 

You forgot that you were in the middle of a room full of people, but one kiss wasn't enough for both of you. You loved the softness of his lips. The taste of them. The smell of his hair. You loved the way he was looking at you, the way he was touching you. You loved everything about him at this moment.

He pulled away, slowly, tenderly, as if he didn't almost break your face from that powerful kiss. It was as if the world was ending—he couldn't let go of you.

And to make matters worse, the pad of his thumb met the corner of your lips, wiping them gently.

“Happy new year, y/n.”

You stared at him, trying to decipher your true feelings. Did you only hate him because he never showed you the time of day? Was it because he was perfect, like a literal god?

—

12:45 am.

The New Year

Somehow, someway, you and seonghwa got separated in all the craziness of the midnight frenzy. You were now in the kitchen, guzzling down your second shot of champagne. You were way too drunk to search for seonghwa, but the minute you saw a flash of black and silver rimmed glasses, you pushed yourself off the counter and followed him.

The cold January breeze hit you, but your body was too warmed up from your intoxication. You stepped down the stairs of the deck, pushing through the swarm of people to see a group lighting off sparklers. Maybe it wasn't the smartest idea, as everyone here had to be at least tipsy, but you saw him then, smiling, and holding onto a sparkler.

The brightness of the sparks reflected in his eyes, leaving specks of gold and white dance around his lenses. He didn't see you yet, so you stepped closer and closer. He had to see you now, but he didn't look over.

“You know that our reactions to the world around us originate from our brains?” he smiled, waving the sparkler around to make the fire move. “Our movements. Like me moving this right now. Because my brain told my muscles to do it, I moved. Isn't it amazing?”

You stared at him as he turned to you.

“Same way with you,” he sniffed, possibly because of the cold. He looked down at the sparkler in his hands. “My brain reacts to you. More than absolutely anything.”

You reached out and held the sparkler with him, knowing there was no way you were going to remember this in the morning. “So, what makes my body react to you, then?”

He let out a sigh, putting his thinking face on even while he was obliterated. “That depends on what way you react. There are many different chemicals.”

You tilted your head. “Chemicals?”

He nodded, looking down at how your hands were touching each other. His free hand gripped your chin, tilting it up to meet his lustful gaze.

“If you're thinking about kissing me,” he paused, the reflection of the star of the sparkler in his lenses. “Or touching me. Or fucking me, your levels of dopamine and norepinephrine are high.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as his fingertips brushed against your lips. 

“High?” 

“Mhm. Your brain is currently sending signals through your neurotransmitters. If you're attracted to me right now,” the sparks of the sparkler died out right then. “Your body will react because of the chemical reactions.”

“So,” you breathed, looking up at him innocently. “How is your body reacting to me? What’s your brain telling you?”

Seonghwa paused, taking a quick look at your lips before biting them slightly. He tossed the dead sparkler away. “Well my brain isn't fully functional right now, so I’m not sure how reliable my words are.”

You scoffed, slapping him on the arm. “I thought we were having a moment.”

“We are.”

You laughed. “Seonghwa, I feel like you have no common sense.”

He blinked. “Well, not right now. Like I said when you drink your brain doesn't work as well—”

You groaned, interrupting him with a hand to his mouth. This made his eyes go wide, and you felt his hot breath hit your palm.

“I literally hate you so much,” you kept your hand to his mouth to keep him from speaking. “I’d rather have you call me a slut like earlier. Although you look cute talking all nerdy.”

He blinked at you, confused at what you really felt about him. He was so far gone that he was starting to spill brain facts—a usual scenario that happens when he gets drunk. It's not what he wants to get across now, even though he was confused about his own thoughts.

He reached up to grab your hand, and wiped his face after. Now his lips were free—you kept thinking back to your kiss you shared earlier.

“I won't be able to stop.” you said.

He tilted his head in confusion. “What?”

You sighed, grabbing his cheeks in your hands, making him let out a little noise of surprise. You could tell he barely had any idea where he was. His eyes were dilated, dark, and somehow so lovely you couldn't imagine looking into anyone else's.

“You said you wouldn't be able to stop. When you were kissing me.” you hummed, feeling the warmth of his body that was inches away from yours. “But you did.”

He stared at you deeply, and you were able to see your reflection in his round eyes. “Yes.”

You rubbed your thumb against his cheekbone. “And you said before that if you wanted to kiss someone, that was because of a chemical reaction?”

He nodded slowly, looking at your lips in a haze. “Also yes.”

“Are you….having any reaction…to me?” you slid your hand back, running it up his neck, watching him shut his eyes tight in response. “To my touch? Do you want to kiss my lips again? Or fuck me?”

“God, y/n.” he hissed quietly, his eyes opening slowly to meet your intense gaze. His hands were back on your hips, seeming like a happy place for him. “I’m supposed to hate you.”

You smirked, leaning in to kiss the sharpness of his jaw, hearing him breathe in sharply. “We can go back to being hateful in the morning. I want you inside me more than I want to be hated, tonight,” you kissed the lobe of his ear, nibbling on it slightly as his hands tightened at your waist. “So your answer? Is there a chemical reaction going off in your body right now?”

He laughed deeply, sending chills down your spine. His arms wrapped around your body, his palm at the small of your back, pulling you into him. “If there wasn't, then I would have something wrong with me.”

You sensually giggled, gripping the back of his neck so he would look you in the eyes. “Then I’m all yours for the night.”

“I can…I can do anything to you?” he murmured into your ear, both of you unaware of the people around you. 

His forehead pressed against yours.

“Anything.” 

—

1:20 am.

The New Year

He slammed you against the door of god knows who’s bedroom, his lips on yours the minute he caught his breath. His hand searched for the door knob, and after aggressively running his hand up and down the door, he found it, and you both tumbled into the bedroom.

He moaned as you bit his lip with full force, feeling euphoric from the sounds he made. He pushed you back into the door, slamming it shut with your body. Lifting you up quickly, he held you to the door, feeling his hard-on through his pants.

“You said you liked it rough,” he whispered onto your lips like it was a confession, kissing them in between words. “I’ll make it so rough you won't think about San ever again.”

You cried out as he stuck his tongue into your mouth, now knowing that this booksmart boy was most certainly not a virgin. “I knew it.” you breathed, smirking while his teeth bit into your neck. You grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling it so hard that he set you down. You watched his face contort in pain and pleasure as you backed him up to the edge of the bed.

“What?” he groaned, looking up at you from his seated position. His eyes pleaded for your touch, and you did, gripping onto his shoulder as you stepped between his legs.

“I knew you weren't a virgin, you asshole.” you gave him a sinister smile, and with the deadliest look, you ripped the hair tie off your wrist to tie your hair up.

You watched him swallow hard, his black hair covering his eyes and sticking to him from his sweat. His legs were spread wide, his dick begging to tear through his expensive pants. He breathed heavily as he watched you kneel, causing him to moan without you having to touch him.

“I…” he huffed as your hands met the waistband of his pants. “Ugh.” he couldn't finish what he had to say when you unbuttoned them, pulling down the zipper to reveal black underwear. You tugged at his pants, pulling them down along with the underwear. There he was, ready for you. You were going to make him feel so good that he would never forget this, despite your shared “hatred.”

He tossed his head back the minute he felt your breath against his tip, veins popping through the skin of his forehead as he bit his lip. You licked his cock, dragging your tongue down from the tip to the base. You looked up at him while you did it, meeting his breathless expression.

“I…I…Fuck.” he cried out, his hand fisting your ponytail with force. 

You moaned as you sucked his dick, your throat contracting from his size. You gagged slightly as he shoved you deeper, your hands behind your back like the master you were. You used your tongue as you moved up and down, going faster as you heard him moan louder and louder.

“I’m gonna fucking come if you don't stop,” he hissed after god knows how long you spent sucking him off, and he pulled you up off your knees. 

You nearly blushed at his lost expression, his lips bright red from your lipstick and his cheeks flushed. His eyes were slanted with lust, dazed and lost within your touch. He was leaning back on his arms, which were still covered by the turtleneck you couldn't wait to take off of him.

You licked your lips as you looked down on him, and your fingertips met the hem of his shirt. You tugged it slowly, watching his eyes widen slightly as you pulled it over his head. The smooth ripple of muscle danced down his stomach like he was some sort of art piece.

You then stood back to admire for a moment, which was too long for seonghwa to wait. He stood up from the bed, his arms coming around to hold the back of your head. He was completely naked now, all that was left was the slutty glasses that dawned his face. You didn't want to take them off just yet.

He looked at you for a second before pressing his red lips to yours, his hand gripping the back of your head to hold you to him. His other hand twirled around the end of your little dress, unable to take a second to pull the zipper down. You moaned into his mouth as his tongue collided into yours, your hands finding their home in his hair. The coldness of his glasses burned into your skin, sending more shivers down your spine as he kissed you like no one ever has.

“I’ll tear this thing apart,” he growled into your mouth, impatient as ever. Before you could tell him there was a zipper, he ripped the fabric right off your body, tossing it across the room like it was nothing. You didn't even care if it was your favorite dress. The only thing that mattered right now was having him inside you.

You shivered as his hands slid down the waistband of your lace underwear.

“I bet you didn't think I would be the one taking these off of you,” he licked your lips, his cold fingertips meeting your other lips. He pushed his middle finger between them, his eyes dancing with desire as he watched your eyes shut tight. “Lace? So slutty.”

“Your glasses are sluttier.” You held in a whimper.

He smirked, and took his hand away slowly. Before you could complain, he sucked on the fingers that were just near your entrance, and then slid his hand up your matching bra, the pads of his fingers rubbing against the sensitive skin of your nipple. Without warning, he pulled it over your head, and you rested your head in the crook of his neck while his hands caressed your breasts. You kissed his collarbone as his arms snaked around your waist, pushing you backwards until you both fell onto the bed.

He caged you from above, his dick pressing up against your center. You felt the dribble of precum hit your skin, unable to shake the feeling that he was probably the best you ever had—even without entering you. His one arm reached down to pull your underwear off, so quickly you barely knew he did it.

You arched your back into him, begging him with your eyes for him to enter you, but he just looked down at you with a smirk. He ran a hand down your face, almost lovingly, but you knew better.

The minute his dick lined up to enter, and with a sharp inhale, he pushed himself deep inside you, causing you to let out a cry.

You rocked your hips against his as he held himself over you, his eyes locked on yours drunkenly. You couldn't remember when–or if—he ever looked straight into your eyes before tonight. It was fitting that he would only look at you when he fucked you.

His hips clashed into yours, his arms looping around your legs to shove himself further, if possible. You moaned so loud you swore everyone could hear you, but what made you even more turned on was that he was just as loud.

“Say my name.” he said, his glasses still on, making you even more feral. “I want to hear you scream it.”

You looked into his galaxy-like eyes, watching them sparkle with emotion.

You'll never recover from this.

“Seonghwa.” you whined, completely vulnerable under his body.

“Oh my god,” he purred, his eyes darkening. “Say it again.”

You moaned, causing him to move faster. “Hwa…”

You gripped his ass as he moved powerfully, his fingernails piercing your skin while his lips made love to your neck. You could hardly breathe between his god-like movements and the way his touch felt like fire, but when his lips met yours once again, you slid your hands up to hold the hair out of his face.

You smirked.

“Let me ride you.” you said, your voice hoarse from all your moans. He didn't stop moving as you asked, but you saw that gorgeous smirk immediately.

You traded positions, feeling empty as he pulled out of you. The minute you saw him under you, his hair sticking to his face and his eyes full of wonder, you let out a sigh, feeling his pulse from under you. You caressed his stomach with your fingertips, watching those bright eyes shut tight. Bringing your fingers down, you slid them down the V of his muscle, smiling to yourself as he bucked his hips forward. 

You leaned down, your lips meeting his stomach and you moved them further and further up, kissing his chest, his collarbone, his neck. You got to his chin, then his nose, until you softly gripped his glasses. Once they were off, you set them down onto the nightstand, letting out a chuckle as you looked at him.

He blinked up at you, never seeing him with such emotion.

“Beautiful,” he whispered against your lips, feeling his hot breath coat them while his hands caressed your back. 

You furrowed your eyebrows, sliding your finger down his neck to grip his throat. “You make me so mad.” you breathed, a devilish, almost insane look on your face. 

You tightened your grip.

He looked at you, sexy as ever. “Why?”

“Because,” you lined yourself up, hearing him grunt as you pushed yourself onto him. 

“When you call me beautiful, I actually believe you.”

You didn't give him a chance to answer you as you bounced up and down, smirking as you watched him squirm under your hold. You released your grip on his neck, pushing yourself up to ride him better. His hands were on your hips, his mouth agape and his eyes shut tight.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned, leaning up from his sprawled position to wrap his arms around your body, holding him to you as you bounced up and down. Up and down, his lips on your lips. His hands in your hair. His tongue in your mouth. You never wanted this to end.

