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cocoreallylovesraiden · 3 months

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MK1 characters and sick! reader

(johnny cage, bi-han, smoke +liu kang & shang tsung)

not proof read not thought out not nothing i am SICK and this is my OUTLET (again this is not serious, just goofy stuff)

Johnny Cage

- sick equivalent of “it’s not uterus it’s uterUS”

- Especially if he doesn’t have much going on in his schedule? It’s like there’s two sick people in the house

- He has ZERO issues laying in bed all day with you- until he decides on a group excursion to the living room couch where you will… continue to lay there! Exciting.

- Depending on how sick you are he’d be more serious, if it was just a little cold and nothing to worry about, expect to have some movies in the back while you doze in and out of his incessant chatting

- (I personally think he can’t cook well) so your favourite takeout is ordered and put into one of those fancy ass bowls to make it look like a home cooked meal. Bless him.

- Wearing matching ugly pjs like the worlds bleakest slumber party

- Says he doesn’t care about getting sick from being close to you, but makes jokes about your ‘heebies’ getting all over him if you ask for any physical contact (he will over enthusiastically oblige)

- If you’re seriously ill, he would be at a loss, especially when his usual demeanour can’t seem to cheer you up.

- Since i imagine his relationship with his parents isn’t the best, he’d probably call one of your family members to ask how to best care of you, and take it from there

- He wouldn’t treat you like a glass vase though, still cracking jokes while he attends to your needs; but in a way where you can tell he’s trying to mask how vulnerable he feels in his care for you.

- Calls you his sicky wicky honey boo boo sugar tits pumpkin pie

- Definitely gets the man flu once you recover no question about it

- As you lay in bed, sweating from your fever with this huge piece of man meat hugging up on you, all you can hear in the back of your head is “BAAAAYBBUHHHHH…. IT HUUURTTSS…” (congratulations! You can see into the future!)

- Also would call his assistant to ask for help. What are they going to know? They just do his accounting!

Bi Han

- You are sick? Have fun not being allowed to do ANYTHING. No chores, no training, no oily food, no Netflix- NO NETFLIX?

- He claims that extended screen time will only agitate your condition.

- He takes it upon himself to care for you; making easy to digest food, offering to help you shower when you feel physically weak, buying all sorts of medicines, etc.

- it would be easier to send someone to do some of these tasks (aside from the showering.) but no. Out of the kindness of his heart? Yes, of course. He loves you dearly. But also because he does not trust anyone to be as competent as he is.

- As the grandmaster gives you several containers of traditional Chinese medicine, you can only wonder if some pharmacist is sponsoring him. If you dare complain they taste horrible, he will GLADLY take a pill or a bit of powder just to show you were being a wuss

- Nags you for not being careful, and at first it’s annoying but you figure out eventually it’s because he’s worried and this is how he shows his love and concern

- During the day he has to be off at work, and as the hours pass those around him see his shoulders tense higher and higher. You’ve eaten lunch, right? You’ve taken your medicine?

- But don’t worry! Once you show the SLIGHTEST signs of recovery, it’s back to the grind.

- You can sniffle and puppy eyes him all you want, but once he deems you fit for daily life, we are back for business! No more Mr Marginally Nicer Bi Han!

- That being said, once you’re back to smiling and laughing, he will admit that it’s nice to see you back to your usual self.

Smoke

- feels horrible that you’re sick, but secretly proud of his immune system for staying strong; now he has an excuse to show off his hospitality skills!

- sort of like bi-han, expect instead of professional fussing you get excited pampering, gets to the point where you have to ask whether or not he should be at work instead of here

- “Work? Taking care of you is my work!”

- Uses this as a chance to freshen up memory on his hometown; making foods, remedies and tricks he remembers his mother doing for him as a sick child.

- If you ask him more about it, he will gladly go into detail- telling wonderful stories even if he occasionally gets emotional through them

- Cleans your face with a damp cloth and uses it as an excuse to get all close with you- again! He has a strong immune system, so nothing to worry about.

- While he’s off at work, he leaves you notes around the house to remind you that he’s thinking of you and hopes you feel better soon- if you collect all the notes, he becomes embarrassed and acts like he doesn’t know who wrote them

- Comes home and snuggles with you, mentioning even if you did have a fever, it was nice because outside was so cold and you were so warm.

- A little tone deaf, but he’s… got the spirit?

- Secretly upset once you get better because you’re less accommodating to his needy/ clingy behaviour, but it’s also great that you can communicate with words and not pained groans!

- You are WAITING for the day he gets sick. There’s no way you’ve gotten the flu 4 times, and he hasn’t. He sleeps in the same bed as you when you’re sick! Kisses you!

- How did they raise kids to be so strong where he’s from?

BONUS

Liu Kang

- you don’t get sick.

- flu season? he makes you take traditional medicine to prevent it.