Who knows how long you've been going. He threw you around, pushing you up against the headboard and tossing your legs over his shoulders. He moaned in your ear, biting the lobe and then kissing it. “I still hate you,” he hissed, his sweat rubbing off onto you as he pressed his head into yours. “I hate how good your pussy feels.”

You tried catching your breath, holding onto him as he crashed. You already came twice, and you felt the third high coming after those words.

“You…” he huffed as you sucked on his thumb, unable to control himself. “You're such a whore.”

You smiled, your legs losing their feeling by how hard he was pumping into you. “Mhm.”

He groaned, tossing his head back. “It's so hot. You're so hot.” his breaths began to quicken, along with his movements. You most definitely will have bruises on your thighs from his grip and marks from the headboard on your back in the morning. “My little slut.”

“Ah,” you cried out, feeling yourself tighten around his pulsing cock. He pushed you up against the headboard even harder, and you felt the sharpness of his fingernails as he bucked his hips a few more times.

He came into you, without warning, and you felt the warmness fill you up completely. His breath was just as hot, hitting your sweaty face rhythmically. You let out a comfortable sigh as he moved your legs off his shoulders.

As you laid out, your back against the wooden headboard and him between your legs, he looked at you, gently, romantically, as if he didn't just fuck you for hours. He reached out, brushing your soaked hair behind your ear with a slight boyish smile.

He looked down at you in awe, unsure of what to do now. He was now a completely different person than he was a few minutes ago. His hands felt the inside of your thighs, his eyes wide. “Do you…do I..” he scratched his head. “Should I…help you? Like, wash up?” he met eyes with you, still drunk, but not nearly as much as he was a few hours ago.

You paused. You never had someone offer you that. Or any after care, in general. It's always been a hello, goodbye. 

He looked like he wanted to take care of you.

You blinked, trying to hide your appreciation. “You…don't have to,” you said, barely audible. He was the smartest man you knew, there was no way he didn't know what that meant.

He looked at you one more time before getting off the bed. You watched as he searched the room, admiring his physique. He found a box of tissues, and he gave you a look. “It's not the best thing, but—”

“It's okay, seonghwa.” you smiled, your hatred for him completely gone. Poof! Nothing was there other than infatuation and some other feeling you couldn't put your finger on. He came over to you then, and gently wiped the inside of your thighs, cleaning you up slowly. You blinked slowly as the tiredness took over you, but you didn't fall asleep just yet.

He looked you up and down from his standing position, his eyes sparkling under the moonlight that peeked through the windows.

He laid on the bed next to you, pulling up the covers and tossing them over both of you. Without thinking, you cuddled up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your head in his neck.

“You should believe it.” he said softly, rubbing circles into your arm.

“Hm?” you mumbled, drifting into sleep.

He smiled and kissed your forehead. 

“That you are beautiful.”

—

11:30 am

New Year’s Day.

Back to the current time, Seonghwa sat up against the headboard, looking as shocked as ever, not even pulling up the covers to hide his bare chest. 

“y/n?” he asked, his eyes wide. “Where are your clothes?”

You stood like a deer in headlights, scared enough to not even bother to hide yourself. He saw it all, anyway. You remembered everything as soon as your fingers touched your dress.

“I, uh,” you sniffed, holding up the destroyed dress in your hands. “You tore it off my body…”

He squinted his eyes, unable to see without those glasses of his. He reached over onto the nightstand, and quickly tossed on those sexy ass round-rimmed glasses. The same glasses he had on when he fucked you so hard you saw stars.

 “What the hell happened last night?” He asked, fixing his glasses to rest right on that pretty nose of his.

Your heart slowed. “You… don't remember?” you asked him, looking down at your aching body. He stared at you, lost, dazed, looking even more fuckable than he was when you were drunk.

This is bad.

He sighed, looking over the bruises on your thighs. “No, I do. I do,” he paused, scratching his head. “I’m sorry about the bruises. And…your dress.”

You wanted to escape. This was the first time you wanted to stay in someone's arms. The first time you wanted to sleep with someone more than once. It was unlike you.

You frantically searched for his shirt on the floor. You grabbed it and tossed it on, and thank god it fit like a dress. Your mind wandered to how he touched you, how he kissed you, how he cleaned you up.

You slid on your underwear, forgetting about the bra and quickly looked for your shoes. He watched you from the bed, a frown on his face. 

“You and your stupid chemical talk,” you mumbled, fixing your hair in the mirror. You looked over at him one last time, feeling your chest tingle from the look he was giving you. “I uh…it was nice. Thanks.” was all you came up with before leaving the room, and leaving him all alone with no shirt and your lace bra.

How were you supposed to fix this?

—

January 30th

End of Winter Break

You sat with your head in your textbook, alone in the library at your college campus. It's been thirty days since your unforgettable night with seonghwa, and here you were, still thinking about it every chance you got.

However, he was back to hating you again. He wouldn't even look at you, or speak to you. It felt like nothing happened, and in all reality, it was all your fault.

San came up to you then, a frown on his face as you made no reaction to his presence. Seonghwa was right—you couldn't even think of san the same way. Not after that night with hwa. 

“y/n,” San sat across from you at the library table, his expression solemn. “You haven't been yourself. Since when do you study?”

You blinked down at your textbook, reading about the anatomical drawings of Leonardo Divinci. It reminded you of seonghwa—not because of the way it looks, but knowing that the chemical reactions of the body lie under the exterior.

“Did you know that we have a whole bunch of neurotransmitters?” you furrowed your brow, your finger dancing along the drawing’s body. “They react to touch. Like this.” you said, circling the figure. San didn't speak, and he knew what happened between you and Seonghwa.

“Hey,” he reached out to shut your textbook, shutting your thoughts up. “What's going on?”

You shrugged, wrapping yourself up tightly in your fluffy coat. “I don't know. I don't know why I’m feeling this way or what it means.”

“It's Seonghwa,” he said kindly, picking at the edge of the textbook. “He’s been the same way, too.”

You sighed. “He won't even look at me, but who can blame him? After all he tore off my dress and called me a slut and bruised my thighs so bad I still have—”

“Alright, alright,” San hissed, making a disgusted face. “I don't need the details. But I can tell you what he said about you…”

Your eyes lit up, meeting his own irises with wonder. “What did he say?”

San bit his lip, and squirmed in the chair he was sitting in. “He said…he said he didn't want you to leave. When he was drunk the other day, he wouldn't stop talking about you.”

“San I,” you sighed, picking at your fingers in your lap. “I had to. That's all I know.”

He shook his head. “It doesn't have to be. Not with him, at least.”

You stared at him for a moment, unable to grasp the emotions you were feeling. “I don't want a relationship.”

He nodded. “He knows that.”

You bit your lip. “I don't know how to love someone.”

“He knows that, too.”

“Then what do I do?” you laughed, a usual occurrence when you were confused. “I want to be with him, but I don't know why.”

He smiled at you, his eyes kind rather than their usual flirtiness. “It doesn't hurt to try, y/n.”

Something blew up in your mind—some sort of chemical reaction you weren't used to. You knew of the feeling of attraction, lust, everything in between. But you didn't know what this one was.

You stood up abruptly. “I gotta go.” the chair nearly tumbled back as you zoomed out of the library, forgetting your backpack and your textbook like they were the least of your worries.

You ran through the cold, having no idea where your destination was. You knew who he was, but not where to find him. You checked his apartment, called hongjoong, and checked the science lecture halls. With him nowhere to be found, you thought your heart was going to give out—that is, until one more place came to mind.

You raced to the campus bus stop, pacing until the bus finally arrived. Your leg bounced up and down rapidly until you reached your stop. You moved so fast you were certain people thought you were insane, and when you finally pushed through the doors of the hospital, you trudged up the stairs to the neuro floor, right up to the main desk.

You took a deep breath to slow your breathing. “Is Seonghwa here?” you asked in a hurry, your heart beating so fast you thought you were dying. 

The lady frowned, giving you the weirdest look. “Who? Is he a patient?”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “No, no. he’s a med student. He should be doing an internship here or something? He’s in neuroscience. Neurosurgery? One of the two, I don't—”

“y/n?”

You heard his smooth voice from the right, and you slowly turned toward him in relief. “Ah, thank god. I need to see you, I think I’m dying.” you inhaled sharply, watching his neutral expression change to worry. 

He hesitated to get closer to you, his lips opening and closing as his mind wondered about what to say. He decided against words and walked over to you, gripping onto your arm before dragging you away and into the on-call room he came out of.

He let go of you, and you stood in the middle of the room with your hands at your sides. He locked the door behind him, and then turned to you with a scowl. “Why are you here?”

You gasped for air. “Listen, I have to be dying. My heart is beating so fast.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s probably because you ran here.”

You shook your head, and he kept his distance to you. “No, it's not just that,” you took a step closer to him. He didn't move back. “I can't stop thinking about you. And when I think about you, my heart races and I feel like I need to see you. Some kind of chemical reaction is going on and it's not the one you told me about when we were drunk.”

He looked at you, his expression unreadable. You stepped closer to him. “It’s probably just your body being confused. It has nothing to do with me—”

“But it has everything to do with you!” you groaned, sweating through the furry coat you had on. You ran a hand through your hair aggressively. “Because you're the one who I see even when I’m staring at anatomy paintings I can't stand it anymore.”

He let his guard down, setting down his arms at his sides. You took a step closer to him, calming down in his presence. 

He looked at you through those glasses of his. “What are your symptoms?”

You let out a sigh of relief. “I uh, I cant stop thinking about you. About that night. I also cant breathe sometimes, and my heart beats super fast whenever I think about you, or if you're with someone else,” you took a breath as he watched you intently. “I don't know if its because you hate me and I cant shake it, or that I still want to sleep with you, or the fact that I want more than that but I’m no good for you but I want to be—”

“Oxytocin.” he smiled, his eyes sparkling.

You stopped, realizing you were so close to him that your shoes were almost bumping together. “What?”

“Your chemical reaction,” he said, reaching out to brush your hair away from your face. The minute his skin met yours, you felt your heart beat even faster. “It’s especially prominent with…skin to skin contact.” the pads of his fingers caressed your cheek.

You felt calm as he touched you. Like you needed it. Only him.

“What does that mean?” you asked him, a whisper.

He smiled, grabbing your face in his hands. “It means attachment. You're attached to me.”

You met eyes with him, looking at how they searched your face for any answer. 

“...Yes. you're right,” you bit your lip as he looked down at you with amusement. “All I know is that I feel so much better now that you're in front of me.”

He smiled. “Good. because I do too,” he looked at your lips, ready to lean down and kiss them. “But just so you know, I plan on ripping your clothes off again. Right here, right now, so you better tell me it won't be the last time. I don't want to hear you say bye to me ever again.”

You nodded in his grip, your face inching towards his. “Mhm. Yeah. I’ll always say hello to you. No bye’s.”

He pressed his forehead into yours. “None.” 

His lips met yours like it was the first time, and you smiled into the kiss like a schoolgirl. You wrapped your arm around his shoulders, kissing him and kissing him like you were made for him.

He made love to you on the couch of the on-call room, making new marks on your thighs and your neck. You never wanted it to end, and this time, it didn't have to.

“I’ll be the only one who gets to rip  your dresses, alright?” he growled in your ear, professing his attraction and attachment to you through actions. 

“Okay, four eyes.”

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez angst #ateez fanfic #park seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa smut #ateez seonghwa #enemies to lovers #one night stand #new year au #parties #ateez fic #ateez san #college au

[harrywavycurly]

It Was Just One Night Part 5: What’s Wrong?

Masterlist: here

TW: Mentions of feeling alone/having no one and language

Tag List: @sofaritsalrightt @emma77645 @ietss @1paire2vans @robyn-118 @josephquinnlover0

A/N: I wanted y’all to get a little more backstory on how you’re feeling and to let y’all see Eddie trying to show you he does kinda care✨

*Eddie needs a favor but you need him to leave you alone for just one day*

#one night stand eddie #eddie munson series #eddie munson enemies to lovers #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x pregnant!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson social media au #eddie munson au #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #dad!eddie x mom!reader #dad!eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #Eddie Munson #my little dungeon master baby

[urfriendlywriter]

One night stand Prompts:

(feel free to usee <3 ! If someone write the 6th prompt, lordd tag me ^^)

"Do you trust me?" A asks, placing kisses all over B's tummy. The wetness trailing down to their heat pauses. B throws their head back, growling, "Fuck, If i didn't i wouldn't be naked under you."

"Mark me yours." "Where?" "Everywhere."

post sex, they lie next to each other after cleaning up, asking each other questions. Getting to know each other. As if they both want something more.

"Do you plan on dating anybody soon?" "Haven't found a person that i want to date." "Give me a chance, darling."

The morning after, A wakes up to find B staring at them. Thoroughly embarrassed, A snuggles under the sheet while B giggles, pulling A closer to their chest. "Morning, stranger."

It's very clear at this point--that neither of them can keep their hands to each other. A is kissing B, cradling their head between their arms while B mumbles, pushing A back, "If you're going to kiss me like.. that, I wanna date you." A smirks, "Keep kissing me back and I'll marry you."

When A is leaving and B clings onto A like a monkey. "I promise I'll come back tonight after work!" A kisses B's top of the head, "But not to fuck. Let's watch a movie." B squeals, "Yes please!"

A and B are cuddling and A couldn't take their eyes off of B. A absently keeps fidgeting with B's hair, caressing their skin, memorizing their freckles and tracing the nose and lips. B tries so hard not to notice but blurts out, "Nobody has ever looked at me the way you do."

When A's friend asked who B was, and A says, "My one night st- My [boy/girl friend]." and sees B's face light up with joy.

When they're waking together and A grabs B's hands and weaves it with theirs, placing a smooch on their knuckles and says, "Mine."

"You were supposed to be an one night thing but I don't think I can the spend the rest of my days without you."

#dialogue prompts #prompts #otp prompts #romance prompts writing #imagine your otp #romance tropes #enemies to lovers #romance writing #smut starter #smut prompts #one night stand #one night stand Prompts #writing tips #writing #otp things #otp dialogue #writing prompts #writing prompt #writer prompts #writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing ideas #writer things #rp meme

[cosmic-crybaby]

Blue Skies - Tommy Shelby

Chapter 18: 'Like Real People Do'

Warnings: Mentions of blood, childbirth, last chapter

Masterlist:

---

Months had passed since your relationship with Thomas Shelby had come to an end.

You had someone by your side with every step of the way. Now just a few weeks away from your predicted due date, Ada, Polly, and Esme were there to help you when you needed them. Even Alfie and John had stopped by a few times when you needed them to. But the Shelby women were there through it all. Esme had made an effort to be with you almost every day, even while she was expecting her first child herself.

Esme also kept Thomas' name to a minimum when it came to conversations with you, although she had wished she could gossip about the recent things he had done. Your mind had drifted back to him from time to time, wondering what he had gotten himself into now or how he was doing in that big mansion all alone. You stayed strong and refrained from reaching out to him for your own sanity.

Esme wore she would never give Tommy any kind of update on how you were doing, but Polly and Ada gave him some peace of mind after answering his burning and persistent questions.

“She’s doing just fine,” 

“Her and the baby are healthy,” 

“Yes, she’s still working,” 

But that was the extent of it all.

Tommy really had no idea how you were really doing, and even though you wanted to keep it that way, he still refrained from stopping by your bakery, or sending a peaky boy or two to keep watch on you and the kids. An extra measure to make sure you were safe. He knew you were smart, and would have spotted them right away, but again part of him wished that was the case so you could talk to him again.

But it was better this way, it kept him up at night, thinking you were all alone now. He stayed awake at night with the regret of ever hurting you and jeopardizing your relationship. The one night with Lizzie Stark caused his heart to shatter every night he went without you in his arms.

You, on the other hand, continued to care for your two children and work on your own for the most part, even if you slowed down the further you grew into your pregnancy. You eventually gave into Esme’s request to help you out when the days got busy or when you simply needed to rest. 

Tonight was Henry’s first orchestra concert. You were adamant on attending, no matter what. You sat in the front row with Elizabeth in the middle between you and her Aunt Esme. Watching him on stage along with the other kids of all ages. You gushed to Esme about how cute he looked in his suit, but went silent as they began to play. Listening to the beautiful symphony of classical music. You proudly gazed up at him on the stage as he focused on the sheet music and the movements of the bow on the strings. It was times like this where you were thankful that Thomas paid for violin lessons so he could perfect his skills on time for the show. Your smile dropped as you felt a sharp cramp to your side, inhaling quickly. Your hand quickly flew to your stomach for a moment until the pain quickly subsided. You managed to sit through the concert in uncomfortable silence, not wanting to miss a second of Henry’s performance. You shift in your seat as you take slow and deep breaths while rubbing your side to calm down. 

Once the curtains close and everyone applauds, you turn to Elizabeth. 

“Why don't you meet your brother backstage when he’s done?” You asked her. 

“Okay mum,” She nods, watching her stand from her seat and skip off to the side of the stage. Esme looked over at you, worried.

“What’s wrong, love?” She asked, moving to sit in Elizabeth's empty seat. You groan a bit, attempting to stand up but sit back down with a shocked gasp. You feel around your dress, as the clear liquid spilled down to your knees and into the floor. 

"I-I think my water just broke," 

You knew your due date was nearing quickly but you didn’t think the baby would come this early. Esme rushes to help you stand, grabbing your arm as you hissed at the aching pain in your back. 

“Come on love, not much time now,” She guides you to stand up. Just as you pass the stage, Elizabeth and Henry walk out. Henry held his violin case as he looked at you. You halt your steps. 

"Oh, you did amazing sweetheart," You smiled at him as he gave you a tight hug. 

"Thanks mum," As he let you go, you reached out for their hands. You glanced at Esme as she nods once to make a call to John.

"Okay, listen..." You paused, taking a deep breath. "We will drop you off at Aunt Adas and then we will come pick you up in the morning when-" 

"Rather than staying with their own father?" A strong voice said from behind. 

"Dad!" The two shouted happily as they ran to him and hugged him tightly. 

"Alfie?" You stood up straight with a groan. After he greeted the kids he approached you.

“No way in hell you’re gonna let my kids be watched over by a Shelby,” 

"Alfie I-”

" Right, I will be taking them for the night, I insist…" He dismissively told you. 

"You really never miss their performances," You told him quietly with a small smile. 

"Of course not, I fuckin' love my family," Even past his burley exterior, you could still see the love in his eyes.

"Mum?" Elizabeth looked up at you. You glance down at her. 

"Right! We'll get you in the morning when the baby gets here. okay?" 

Their eyes brightened up. 

"Okay mum," They said. You slightly bend down to pull them into hug them and give them quick kisses on their cheeks. 

"Stay safe, mum" Henry whispered in your ear. You nodded. 

"I love you, I will see you in the morning," You handed your children off to their father. Just then Esme had returned, rushing to your side.

"Thank you, Alfie," You smiled at him, wanting to just reach to hold his hand, but Esme grabbed your hand first after seeing the sweat beading on your forehead. 

"(Y/n)," She whispered. 

"I wish you well (Y/n), may God protect you, Love...stay safe," 

That was the first time you had seen him show real concern for you in a very long time. 

"Love, the car's here we've got to go," Esme rushed.

In the car, Esme sat in the backseat with you, helping you breathe through the sudden increase of pain as John drove like a madman back to your flat. As planned, you had arrived home and John helped you out of the car and into your bedroom. Esme was quick to call Polly and had her rushed over, since she was the only person you had trusted to help you deliver the baby and she lived only a few streets away. As you sat on the bed, hunched over and panting, John rubbed your back. Even though he had seen this many times before and witnessed the birth of his many kids and siblings, he still felt anxious for you as his hands shook.

"(Y/n) Polly is on her way but we need to get you ready," Esme hurried into the room, holding clean sheets and a large, thin night dress. She had ushered John out of the room, sending him to gather blankets, towels, and water. She helped you undress and put on your nightgown as you finally were able to catch your breath for just a minute before the cramping started up again, this time a loud cry erupting from your throat as you gripped onto the bed sheets. 

"Fucking Christ!" You shouted.

"You're doing great love just keep breathing," Esme calmed you, trying to keep your breathing regulated. She moved your hair out of your face as it stuck to your face the more you began to sweat. 

"Esme, it hurts! I can't do this!" You cried. 

"Yes you can! Just hold on, Polly's almost here," She comforted you. You whine as John entered the room, bringing the things Esme ordered. 

"She's here," 

It was like everything was a huge blur, you had no idea what was going on until Polly greeted you. Hasty, and trying to stay calm as she ordered John to get more water. 

"(Y/n), you've got a fever, you need to stay awake so we can get the baby out, okay?" She spoke clearly. You tiredly nodded. She helped you onto the bed, sitting up as she rubbed your back gently. In the midst of your next contraction you held Esme's hand tightly as Polly checked your dilatation. 

"You'll need to start pushing soon okay?" Polly asked, standing up to wash her hands and grab the pile of linens and towels.

"N-No, I can't, it hurts," You cried, your words coming out like slurs and your eyelids getting heavier. 

"Shit, John! Where is the fuckin' water?!" Polly shouted. The room began to spin as everyone in the room began shouting and yelling at each other. You couldn't comprehend what was happening. Not until you heard him call your name. 

"He just turned up, I couldn't tell him to leave, Aunt Pol he has every right to be here!" John argued. 

"I don't give a shit, he's hurt her in more ways than one and right now she needs help not a fucking reminder of the man who put her in this situation!" She argued. 

"She doesn't even want to hear your name, what makes you think she wants you here?!" Esme spit. 

"(Y/n)," He called. "I need to see her, please," He begged as he tried to push past Polly. She glared at him, refusing to let him through. 

"Only if she agrees," She noted. 

"She's delusional, she can barely speak!" Esme shouted. 

"Tommy?" You mumbled. A whimper left your throat as you looked towards the door. A moment of silence filled the room as he was let in, much to Polly and Esme's dismay. Thomas stood by you and held your hand as you looked at him with a dazed look in your eyes. Your face was pale, your pupils wide, as the sweat drips down your temples and neck.

"Hi love...I'm here now, I'm here for you," He nodded. 

"Polly-" You quickly turned away from Thomas as you called for his aunt. She walked to the bed once again, lifting the sheet to check your dilatation. With a focused face she ordered Esme to help. 

"Give her water, try to keep her cool because this baby is coming now," She hurried. Drinking the water quickly and shutting your eyes as you felt the need to push. 

"You're doing great, (Y/n) just keep breathing," Esme encouraged you as she dabbed your forehead with a damp towel. You nod once as you try to focus on your breathing. The impending pain made you open your eyes as you frantically reached for Esme's hand. Esme held you close, looking up at Thomas to step up and do the same. He was almost frozen in his place as he stared at her.

"Tommy," You called for him again, holding your hand out as he tightly squeezed. You cried out in pain

"It'll be okay, keep going," He looked at you with wide eyes. 

"Fuck!" You cursed loudly as you threw your head back. 

"Almost there (y/n) almost there! One more!" Polly affirmed. It seemed like everything had gone by within the blink of an eye. One last push and one last cry from you and it was all over. The pain became numb as your legs trembled. The warmth of the blood drenched your sheets as Polly gasps in relief. Far too exhausted to lift yourself up to get a proper look at the little bundle as Polly cleaned them up. Your vision begins to double as you sink back into the pillows. The muffled sound of Esme and Tommy calling your name was almost deafened when you heard the coos and crying of the baby. You felt your eyes get heavier and heavier as the sweat and heat began to get too much for you. And with that, you were out. The room was worried for you. Trying to wake you up but the fever, the pain, and the blood loss had all hit you at once. 

That summer, Elizabeth and Henry were sitting on an old blanket on the grassy hills under the trees. The very same spot Thomas had taken them, chasing the ducks and flying paper airplanes over a year ago. The sun was warm and bright as the birds sang and the children laughed. A basket full of food and sweets sat beside them, Henry was restraining himself from sneaking a taste of the apple dumplings. You had approached behind them, the small baby in your arms as you set the small bag of necessities for the baby on the grass before you sat down. 

"Can we take Evelyn to look at the ducks, mum?" Elizabeth asked, the baby cooed and giggled as she grasped onto your fingers. 

"Yeah, let's go before Aunt Esme arrives," You nod as you stand up, and approach the small pond. She was still small, but her chubby hands grasped at the water, giggling as the little gold fish scattered whenever she wiggled her fingers. You chuckled as Elizabeth and Henry fed bread to the ducks, screaming and laughing as the ducks quacked and chased them around if they held the bread for too long. 

"(Y/n)!" Esme had called. You stood up, looking at the top of the hill, holding your hand over your brow to shade your eyes from the sun. She waved happily, the baby in her arms bundled close to her chest. John's kids greeted Henry and Elizabeth before they gathered to run about the hill. The two of you sat on the blanket, watching the kids kick a ball around, their laughs were carried with the wind. Behind you, in the car, John stood. Smoking a cigarette. 

"You alright, brother?" John turned to his older brother. Thomas leaned against the car. You didn't know he was there, and he didn't want to be known. He held the cigarette in his mouth as his hands were shoved in his pockets. He heavily sighs. 

"Yeah..." He mumbled. He hoped to get a glimpse of your new life. You looked happy, laughing with Esme as you held the baby by the hands as she took wobbly steps. The small glance he got at her, in her bright blue eyes. She looked just like a perfect combination of the both of you. It ached him that he had to keep his distance when all he wanted was to be next to you, holding the babe in his arms just as you were now. 

"Why don't you go talk to her?" John asked. He didn't completely understand why Thomas couldn't just man up and talk to you again. But it was more complicated than that. 

"I can't John," 

"Why not? Tom, you were meant to be, just give it a try," 

The days after Evelyn was born, Thomas tried to reignite that spark in you. And as much as it saddened you, you declined.  Your heart wanted you to go back to him, but every other part of you didn’t want to get hurt again. It just wasn't going to work. The amount of times he had hurt you was just too much to overlook the times he cherished you.

"Perhaps meant to be just wasn't for us, John..." 

You picked Evelyn up, lifting her up in your arms before bringing her down to give her a kiss. She squeals as you do it again and again. 

"That's bullshit," John muttered, flicking the end of his burnt out cigarette onto the gravel road. Thomas only took his hand out of his pocket to do the same. Shaking his head, swallowing thickly as he felt the lump in his throat grow the more he watched you. 

And you smiled, maybe not at him, but after all this time you still smiled, so he smiled too. He quickly looks down, licking his lips before pushing himself off of the car. 

"Let's go," He mumbled as he got into the driver's side. He gave you one last glance. Evelyn looked at you before turning her head to Thomas. Locking eyes with him. It was like he lost his breath at just how beautiful she was. Making him think, just how could someone as cold and deadly as himself make something so warm and beautiful. 

"What are you looking at, love?" You asked Evelyn, she looked at you then back to the road. Pointing a chubby finger in that direction. Confusion washed over your face as you looked over your shoulder. You both stared at each other, doing and saying nothing until you lifted your hand to give him a small wave, as a comforting smile formed on your face. Thomas returned the gesture before driving off. Your eyes followed the car until you couldn't see it anymore. 

"You still love him, don't you?" Esme calmly asked. You looked down, swallowing a bit before silently nodding. 

"That's okay...You made the right choice," She scooted closer to you, putting a comforting hand over yours. You nod again, your breath shuttering as you look up. The golden sun casting a glow on your skin as you wiped your tears. 

"We were always made for each other, just never made to last,"

---

This was the final chapter of 'Blue Skies' I really hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I have another Tommy Shelby story in the works that will be posted soon! In the mean time if you would like a bonus chapter with Tommy x (yn) or Alfie x (yn), feel free to let me know.

Tag List:

Read Pinned Post If You Would Like To Be Added

@violet-19999 @micarinitodemiel @dilfsandtherapy @shelundeadxxxx @dragons-are-my-favorite @trixie23​  @babayaga67​  @iambored24601 @heythere-06 @lothbrokcore @joliettes @just-a-throw-away @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @janeswrld @vikingqueen28 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @frozenhuntress67 @cursedalchemist

#peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #arthur shelby #john shelby #esme shelby #polly shelby #polly gray #ada shelby #alfie solomons #grace burgess #lizzie stark #one night stand #angst #angst and hurt/comfort #bittersweet #strangers to lovers #lovers to friends #friends to strangers

[isaut]

𝒐𝒑. 𝟐𝟐 𝒃. 𝟓𝟐: 𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒐 𝒅𝒊 𝒗𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒆— chrollo x reader. 8k. ao3. ethically reposted from my old blog.

there’s a very handsome man who wants nothing more than to take you to see dvorak’s symphonies performed on a winter night. even if you did just tell him you don’t have the time to dedicate to a relationship. it doesn’t matter, you can’t stay away. neither can he. inclusive of all the Ophelia's Kuroro gems: czech composers, french, kuroro-is-just-a-guy, opera gloves, large jewels inherited via a vague late grandmother, tarot readings, incense lighting, angel & princess, sex scene equivalent to panning to an ocean view, showering in your own home. part of ten million jenny. enjoy!

Years ago, your little apartment had served everything you wanted. Windows that opened so you could blow cigarette smoke out of. A small kitchen you spent hours in, brewing coffee for your doctorate, and hours creating the perfect hangover recipes from too-long nights out in the club. 

Now, however, instead of house music hits from the early 2000s blasting through the apartment to keep you awake, you have soothing blues music, crooning through your speaker to keep you calm and alert. Keep you from being too nervous as you apply the last of your jewelry in the mirror. In the reflection of the vanity you’ve had since you were a teenager, since you began this trip into education and been too lazy to move out of your apartment, you take in your appearance. Glossy lips, smoky eyes, teardrop pearls from your grandmother’s premature inheritance. 

You’re honestly still quite confused at how you’ve ended up back here, dolling yourself up with the excitement of a date. A nice, proper date, one where you had to break out a floor-length gown, pearls and emeralds. A date with a man who had punched a hole in your perfect, ten year plan you’ve had since you started college. Get the degrees, as many as you want. Become a spinster. Don’t have kids, whatever you do. Enjoy post-work drinks with your mother on Fridays, because you’re both workaholics. 

Instead. Instead. You’re waiting for a text that your date is here, waiting for your… Your date who you’ve tried to explain to numerous times that you can’t be in a relationship, that you can’t date because… Work, because family, because work, because work, because—

Instead of a text, there’s a knock at your door. A little startled, you apply the last touches of perfume over the dots of vaseline you allied moments prior. You pull on the opera gloves, and clasp a bracelet over your wrist as you head to the door. Your dress swishes around your slippers. 

After a quick look through the peephole, you gasp upon seeing Kuroro standing there, with one hand behind his back. You undo the multiple locks, throwing open the heavy door and giving him a breathless smile. He looks handsome, standing before you. The snow flurries dust his shoulders, his scarf hangs open around the lapels of his blazer, his jacket. 

“I was expecting a text,” You say, inviting him into your home. He ducks his head as he enters and stays in your foyer, not wanting to bring his outside shoes in. 

“Your neighbor was entering the building the same time I was,” Kuroro says. “I hope you don’t mind.” 

“Not at all,” You say. “Let me get my shoes on and we can head out.” 

Kuroro produces a bouquet of winter flowers from behind his back, filled with anemones and camellias, with a few roses sprinkled throughout. Your breath catches, slowing your movements and keeping you in the foyer. 

“Oh these are gorgeous, Kuroro…” 

“They’re just trying to be as wonderful as you,” Kuroro responds sweetly. 

“You’re a flatterer,” You respond. “There are vases on the top shelf of the kitchen, and there’s a step stool tucked between the fridge and the wall if you need it. Make sure to use—“

“The filtered water, I know,” Kuroro finishes, sliding off his shoes for the brief walk to your kitchen. This isn’t his first time filling up a vase in your apartment. He’s glad that the white roses are still in their vase by the window on the tiny breakfast table, even if they are browning on the edges. 

After you had turned down his offer for a steady relationship, a relationship with a title, he didn’t think the roses would still be around. He didn’t think he would still be around. Nonetheless, he retrieves the vase, fills it with the filtered water from the fridge. Places them in your living area. Waits for you to reappear. 

And when you do, you’re a vision. Fur draped over your arms, heels in your hand, a little clutch bag with a delicate chain hanging from your shoulder. 

“There’s my angel,” Kuroro says. He gives you an arm for balance while you slide into your heels, then helps you into your coat. Your perfume wafts over him, and he desperately wants to lean in and smell you better. Place a kiss against your pulse point. 

Instead, he keeps his hand on your waist as you lock your door, escorting you down to his car outside. It’s still sitting out front, hazards on, true to his story. 

As shallow as it is, you can’t remember the last time that you had dated a man who owned a car. What an exciting new aspect to explore. There had simply never been a need for one growing up in the city. 

Kuroro opens the door and has you slide into the warmth before you can formulate a response. It shuts, leaving you in the roll of the heaters. You pull on your seatbelt. You let the shoulder of your jacket fall slightly, only to quickly pull it back up as Kuroro opens his door and slides in. 

His gaze lingers on your once-bare shoulder, before quickly flitting back to your eyes. He fixes you with a charming, half smile that you can’t help but dream about. It’s honestly quite embarrassing. 

Should tonight go well, you’ll be thankful that you cleaned earlier that day. Sometimes with the rush of work, it makes everything so overwhelming. Something about Kuroro… 

You don’t dwell on it. Instead, you place your hands in Kuroro’s personal space. He hates it with others, as you’ve noticed, but loves it around you. Stands in your spaces in lines, sliding through the metro turnstiles right after you. (Sometimes, while this is not a violation of your personal space, but an extension of the previous point, he hops turnstiles to pick you up at the station by his house. Someone has to carry your all too heavy work bag back to his home or yours.)

You place your hands in Kuroro’s personal space, gently tucking back a strand of black hair to see his earrings better. They’re jade, heavy and silver. You lightly run your thumb along the shell of his ear, acrylic nail clacking against the expensive stone. 

“You look handsome tonight, Kuroro,” You say. Kuroro preens under your touches. The blinkers turn off. Gentle music fills the car. It reminds you of some of your own playlists. 

“I had to put in a little extra work tonight, I knew you would upstage me by a long shot,” Kuroro responds easily. “I have company tonight. I intend to impress.” 

“Oh?” You asked, knowing and teasing all at the same time. 

Kuroro hums in agreement. His hand comes off the shift to take yours. He kisses the back of your knuckles as if his heart isn’t thumping in his chest. He hopes his hands aren’t clammy. 

“I barely realized you were wearing gloves,” Kuroro says, after realizing he was kissing velvet, not skin. His thumb smooths over the fabric. “You never fail to surprise me.” 

“I don’t get opportunities to wear them that often,” You reply, breezily and easily. “I’m grateful for the chance.” 

Kuroro lets out one of his little chuckles, where he knows something you don’t. It makes your heart skip a beat. 

“I would have looked like a fool showing up by myself when I had two tickets.” You both know he’s lying, and he bought the second one especially for you. You both only know his reluctance is because you had told him only a few days prior; No, Kuroro. I can’t be your girlfriend, not right now. I have too much going on to be in a relationship.

In all honesty, you were surprised that denying him hadn’t severed your relationship. He had taken it in stride, asking if you wanted a ride home. As long as you aren’t uncomfortable with me being here. Given that you woke up there the next morning, it was safe to say the two of you were alright (for now) of not defining anything. 

The drive to the concert hall is quiet, but it’s not like you aren’t familiar with Kuroro’s silences. It was always as if he was expecting you to offer up some sort of silly conversation for him to dissect. 

Instead, you rest your arm on the centre console and hold his hand. It’s bizarre, how much you miss the feeling of his skin pressed against yours. The cool of his rings clinking against yours. 

Upon arrival, Kuroro takes great pride in arriving with you. He’s able to help you up the stairs, taking each stone step slower. It felt like gliding. At the coat check, he slides your coat off before his, rests his hand on your lower back to guide you through the crowds. 

You end up standing to the side of the theater with Kuroro, each of you holding expensive plastic glasses of champagne in your hands. It’s always so exciting when you get an opportunity to indulge in the bubbly drink. The inability to use your fingers proved freeing, instead of irritating. You knew it was alight with notifications, as it annoyingly is. 

“Normally, when I’m coming to see something here, it’s daylight and everyone is much more casual,” You state. 

“Is it?” Kuroro asks, facing you with genuine interest. 

Drawing your gaze back from the crowd, you let yourself fall into the tunnel of Kuroro’s eyes. The world melts away when you retract your focus back to him. It’s calming, in a sense you’ve never felt before. 

“The university uses it for performances from time to time,” You elaborate. “And to beat the crowd we’re in right now, they’d be right after classes finished for the day. So… Much more casual.” 

You bring your freehand to rest on the lapel of Kuroro’s blazer. Your finger slides under the thick fabric, appreciating the fold of the wool. 

“It’s quite amazing, you know. How involved you are in everything around you.” 

You shrug. “I get invited, and I wouldn’t want to tell any of them no. For all I know they’ve been stood up by their parents for every single of their performances growing up. It’s the least I can do.” 

Kuroro takes in your statement, digests it through his brain. His heart feels like it might pop out of his chest. “Do you go often?” 

“They normally happen at the end of the semester, so. Yeah.” You take a sip of the dry champagne. You wish you could follow it with the sweetness of Kuroro’s tongue. “But I’m going to be completely honest, some of them are horrible.” 

Kuroro can’t help but chuckle at your candidness. “Really?” 

“Really,” You say, shaking your head. “It’s honestly quite ridiculous. I couldn’t imagine spending this much money to end up with such a shit result.” 

The chuckles continue. “Ophelia…” 

“I’m telling the truth,” You insist, doubling down on your statement. You can’t help but smile alongside Kuroro. “Some of them are really good! I get a surprising amount of opera students in my room.” 

It’s absolutely insane, how Kuroro cannot help himself around you. How genuine it feels, talking to you in public like there’s no one else there. 

“I enjoy going,” You summarize to him. 

“You must.” One of his hands comes to rest on your hip, gently pulling you closer. The velvet feels like gold under his fingers. “Not to cut you short, but I have to reiterate how absolutely beautiful you look right now. Everytime I see you…” He shakes his head. “It’s always like a dream.” 

You can’t help but give the poor boy credit where credit is due. “You picked the place, angel.” 

“I did,” Kuroro says, wrapping his arm further around your waist, from your hip to your lower back. “But it’s the company that makes the moment, no?” 

The seats Kuroro had purchased were nice, not too close but not too far from the stage. A little off center. To your left was a balding man sweating in his tuxedo next to a much younger woman, who was busy texting on her phone. 

You look back to Kuroro, who is fixing you with a similar look. Amusement and intrigue at the scene you’ve stumbled upon. With both of you sitting down, you take the pamphlet out of Kuroro’s hands. Boldly, he places a small kiss to your cheekbone, all too intimate for the situation. Or perhaps that’s the angle he’s going for. 

“Do you know anything about the composer?” You ask, crossing your legs and slanting your knees towards Kuroro. He gladly places his palm upon the hidden skin. 

“Not much, quite honestly.” He had been more preoccupied trying to obtain tickets so he could take you on a show-stopping date. “I know he’s Czech. And he’s from the 1800s.” 

You raise your eyebrow. It’s rare for Kuroro to admit he doesn’t know something. Instinctively, you reach for your phone, but remember your gloves. You fix Kuroro with a pleading look, shimmer highlighting the inner corners of your eyes. 

“If only there was a way we could find this information. It’s a shame we’ll have to go to the library tomorrow and look it up in an encyclopedia.” 

Kuroro smiles, pulling his phone out of his blazer pocket, deleting a few notifications before opening up his web browser. He reads the brief summary close to you, allowing you to peer over his shoulder as he reads. You let your hand rest on his arm, thumb slowly making patterns in the thick fabric. 

More and more patrons start to enter, and an elder woman seems thrilled to be sitting in front of Kuroro. The lights dim, and Kuroro straightens up slightly, adjusting his cufflinks in the dim lighting.They catch your attention, and you catch his wrist to examine them as the orchestra begins to file in. 

The examination turns into successful hand holding. Kuroro’s fingers end up moving up and down, to your wrists and the tips of your fingers, intrigued by the sensation of the velvet. It’s sweet, if not slightly distracting. You don’t mind. 

—

On the drive home, you reapply your lipgloss to distract yourself from your question. “Do you want to come up for a drink?” 

Kuroro looks over, admiring the new shine on your lips. Of course he wants to. “I’d be honored to.” 

You give him a little hum and put your lipgloss back in the bag, which seals with a little snap. “Cool.” 

Instead of parking out from the apartment and putting on his hazards, Kuroro circles and looks for a parking spot. He’d offer to have you over to his place instead, where there's a parking garage and an elevator that isn’t always out of order. The offer is on his lips after he has to find parking a block away. 

When he doesn’t get out of the car immediately to open your door, you glance over at him, hands resting expectantly atop your purse. 

“I’m not going to your place,” You insist. “I need to take a shower in my own bathroom tonight.”

“Ah,” Kuroro’s face softens, eyes flicking down to your lips before he turns off the car. Before he can open his door, however, you catch his attention by grabbing his scarf and giving it a small tug. 

“Donne-moi un bisou.” 

Kuroro knows what you mean, but he knows that once he starts he won’t be able to stop. “I don’t speak French.” 

Your jaw drops in disbelief while Kuroro smiles, rounding the car to open your door for you. He offers you his arm, which you gladly take. It was quite cold out, but luckily Kuroro took the opportunity to give you his scarf. The most annoying part of the journey is the swishing of your dress between your feet, which requires all of your attention.

The way up to your front door, Kuroro keeps himself close to your back, as if to shield you from anyone so much as glancing at you. The streets are empty, he has nothing to worry about. He smells warm, full bodied frankincense and amber.

It’s a dangerous game, how natural it feels to have Kuroro in your personal space. Down to just his slacks and three of his shirt buttons undone. In his hand is a gin and tonic, made with purple gin and garnished with a mint leaf. Yours sits on the coffee table while you choose which incense to light. 

You slide the chosen incense stick out of the box, careful to not let Kuroro see exactly which stick you were choosing. You didn’t need him interfering in your business like that. The smoke joins the atmosphere and you wave it around a bit. Chrollo watches the intricate and delicate waves you make before setting it in the incense holder. 

The only part of your outfit that you had removed were your gloves and had exchanged your heels for slippers. It’s endearing, the way you sit on the couch with your drink, lamplight low and intimate. Kuroro’s thankful, in the end, that he was here. It felt a thousand times warmer here than it did at his apartment. 

Kuroro truly doesn’t know what’s come over him, what’s caused him to become so enamored with you. He is also at a complete loss at what he has to do to convince you to be around him all the time. Nonetheless, he had to get to the bottom of it. You were so… Indifferent around him. You didn’t care whether he stayed or went, but always invited him along. 

It was addicting. That’s the only description for how he feels towards you. 

“What do you want to listen to?” You ask. 

Kuroro shrugs. You settle for one of your playlists that isn’t too loud and isn’t too quiet.  Blends of classical and R&B that fill the air. 

He sits on the couch, legs spreading apart in front of him, and gestures to the collection of tarot books cluttering your coffee table. “Do you read?” 

The simplicity of the question causes your brows to furrow, and follow Kuroro’s motions to piece the sentence together. How did I forget? “Sometimes,” You decide on. 

Kuroro hums, “What sort of questions do you ask?” The glint in his eye has the implications you know it does. Two of Cups, Knight of Pentacles, the Lovers. 

“None of your concern,” You easily blow the question off, coming to sit next to Kuroro. Still in your dress, your legs slant to the side and you take a careful sip of your drink. You need to stop filling the glasses so high. 

“I only ask because I’m interested,” Kuroro reminds you. “I’ve always been fascinated with tarot.” 

You raise an eyebrow in interest. “Really? I should have guessed.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, you look like a tarot kind of guy.” 

“I didn’t think I was that easy to pin.” 

“You let me look at your star chart,” You explain, setting your drink down on the coffee table. You bunch your gown up some, so you can tuck your legs under yourself. Part of you desperately wants to go put on something more comfortable (literally), but the other part of you is enjoying the intimacy of the end of the night. 

Kuroro chuckles. “And now you know everything about me?” 

“I know a few things about you,” You say, smiling easily. “Jealous you can’t look at a circle and know all my secrets?” 

It absolutely does. Like a knife to his heart every moment of the day. “All I want to know is what is going on with whatever is influencing you to not be in a relationship.” 

As if you weren’t already. You didn’t have enough time to be in anything as committed as a relationship. You’d drop the ball too suddenly, as you always do. 

“Not a placement, angel, but simply work,” You say, sipping your drink again. 

“Hm,” Kuroro says, looking around your apartment. Takes in the art and the books pile on each other. He then looks back to you, admiring how relaxed you were at home. “Can I watch you read the cards?” 

Your gaze drags over to them. “I dunno, what do you want to know?” 

“That’s quite the open ended question.” Kuroro tips his head back to seriously ponder the question. There’s a crack in your ceiling that makes Kuroro slightly worried. “How about… Hm… Alright.” Kuroro looks back at you. “There’s this wonderful woman I’m talking to right now. How are things looking for us?” 

You can’t help but giggle. “Sounds like quite the predicament.” You take one last sip of your drink, before exchanging it for your tarot cards. The large cards shuffle easily in your hands, after the countless years of practice you’ve had. 

“It is,” Kuroro bemoans, “I need any guidance I can receive.”  

“I’ll do you, her, and you both. How does that sound?” You ask, knocking the cards three times before placing a little kiss to the deck, and then resuming your shuffling. 

“Sounds wonderful,” Kuroro says, watching with purse admiration  and fascination. The three cards all but slide out of your hands, and you look at them with interest. 

“Oh, this is interesting,” You say, “You’re the Chariot, she’s the Queen of Cups, and together the two of you are Death. It looks like no matter what happens there will be a lot of change and rebirth that happens.” 

“What does the Chariot mean?” Kuroro asks. 

“Success and victory,” You say, letting him look at the card but not touch. “He’s a king who is able to parade his triumphs around, and deserves it. The Queen of Cups on the other hand…” You can’t help but bite your bottom lip. “She’s a dream. A wife. A more traditional woman.” 

“Is she?” Kuroro asks. You nod. “Interesting…”

“But death is a good card. It brings a lot of good, healthy change. And it’s your card.” 

“My card?” 

“Scorpio card. Card of transformation and all that,” You say, adding the cards back to the deck. You shuffle them once more, and then set them back on the coffee table. 

Queen of Cups… it wasn’t a card you were used to seeing describe yourself. And you had a hard time believing there was another woman. Another force, yes, previous readings had said the same thing. But work can be a powerful force. 

Kuroro thinks that over, watching as you begin to take off your earrings. “Do you want some help?” 

You stop your fiddling and place your hands in your lap. “If you’re offering.” 

“Of course I am,” Kuroro says, setting his drink down and scooting closer on the couch. 

To keep him close, you rest your hand on his thigh. His fingers are feather light against the clasps of your jewelry, which he sets delicately in your hands. The jewelry is discarded on the coffee table with little clinks. Your legs extend out, opening up your chest to Kuroro. Much more inviting. 

Kuroro stays close by, letting his arm extend over the back of the couch as conversation drifts between you. Both of your drinks eventually end up empty. 

“Do you want another?” You ask. 

As much as Kuroro wants to say that he doesn’t, that he needs to drive home soon and leave you be, he doesn’t want to. He straightens out his arms to check the time on his watch. 22:34. 

“Do you have work in the morning?” He counters. 

“I have my yoga class in the morning…” You respond. 

Kuroro hums. He brings his hand down to rest upon your velvet clad hip. He glances up at you, through his lashes and directly into yours. 

“I don’t want to come in between you and that,” Kuroro says. 

“You wanna come with, pretty boy?” You ask, sliding your fingers through the little strands of hair at the nape of his neck. 

Kuroro chuckles, cheeks heating at the petname. “I don’t— Yoga really isn’t my style.”

“One more drink, then,” You say, tapping his wrist with your hand. He stands, holding his hand out for you. 

“I need to get out of this dress,” You say, restituating the garment as you stand. Kuroro’s eyes don’t miss the way the shuffle causes your breasts to shift and press against your chest before settling back into place within the dress. 

“If you dare trust me, I can make the drinks and you are more than welcome to change.” Normally you make the drinks, as you were particular about small things. Kuroro often only served wine. 

You contemplate his offer. “Okay, just don’t change the liquor.” 

“Yes ma’am,” Kuroro says, dipping down to give your hand a kiss, then your cheek. “Don’t take too long.” 

You don’t. Your dress gets laid out on the bed, discarded to be placed into its bag later. In its place, you settle for a large sleep shirt and slippers. Your jewels from the night join your jewelry box again, your hairpins into a pile on the counter of your bathroom. 

It feels like heaven when you’re able to run your acrylics along your scalp. Exiting your bedroom, you leave the door open. There’s no need to close it, no true need for privacy around Kuroro. He’d already touched your soul. 

Entering your kitchen, you stop in the entryway to fully process the scene in front of you. Kuroro, his back towards you, rooting around in your fridge. You come up behind him, running your fingers up and down his spine. 

It’s a little disappointing that Kuroro doesn’t react to the light touches. 

“I can’t find your simple syrup,” Kuroro says, frowning as he pushes around some condiments. 

You reach around him, opening up one of the drawers and pulling out a tupperware. “Right here, angel.”

Kuroro wraps his arm around you before you can go too far from him. Your kitchen is small, compact. There isn’t anywhere to go, but Kuroro still feels the need to pull you in. He doesn’t want to shout across the room. 

His compliment gets lost in your beauty. He’s fucked. 

“Wanna help me make them?” You ask, tilting your head to your side. “You’ll have to pay attention.” 

“I’m always paying attention,” Kuroro says. His thumb slides over the soft material of your shirt. 

“Mhm,” You say, unconvinced. One of your eyebrows raise, and Kuroro leans in to place a kiss against the incredulous gesture. A grin breaks across your face, relaxing the muscle immediately. 

With easy, rocking steps Kuroro is able to press you up against the counter, right next to where the drink ingredients lay. Your lower back hits the sharp of the granite counters, and his lips slide against yours, drinking in your little gasp of surprise. 

A familiar warmth shoots through you. It's always so easy to get lost in your memories and your dreams, to get a little ahead of the situation. But you’ve had a long day, you had champagne and now liquor, and there’s a gorgeous man backing you up against your kitchen counter, kissing you like there’s all the time in the world, and this is the one thing he wants to do. 

You set the tupperware of simple syrup on the counter, next to the shaker and the mint, not breaking the kiss. Your fingers thread through the hairs at the nape of Kuroro’s neck, dancing along the knot securing his tattoo covering. 

“Are you staying?” You whisper against his lips. 

“I don’t know, am I?” Kuroro asks, smile prevelant in his voice, 

For once, you don’t feel like formulating a witty comeback. No sharpness to bring him closer. “You’re more than welcome to if you’d like. But I can’t force you to stay.” 

“I’m sure you could,” Kuroro murmurs against your lips. “You could lock the door, you could chain me up—“

“Chain you up?” You laugh. “Will it really be that hard to keep you here?” 

Kuroro’s lips twitch into a fond smirk. “I’m just offering ideas.”

“Such an odd thing to suggest,” You hum. “I was just going to hope another drink would suffice…” 

“And it absolutely will,” Kuroro assures you. He places one more kiss to your lips, then to your forehead. “Will you trust me enough to make your drink this time?” 

“No, I’ve got it, I’m here now,” You say. Always a ‘control freak.’ Kuroro can’t help but chuckle lightly. 

Instead of taking his usual perch, leaning up against the counter, he lingers along your back. His hand is loose, sliding back and forth from hip to hip.

He keeps a careful watch as you make the drinks. One day you’ll let him make them. That he was sure of. You muddle blueberries with mint, add tonic water that you somehow never run out of. Spoon out simple syrup. Shake and pour over fresh ice. 

“Do you want something to eat?” You offer, handing Kuroro a glass. 

It's hilarious how quickly you can watch Kuroro’s thoughts turn dirty. Perhaps you should have made a martini with a splash of olive brine to match. You tilt your head to the side, a teasing smile weaving across your face. You reach up to ‘fix’ Kuroro’s collar, despite it not needing any help. 

“It would not be proper of me to ask,” Kuroro says, gently tugging your hand from his chest to his lips, placing a kiss against the pulse point. 

“Are you asking for cheese in a lactose intolerant lady’s home?” You ask, smiling wider. 

Kuroro can’t help but chuckle against your wrist, then against the palm of your hand. “You are impossible for me to flirt with, Ophelia.”

“What are you going to do? Chain me up?”

Kuroro’s eyes glint in the antique ceiling lighting of your kitchen. “Are you going to make it that hard for me?” 

With the leverage from his hand in yours, Kuroro pulls you closer. He has the foresight to set his drink down on the table. Instead, you purposefully tilt your glass towards him so the purple mixture trickles down the front of his shirt. 

“Oops,” You say, unremorsefully. You set your drink down on the counter. “Looks like you’ll have to take your shirt off.” 

Kuroro chuckles and shakes his head. He leans against the counter behind him. Your kitchen is a shotgun— barely an aisle between both counters. 

“If you want me shirtless so badly, you are more than welcome to help yourself.” 

Your bottom jaw drops in shock, and it takes a moment for you to collect your senses. You raise your hands up, showing off your five-day-old manicure. “I can’t, I just got my nails done.” 

Kuroro hums, taking your hand back into his, examining the nails. “I’m pretty sure I paid for these. If you mess them up, I’ll just do it again. I know how horrible buttons can treat dried nails.” 

His teasing causes a scowl to form across your face. You pull your hand out of his to pick up your drink, taking a sip of it. “Fine. Enjoy being wet.” 

Kuroro reaches next to you to pick up his drink, already undoing one of his buttons. “That sounds like something you‘re much better at than I am. Do you want to join me back on your couch?” 

“Let me get your shirt in the wash, first,” You offer. 

Intrigued, Kuroro raises his eyebrows. “Really?” 

With a soft, too-loving sigh, you begin to unbutton the now-soiled shirt. “I have no reason to be rude to you.” Your acrylics tap against each other as you undo the buttons, revealing the expanse of Kuroro’s chest, marred by an undershirt. You pull his shirt out from his slacks, and continue to undo the last button. Your hands slide across the planes of his chest to push the garment off his shoulder. 

With the shift in your hands, you begin to bunch up his undershirt around his bellybutton, pulling the front free from his pants. “Do you want something else to wear while your stuff is washing?” 

Kuroro pulls his shirt off, muscles flexing in the antique lighting. A little smile pulls at his lips, as he catches how your gaze lingers. You’re always lingering. 

“I don’t think I’ll get cold,” Kuroro says, “Let me keep you company.” 

You lead Kuroro to where your laundry machine is, back away in your closet. It’s a bit of a mess, but you lift the stack of towels off the washer and place them atop the dryer to be taken to the bathroom later. You take Kuroro’s shirt and lay it on the washer, applying a stain remover to it. Liquor stains were nothing new. 

As the machine begins, Kuroro turns you around to face him with his hands on your hips. You rest yours on his chest, heart thudding in your chest about how intimate the situation was. It’s so loud, in your ears, that you wonder if Kuroro can hear it too, in the small space. 

Lightly clearing your throat, you glance up at Kuroro, tilting your head back a bit. You’re able to see the sharpness of his jawline, admire the way he slowly tilts his head down to make eye contact. “Do you want to change out of these?” 

Your hands slowly slide down his chest, towards his waistband. As your thumbs narrowly dodge his hard nipples, you can feel his own heart under your hands. Your fingernails gently slide along his waistband, along the metal of his belt buckle. Kuroro’s abs tense for a moment before relaxing. 

“Would you like me to?” 

“It seems rude of me to not offer. I can’t imagine your slacks are very comfortable.”

There’s a brief moment, where Kuroro wonders if you’re also speaking of the growing harness in his trousers. And no, it was not comfortable. 

“Do you have anything for me to wear?” Kuroro asks. 

“I should have something, but you’ll have to give them back before you leave,” You say.

“Oh? Why’s that?” Kuroro asks, keeping you boxed against the rumbling washer. 

You bite your bottom lip before losing it to a devious smile. “Because I need them.” 

“You need them?” Kuroro asks, voice barely a murmur as he dips his head. “I’ll be sure to take good care of them.” 

He pulls away all too soon to let you go through your closet. Opening up one of your drawers, you retrieve the oversized pair of sweatpants and present them to Kuroro. He takes them with an amused look on his face, unfolding the maroon fabric. 

“You know, I’ve been looking for these.” 

“Have you?” You ask, pretending to look surprised. You don’t know how well it’s performing, but you assume it's not well. Kuroro’s eyebrows raise as he licks his lips to keep himself from smiling. 

“I have,” Kuroro says, his reluctant smile breaking through. He begins to undo his belt buckle. “I don’t remember leaving them here.” 

“Oh, that’s strange,” You say, trying to put as much distance between yourself and the topic. “If you want to, you can throw your pants in the wash too. I’ll be out in the living room.” 

You slip out of the room and head back into the kitchen, retrieving both drinks and setting them on the coffee table in the living room. While waiting for Kuroro, you find a throw blanket, one of your lightest, and drape it over your lower half, tucking your legs under your body. You also click on the TV, pulling up soft music for the background. 

When Kuroro finally makes his reappearance, there are a few strands of wet hair that frame his face, as if he’s splashed water on it. His tattoo is on display, which you’re quickly loving more and more than the first time you saw it. He remains shirtless, a simple, silver cross hanging around his neck like normal.

Kuroro pads across the room confidently and sits in the middle of the couch, pulling the throw blanket over his thighs, resting his feet on the coffee table. “I like your new hand soap.” The new soap addition smelt of roses and pumped out a little foam rose into your hand when you used it. 

“Thanks, I picked it up the other day at the grocery. Isn’t it fun?” 

Kuroro hums in agreement. He leans in, cupping your cheek with his still-chilled hand from the water. The rose scent lingers just slightly. You tilt your head back to refrain from opening your eyelids any more than you had to. 

There’s a constant question thrumming on the back of your mind. Kuroro is intoxicating, why were you so adamant about keeping him at arm's length?

Because he is intoxicating. Of course. It's always good to keep things far away that are a source of addiction.  

“Want you to spend the night,” You whisper. You close your eyes so you can only see the sliver of Kuroro’s cheeks. If you wanted to end the conversation, it wouldn’t take much more than a tip forwards to kiss him. “Been having weird dreams lately.” 

“Have you?” Kuroro asks, brow furrowing with slight worry. 

You nod. His thumb glides along your cheekbone. You rest fully into his hand, cheek smushing against his palm. 

“Alright, I’ll stay,” Kuroro murmurs. “You don’t need to convince me, though.” 

“I’m just telling you how I feel,” You say, swallowing the shy, scared lump in your throat. Emotions were so hard to convey, weren’t they? 

“I’m listening.” Kuroro’s lips slide against yours. The kiss starts off soft, gentle. With Kuroro’s hands tracing your hips, sliding down your sides and questioning your tummy, your back. 

You press into his space, encouraging him to lean back. The throw blanket creates a soft barrier between your panties and his sweatpants. It’s too thick to see if he kept his underwear on. Gods, you hope he didn’t. If he didn’t you wouldn’t be giving them back. 

Gently, Kuroro’s hands wander under your shirt. His fingers ghost over the hips of your cotton panties as if he’d never traced those lines before. They dip under your shirt, keeping a steady hold on your hips. Your lips move against his in careful, slow movements, always following Kuroro’s pace. One wrong move, and you worried he’d slip out of your fingers, despite Kuroro’s stickier fingers. 

Kuroro’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip, sweet and minty. All too quickly, you let his tongue tangle with yours. One of your hands twirls the strands of inky black hair in your fingers. You wonder if he dyes it. A light moan slips into your mouth from Kuroro’s as you lightly suck on his tongue before his bottom lip. 

You pull away with lidded eyes, to meet Kuroro’s wide-blown pupils. His eyes are so dark, like coffee beans, that they send a spark of energy through your body. Your heart thrums in your chest, Kuroro can feel it through the throw. He shifts in his seating, as if it’ll be embarrassing for you to discover how hard he is. 

He’s worried about how good it will feel when you start teasing him for it. 

Kuroro pulls away with expectant eyes that search yours, while his hands slide further and further up your body, inching your shirt up more and more. He exposes the crease of your thighs and hips, the barest hint of your mound, before the fabric falls back over his hands and bunches up at his wrists. 

You settle yourself fully in his lap, pressing your chest against his. In a daydream, moments ahead of you, you dream about the sensation of your nipples sliding against his smooth chest. Of the way your nipple piercings will slide and roll and electrify… 

You sigh into Kuroro’s mouth, one of your hands tracing their way down his neck, over the muscles, over the bump of the silver chain. A shiver rolls up his spine at the touches. Your chest presses against his, your hand splaying out on his collarbone, just below his neck. 

There isn’t enough fabric to conceal the way both of you are aching for the other. Throbbing sex pressing into the tent, not even the hardness yet of Kuroro’s cock. Everything is so warm. 

Neither of you push the other into the fire, instead gently kindling. Kuroro’s hands knead the fat of your thighs, grazing over your ass. You shiver under Kuroro’s fingers, as they move further up your spine, the other passing over your ribs.

You slowly roll your hips against Kuroro’s, exchanging soft groans against your tongues. His hand slowly slides to cup your breast, thumb gliding under the crease. A gentle sigh leaves your lips, slowly pulling back from the kiss. 

“You’re good, angel,” You whisper. With one bold hand, you take Kuroro’s wrist in yours and slide his hand all the way over your breast. His Adam's apple bobs as your nipple slides between his fingers, when the full weight of your breast sits in his hand. 

Kuroro pulls you close, lifting your shirt quickly so he could watch the way you fit in his palms. 

“Shameless.” Your voice is breathless, washing over Kuroro. His gaze moves from your chest to your eyes. He’s unable to hold your gaze for one moment, eyes dipping back down before fixing back upon yours with reverence. 

The two of you gravitate back towards each other. Kuroro slides your sleep shirt above your head with no resistance. Your arms wrap around Kuroro’s neck, nails sliding through his hair. As he rolls you onto your back, he slides his thigh between yours. He lets out a breathless sigh at the heat pooling from your pussy, from the way he can feel how your underwear grazes against your wetness like satin. 

Kuroro lowers his head from your lips down your jaw, tracing a path behind your ear, down your neck. He leaves heavy kisses along your pulse points, purposeful in their intent to stutter your gasps, their intent to have one of your legs clasp around his hip, tightening. 

His tongue swirls around your nipple, stoking the warm waves in your groin. His muscles ripple along his back as he lowers himself, placing more of his bodyweight on yours. There is no mistaking his erection, not with the way it nudges at your clit, slides so close to being between your folds. 

Kuroro’s movements remain firm and steady, confident in the way they make your body shake below him. His fingers dance around whichever nipple his mouth cannot attend to, his hips roll ever so slightly against your aching cunt. You stifle a moan, moving your hand from Kuroro’s hair to cover your mouth instead, facing away from him to try and hide it. 

“Ophelia…” Kuroro cups your face, turning your head back towards him, back so you had to look at him. He smiles softly, upon seeing your pretty eyes open for him. 

You give him a little whimper. He grinds the firmness of his cock against your heat again, so, so close to being perfect. It’s like torture. You know what he looks like, what she feels like. You want to taste the saltiness of his precum that dribbles onto a little pool, want to be able to see the way it collects at the uncut tip. 

“Princess…” The nickname is patronizing, with the way he tilts your chin back to look at him, out of your daydream. “Where’d you go?” 

You can’t help but bashfully look away again, despite Kuroro’s attempts to get your eyes to meet his again. 

A soft puff of air hits the shell of your ear, Kuroro exhaling, perhaps laughter, before your body is revealed to your apartment and Kuroro sits back. His hands slide up your stomach, your thighs. His thumbs press into the fat, encouraging you to let him just have a little look at the way your cute bedtime panties had a damp little spot on them. 

“Pense de toi,” You whisper, using your knee to urge Kuroro to come back to you, back to kissing you. He obliges, hand following the bend of your hip, your knee, slowly extending your leg, waiting for the muscles to shake, waiting for your knees to turn towards each other when he exposed you too much—

Instead, your shamelessness moves slowly. You gently guide his other hand to slide past the wetness of your panties, to gently tuck them to the side and expose the wetness slipping through the velvet folds. Kuroro’s mouth waters. The kiss he shares with you is smooth and slick, his tongue sliding along yours. 

As he pulls away slowly, there’s a strand of saliva that holds between the both of you. Before he can break it with his tongue, his fingers, you quickly reach up to grab his face, smooshing his cheeks together. Saliva collects on his tongue, and you can’t help but press your thumb against the muscle. 

Kuroro’s lips close around the digit slowly, before his head dips down, leaving sloppy kisses across your chest, at the hinge of your thigh. All he lets touch your pussy is cool air, and the occasional hot breath. Despite your little nudges with your thighs, Kuroro refuses and refuses. You can feel the way his teasing zips through your veins, with the little bites left here and there and—

It’s so unexpected, when Kuroro swipes a fat, wet line through the folds of your pussy, causes your hands to fly to his hair, for a moan to fly through your lips. You can’t cover it in time, and Kuroro smiles with pride. His tongue swirls around your clit a few times, before he brings his face level with your chest. He rolls the buds of your nipples, lets you drag your pussy across his still-covered cock. 

Both of your releases roll through you, ebbs and flow in an unexplainable synchronicity. They roll through your bodies, almost unnoticed by the unhurried pace you kept. 

It’s fine, though. You’re only able to continue your acquisition of Kuroro’s sleepwear if he continues to cum in it. Kuroro’s face is cute when it’s pink, when he’s whining your name into your neck and the two of you are left sticky and nearly connected. Nearly connected, because the condoms are in the bedroom and it feels too good to stop the rutting against each other. 

Kuroro makes sure you received your earlier wish, from in the car. That you’re able to shower in your own bathroom tonight. He joins you, enjoying the tighter fit and the eucalyptus and lavender. 

In all honesty, he just doesn’t want to have to stop touching. There’s soap and lotion  and he stands next to you while you both brush your teeth. His toothbrush hadn’t been put away yet from the last time he was there. 

In the light of your salt lamp, the room is filled with a warm glow. Freshly lit incense, lavender vanilla, fills the air. You have trouble sleeping without the same comforts every night. Kuroro doesn’t mind. Your bed is a thousand times more comfortable than his. He’s a welcome guest by this point

The brown noise machine whirs low in the background, keeping your eyelids opening and closing. Kuroro returns the long blinks, like little discreet messages of adoration. As if there was anything discreet about the way he felt for you.

Instead of your weighted blanket, you cuddle with Kuroro under the chill of your duvet and silk sheets. He shifts and tilts his head, creating a perfect spot for you to press your face against. You eagerly take up his offer, taking a deep, content breath as you press up against him, his hand around your back and pulling you closer. 

This was nice. Come morning, come time to get out of bed, he would be a gentleman again. There would be no more wandering hands, no more kisses given out liberally. Instead he’d politely drink your coffee, maybe give you a kiss on the cheek as he walked out of your apartment. 

You choose not to dwell on the future. 

#chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer x reader #kuroro x reader #kuroro #honeypie #when i said last night he used to warm my pussy this is what i was talking about #also dvorak is such an amazing composer PLEASE listen to the linked song while they're at the symphony #his lil cherub banner i think its so darlingggggggg #i will ramble now. #the thing with ten million jenny is that right now they are NOT HAPPY AND GOOFY LIKE THEY ARE HERE !!!!!!!!!! #and i cant stand it AKLSJDHFAKLSJDFH #HAPPY SUNDAY KURORORI LOVERS !!!!! #its sunday it means its chrollo's day #GODS remember when i used to be able to end fics #those were the days #swooning over kuroro in this to this day #the only good thing about my days of drug use was that i used to write shit like this in one sitting

[constantvariations]

A trend in Astarion fics that I find bizarre is the idea that he's never been treated gently during sex. This is difficult to believe for one simple reason: some of Astarion's victims were virgins.

Astarion: You were handsome. Shy. You'd never been kissed. Sebastian: You taught me how. And then you destroyed me.

I get the desire to make his current partner special by having their sex be good and wholesome in comparison to his other trysts, but this is a flawed sentiment. The cutscene of that first night together is incredibly tender from the kiss to laying on the grass - the only outlier being if you offer your neck - and if you sleep with Astarion but keep it at that night, Astarion himself says he will never forget you. Not because the PC was uniquely gentle with him in bed, but because they were the first person he ever slept with of his own free will. It's his choice that makes that night special to him moreso than anything the PC may or may not have done during that time.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #astarion #the only exception i have to this is rimming. im down so bad for him being overwhelmed from being eaten out its not even funny #also the blood drinking since that is canonically new. makes me wonder how not being hungry would specifically affect him during sexy times #it's an eat or be eaten out world #...anyway #other factors can and probably do make their adult fun times special for him. particularly the intricacies of personal dynamics #a night w a pc that listens to him. lets him drink often. and saves the tiefs is def more special than one w a pc who does none of those #i really enjoy the tension between his hating heroic types and them being the most likely to provide the things he needs to survive #oh and smth thats somewhat related to this #i don't think astarion ever let his conquests see his back #in the clearing he's always facing his partner and even the camera doesnt show his back until the dramatic reveal #given that his victims were all one night stands it'd be p easy to convince each of them to do it face to face #leaves plenty of positions and ftf is oft more romantic which could def be an interesting conflict for him and his lover #so many common gestures of affection have been ruined for him. theyre just motions at best now #that makes it easier for their faces to be ingrained in his head so. bonus trauma lol

[allcheers-allfears]

we were so robbed of seeing Jack’s perspective to his growing relationship with Ianto. I just think seeing a conversation (him and Gwen presumably) where he realises what’s happening (falling in love) and the implications (with a mortal) would just fuck me up and I need to experience it

#the conversations ianto has with owen (a day in the death - esp the extended script) and tosh (dinner and a show) #GODDD they are emotional #but in terms of jacks perspective? #I think the closest we get is the banter in some of the comics? #if anyone does have names of media that have this kind of perspective pls do drop the name🥺 #(thqt includes audio/novel/fics etc!) #I just think he would have so much to say #when he notices it’s not gonna end up a one night stand (or 100 night stand) #and how much he will lose when his lover inevitably dies #jack harkness #janto #torchwood #and dont talk to me about the conversation in CoE that did not even scratch the surface #he was being Mr Emotional Constipation there #hence why I think he would be talking to gwen about this #they will talk to anyone but each other about their relationship istg #sorry this post is like 75% tags lmao

[grosslyoversimplifiedpolitics]

[ID: friends to one night stands to potential future lovers]

#ao3 #ao3 tags #friends to one night stands to potential future lovers #allusions to sex

[ahit-oc-corner]

HI DON'T JUDGE ME

HI Okay guys this is so random is also so crazy BUT STICK WITH ME! SO CONTEXT i am planning on opening Ko-fi commissions this weekend and i had an insane late night thought and wanted to see thoughts on the matter on the poll

#smore talks #im posting this here cause the folk who love snatcher must follow me i follow a few so there gotta be some people who would like that? #or else ill just be the sore thumb insane snatcher lover standing in the crowd #i was thinking on like idk if making it doodle page where you can write lines and ill just draw snatcher base on that?? #maybe 6 doodles? and ill add an add-ons for flat color? still thinking #i might be insane but look IF IT GETS ME TO DRAW THE BABYGIRL MORE ID LOVE IT CAUSE I ALREADY DRAW SO MUCH CRINGE OF THE GHOST I yearn u_u #but now i sleep now gn yall who will see this insane uh srry not srry have a goodday and night cyaaa

[lexxwithbooks]

📖: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 (𝑂𝑓𝑓-𝐶𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑢𝑠 #2) 🎙🏒🔧

✍🏽: 𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝𝐲

Get the book! 🌟

#the mistake #off campus series #off campus #elle kennedy #grace ives #john logan #grace x logan #logan x grace #one night stand #friends to lovers #new adult #hockey player #hockey romance #hockey #contemporary romance #collage romance #sport romance #dual pov #spicy #spicy reads #spicy books #smutty books #smut #virgin heroine #new books #books recommendations #books #books recs #libros #libros recomendados

[hamartia-grander]

I appreciate and understand that Bg3 wants to let you romance any party member you want to, but I genuinely hate how it makes the characters come onto you even without any prior hints at romantic intent. Like I have never had Halsin in my party, I have never talked to him outside of missions, and now he's saying he wants my character. I have never flirted with Wyll but he still tried to kiss my character when we danced and was sad when I chose to turn my head. Like it's understandable for Shadowheart to want to be with me when I already kissed her and have had her in my party from the start, but it doesn't make sense for Gale to suddenly want me as a lover when I never interact with him. And it just makes me super super uncomfortable interacting with any character I'm not certain I want to romance bc it immediately turns me away when they act like they're in love with my character despite no previous romantic interaction. Idk how a game like this doesn't consider whether the playable character has even initiated anything romantic before forcing the other characters to come onto them randomly.

#Also as a lesbian when a male character says he wants to be with my character I'm instantly vomiting I'm sorry #ESPECIALLY when I literally never talk to them!!! Halsin saying he wants my character made me so fucking uncomfortable man #Also gale flirting like one of the first nights at camp. What the fuck was that. #I also cannot stand gale sorry gale lovers he has my full dislike #Bg3 #baldur's gate 3

[levans44]

Damage Control - Chapter 1

She’s never going to a Stark party again.

9:54 pm, Yesterday

He had lured her in the same way he always does, with sparkly words and false promises of an “intimate gathering.”

“C’mon, it’ll be real small. Promise.” Tony Stark’s sly smirk crawled through the phone, soft jazz and the rustling of pre-party preparations filling the background. “Exclusive guest list, VVIPs only. You know me! Plus I think Brad Pitt’s coming. You like Brad Pitt right?”

From all of the commotion behind him, she could already visualize the state of his mansion - extravagant bottles of champagne lined up along sleek bar tops and 40ft limos pulled up on his shiny marble driveway, ready to greet a dazzling guest list that would put NYC’s 1 OAK to shame.

Yeah. Intimate gathering her ass.

She snorted, rolling her eyes “Tony, you and I both know that’s bullshit.”

“No, seriously! Apparently his kids love me and are dying to get a signed mask, I mean who wouldn’t-”

“-you know that’s not what I meant.”

“So you’ll come?” She opened her mouth to refuse, then closed it, hesitant to give him a straight answer. This bastard knew perfectly well what he was doing. He was waving the guaranteed sophistication of a signature Tony Stark party in front of her face, and no matter how much she told herself not to, she knew she’d end up chasing after it like a dog every time.

She let out an exasperated sigh, head hitting the back of the couch with a ‘thud’.

“I don’t know Tony, Anne’s been up my ass all week about finishing the Times Square write-up, which is your fault by the way.” She poked the air with an accusatory finger.

Working under SHIELD’s Damage Control division had its ups and downs, but it was no easy work having to cover for the Avengers and the wreckage they left after every battle. Just this past month, a battle on 45th street between the team and the Kree had only lasted 20 minutes, but had caused her weeks worth of paperwork and overtime. Handling a million lawsuits, mending financial deficits, and approving blueprints for reconstruction, she couldn’t remember the last time she went to bed before 3 am.

“Hey, Squidward attacked us first! Something about the Avengers being the first step toward world domination.”

“Well, you should have killed him and his friends when you had the chance, cause thanks to them, I now have a 30-page writeup to edit” she glanced down bitterly at the open computer in her lap, glaring at the document in scorn.

Tony chuckled through the speaker. “So come to the party, it’ll help take your mind off things.”

Despite her annoyance, she appreciated the familiar sincerity in his voice — Tony had always been somewhat like a father figure to her away from home.

Miles from her family living in a tiny New York studio, she met Tony her sophomore year of college working as a nervous intern for Stark Industries. A few summers later and she was promoted to the grand title of personal assistant, attending boozy galas and benefits alongside New York’s famed billionaire.

At the time, she wouldn’t have missed his parties for the world. It would have been weird if she had, considering how most people her age spent their Friday nights in lines for dingy clubs with overpriced drinks. Her Friday nights were spent on private flights to Amsterdam or Paris.

But alas, she slowly departed from the fleeting materialism of her youth, and took off in search of a job where she could step away from the spotlight for a while. She landed her current job at Damage Control under Anne Hoag, an old business partner of Tony’s, and had slowly lost memory of the glamorous Stark parties over the years. Now, the opportunity to revisit that time in her life had arrived at her doorstep, all wrapped up in a pretty package, daring her to refuse.

Tony’s smug voice interrupted her thoughts, sounding satisfied with her long pause. “Great, knew you’d say yes! 11 PM tonight, don’t let me down Manhattan.”

Before she could protest, Tony had signed off with a click. He left her with a surprise there, using that nickname; she couldn’t even remember the last time she had heard it. The origin story for that nickname was a long one, but it had essentially started when she accidentally fixed him a Manhattan instead of an Old Fashioned (but really, what was the difference?). As much as she had been annoyed with Tony for using it back then, she had secretly grown fond of it over the years. Hearing it now struck a nostalgic chord in her that made his offer a bit more tempting.

Shutting her laptop, she let it flop down on the couch next to her. She let out a small sigh, surveying her cold, empty apartment. Dishes piled up in the sink. A small pile of laundry she’s avoided folding for weeks. When was the last time she had dressed up for anything, let alone for a fancy party? Massaging her neck, she let out a low groan, feeling a dull ache throb in her shoulders as she dragged herself sluggishly to the shower. Maybe she did need a few hours to destress.

One night couldn’t hurt, right?

5:31 am, Today

Fuck, everything hurt.

Her head pounded behind her eyes, blinding light shining through the windows.

What time was it?

Ugh, whatever it was, it was way too early. Draping a heavy arm over her eyes, she desperately trying to shield the light from her eyes. Why was it so damn bright? Her tiny apartment barely got any natural sun.

She rolled over to the edge of the bed, squinting up to realize that her alarm clock wasn’t on her bedside table. Instead, it was replaced by a greek-looking marble statue and a plant instead. She didn’t own any fucking plants. Frowning, she smoothed down the front of her sheets, feeling the luxurious satin glide against her palm and realized she wasn’t in her bed. This wasn’t her room. Last night, she had left Tony’s party early with… fuck.

Her stomach gave a sudden jolt as she frantically turned to the space to her left. She let out a sigh of relief, finding it empty. She ran a slow finger over the neatly folded corners, not a single fold out of line, before she sat up in the bed, clutching the expensive sheet to her chest as she took in the unfamiliar room of the Avenger’s compound. She’s made some questionable decisions in the past, but this beat everything else by a mile. She dragged her hands down her face exasperatedly, letting out an internal groan. She was used to handling shitty situations: wrecked buildings, stranded helicarriers, and alien hostages.

But how on earth was she going to handle this?

She thought about leaving a note, but the idea of trying to find a pen and paper in this gigantic space intensified her headache. Maybe a voicemail but… she didn’t have his number. Great. Where was her damn phone anyway?

Another jolt of panic ran through her before she remembered that it was probably in her purse… which was somewhere downstairs. She hadn’t managed to keep track of it after, well, how quickly shit escalated last night.

Snatching up her dress from off of the floor, she hastily pulling it over her head and stumbled out of the wooden slide door. It revealed a long hallway, mostly empty save for a few giant, expensive-looking paintings. She clambered down the nearest staircase she could find, her heels sliding against the sleek glass and scraping the back of her feet.

The second floor of the Avenger’s Compound was a huge, not to mention bright, open lounge, equipped with a bar, pool table, a meeting room, and probably a million other facilities that she couldn’t afford to stay and gawk at right now.

Spotting the steps leading down to the first floor, her only way out of this mess, she started to scramble toward it.

“Going somewhere?”

A smug voice called from the kitchen countertop. She jumped, sleep suddenly cleared from her eyes, swiveling around to see Tony slumped over the countertop, cradling a glass of water in one hand and an aspirin in the other. What was he doing at the compound so early? She felt a flicker of pity at his bed head and dark circles, but then again she would’ve given anything to be getting over a hangover instead of being in her shoes right now.

On his smug, exhausted face was a shit-eating grin, stretching the dark lines beneath his eyes, eyes that told her that he remembered everything from last night. That he remembered… shit.

She let out a small gasp.

“Tony,” She jabbed an accusatory finger in his direction. “You cannot tell anybody.”

His grin widening, he shrugged, feigning innocence. “Tell what?”

Oh, he’s gonna play that game? With a hangover?

She groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “Where is he?” She asked quietly into her palm, praying that Tony would give her a straight answer.

“Who, loverboy? He wasn’t in bed with you?”

She jerked her hands away from her face in disbelief, raising her voice “Tony-”

“Relax, relax,” he chuckled, clearly enjoying her torment. “He’s probably out running his daily fucking marathon or something. Should be back soon.” A pause, before he added with a devilish smile.

“Guess you didn’t tire him out enough last night.”

“Tony, I swear to god.” She rolled her eyes and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Ok. At least God gave her one thing. Seeing as he wasn’t here, if she leaves now she’ll be able to avoid one awkward conversation.

She sighed, running a hand through her no doubt messed hair as she tried to gather her thoughts. “Have you seen my purse?”

Twisting around in his stool, he lazily pointed to the couch, sat in the middle of an appallingly clean living room. Swiveling back around, he winced as if the movement made him dizzy.

Serves him right.

Snatching up her purse from its spot on the expensive leather futon, she made her way to the stairs and down to the first floor, away from what seemed to be the most humiliating moment of her life.

Tony’s mocking voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

“Where you headed?”

Her eyes fluttered closed, questioning why she hadn’t poisoned the man the countless times she had brewed him coffee or freshened his drink.

Taking a breath to compose herself, she turned around slowly, putting on the most neutral expression she could muster.

“I…” She stalled, trying to dig as far down her mental vat of ‘excuses to get out of shit’ as she could.

“I’ve got a client meeting.”

“Really? On a Sunday? Must be some damn important client.”’

Well, shit.

Tony must have sensed her desperation as he tsked, leaning forward on the table.

“Come on, I gotta tell him something, Manhattan”

“I…” She spent another moment trying to come up with a decent enough excuse, fumbling with the clasp on her purse, before giving up altogether, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Just… just make something up for me, ok? I-I gotta go.”

“Go where?”

She whipped around, bug-eyed, stomach dropping through the floor at the man standing at the top of the stairwell. Biceps bulging through a ridiculously tight workout shirt, sweat glistening down his neck as he tilted his head back to take a swig of water, and god, did this man ever take a break?

She realized she had been ogling while he watched her expectantly, so oblivious to her horror.

He swallowed his water, neck flushed pink, before giving her a rather shy smile.

“Hi.”

She barely responded with a curt ‘hello,’ unable to meet his innocent eyes. This has got to be the world’s most pathetic walk of shame, she thought—she’d crawl into the nearest hole if she could.

The unbearable silence between them was suddenly broken by an overdramatic cough from behind her.

“Well, this has been delightful to watch, but this superstar’s got to catch up on his beauty sleep.” Tony slid off languidly off the stool, yawning dramatically as he stretched.

Oh, so now he wants to leave?

Glancing back in their direction, he winked, looking straight at her.

“Gosh, what a night, huh?”

She felt her face burn a deep crimson, and couldn’t even bear to check what hue of red Steve’s face was.

As Tony shuffled upstairs, she heard Steve clear his throat. Out of the corner of her eye, he started to take a hesitant step toward her, glancing down at his feet.

“So… about last night.”

Fuck. 

She’s never going to a Stark party again.

Damage Control Masterlist

#mcu #mcu fic #mcu fandom #captain america #steve rogers #one night stand #fanfiction #romance #eventual smut #eventual fluff #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #smut #angst #hurt/comfort #trauma #steve x reader

[harrywavycurly]

It Was Just One Night apart 6: Seven Up

Masterlist: here

Tag List: @sofaritsalrightt @emma77645 @ietss @1paire2vans @robyn-118 @josephquinnlover0 @hollster88 @mommymilkerfanclub

A/N: You and Eddie finally agree on one thing and that’s the fact cheese fries will make you happy, enjoy the bickering✨

*Eddie is shocked you listened to him while you’re too busy being annoyed about the vending machine*

#one night stand eddie #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson series #eddie munson enemies to lovers #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson slow burn #eddie munson social media au #eddie munson x pregnant!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you fluff #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie x mom!reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson #my little dungeon master baby #stranger things au

[beesinspades]

i like my vashwood ace vash and allo wolfwood flavored because it's the kind of relationship dynamic i want to explore with them in my writing but i am also really fond of demi wolfwood....I don't know it feels right for him. slowly falling for vash and developping that bond with him and eventually he finds himself being attracted to him that way too and because he's never felt like that towards anyone before it's just another way vash shakes up his world

#vashwood #trigun #bee talks #yeah never felt this way because you know. the eye of michael snatched him away from the chance to develop any meaningul connections :) #until vash :) #anyway i could totally see him as ace too #he can be anything and i think that's cool #either way ace or allo I don't see wolfwood as like. massively horny. this man has either a low libido or an average one #i DO think he has one-night stands every now and then though #for various reasons #also he would be such a reverent lover #hhHHH

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

are there any fics where they meet at conventions?

Kama Seusstra by GSJwrites

When erotica author Kurt Hummel follows the hot guy from the book convention party back to his hotel room, he thinks it’s simply a chance to spark his lackluster sex life. But when a scheduling change finds him sharing a speaker’s podium with his one night stand, he discovers that he has hooked up with Blaine Anderson, America’s darling of children’s literature.

Can the writer of a popular erotic serial find love with the author who has made bow ties the literary and fashion trend of children everywhere?

Kama Seusstra follows both their efforts to navigate an unlikely relationship as well as their stories: "Out at Home", an online erotic serial set in the world of professional baseball, and "The Brave Little Bow Tie", a children’s story about a bow tie trying to find his place in the world.

This is a story of sex, love and the hard choices we make to balance happiness and success.

~~~~~

Comic Con(quest) by @kurtswish

Summary:Kurt Hummel is an artist whose dream is to write his own comic book. While sitting in his booth at a comic book convention he finds just what he needs, he just has to find a way to get it. (Featuring Nightbird!Blaine) Warnings: Sex, some talk of Finn’s death

~~~~~

Instinct by authorwithoutanoutlet

When Blaine discovers that there is a Broadway convention on a cruise ship that leaves Miami in three weeks, he knows that his law firm won't approve of him going. He knows it's incredibly short notice; that it's a bad idea. Everyone tells him the smart thing to do would be to wait for the same cruise the following year. And yet, something inside him makes him feel like that ship, leaving in just three weeks, is where he needs to be.

~~~~~

Book Thatby morethanwords

‘They have met, and have represented opposite views at these conferences every year for the past 5 years. This year, due to double booking of rooms, they will have to share a room for 3 nights.’ Rivals to Lovers, Sharing a room/bed. Based on this prompt found on prompt-a-klainefic

Happy Reading! - HKVoyage

#klaine fic #klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #fic finder #anonymous #alternate meeting #convention #conference #writers!klaine #one night stand #hooking up #artist!Kurt #nightbird #lawyer!Blaine #writer!Kurt #soulmates!klaine #only one bed #forced proximity #enemies to lovers #bed sharing