- cold? you’re funny. around him? Liu “Set Off Fire Alarms With His Flaming Biceps” Kang? Haha.

- food poisoning? he Knows if the food is off, and won’t let you get the chance to eat it.

- Papa is going to make sure influenza season hits a new low this year

- Seriously, medical insurance companies are terrified of him.

Shang Tsung

- very creepily offers you an elixir and asks you to drink it.

- (Here is the part where I say: but you know he won’t hurt you, so you take it. But, you don’t know. He’s looking at you reeeaaalll funny)

- Notices your glare and takes a moment to re-do his sales pitch, this time a lot less devil-binding-contract and more… human…like?

- turns out, the elixir was just a failed experiment on shape-shifting. he sheepishly offers practical medicine while you roll your eyes.

Kung Lao

- is also sick.

- You both are idiots.

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murdrdocs · 2 months

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she’s driving me crazy

description. STILES STILINSKI finally gets another chance with you, and he won’t take it for granted

includes. SMUT 18+, riding, car sex, fem!reader, protective p n v, lots of making out, loser!stiles, awkward stiles, bi!stiles, exes getting back together, slightly manipulative reader, reader has easily malleable hair, reader wears makeup, drinking (but no drunk intercourse), bickering, scott guest appearance

wc. 6k+

a/n: long awaited stiles fic. bestie boo this one's for u. title from confidence by ocean alley. art credits unknown.

Stiles knows he fucked up.

He had you, after almost a full year of tortuous pining, and he let you slip through his hands. All of it, your relationship with Stiles, really didn’t last more than two months. Two months where date nights were rain checked and eventually canceled. Sleepovers were lackluster, and nothing more than a movie playing in the back while Stiles worked over something that wouldn’t rest in his brain, leaving you alone in the center of his unmade bed. Promises were made, and never kept. It was a mess, a horrible, murky mess of Stiles’ own creation.

He knows this. But he still allows himself to mourn what could have been. He grieves what was. All while nursing a warm beer that doesn’t sit well in his stomach, mostly because of the sight he has been doomed to acknowledge—also his own doing as he could definitely turn his gaze elsewhere.

You’re tucked under the arm of some guy who looks nothing like Stiles, and he doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or worse. Is that your dream guy? Or are you forcing yourself to branch out and try something that wasn’t him? He tries to resist the spiral that sends him on, and is only able to start crawling out of the self-deprecating and insecurity tunnel through Scott’s voice beside him.

“What’re you staring at?”

Scott reeks of alcohol and fruit-flavored syrup. If he wasn’t a werewolf, Stiles knows his best friend would be unable to stand straight by now. But Scott stands like his usual self next to Stiles, a big grin on his face probably from the attention he’s been getting from Kira. (It was sickening for Stiles to watch but he forced himself to be happy for the strong relationship his best friend has.)

Stiles’ immediate instinct is to lie. “Nothing.” He says it a little too fast. He tries to cover his slip up by taking a sip of his beer, but the flavor is unappealing to the point where the face of disgust he presents makes him look more guilty than he really is.

Scott stares at Stiles, waiting. Stiles knows he won’t lie to Scott, not about something this small anyway, and it is only a matter of a few seconds before Stiles sighs.

“Look,” he points at you and your suitor. “Don’t you think he’s making her uncomfortable? Look at that. He’s all over her. Probably reeks of Axe body spray.”

It’s then that the guy cracks another joke, your head throwing back in laughter just before you rest your ear against his chest. It’s so affectionate. As if you’ve known this guy for years, and not just mere minutes.

Stiles flicks his eyes over to Scott, expecting to see his best friend analyzing the situation with at least a small amount of attention that Stiles is. Instead, Scott is looking over at Stiles, wearing what Stiles can only describe as a knowing smirk on his lips.

Stiles steps back, a little bewildered. “What?”

Scott, annoyingly, shrugs. He sips his drink, one he has solely for taste as Stiles knows, and only responds once he’s taken a long, slow swallow.

“She seems fine to me. I thought you guys were broken up anyway.”

“We are!”

“Then why do you care so much?”

Stiles can’t help but petulantly roll his eyes. He turns to face you and your human shaped bag of bricks once again, gesturing for Scott to do the same. His mouth opens, lips parted and tongue ready to spew out the analytics he’d been gathering this entire time in lieu of an excuse.

Then Scott interrupts.

“Do you want me to see what’s going on?” Scott throws a finger up towards his ear, one eyebrow lifted as he waits for Stiles to gather the implications and then make a decision.

It takes Stiles longer to complete the latter than the former.

He waits, thinks, looks at you and the guy. And then remembers the strict ‘no listening’ rule you all have set in place, the one he most definitely won’t betray in the name of jealousy, even if you aren’t particularly aware of all of the intricacies.

When he sighs, it’s defeated and with his entire body. He knows he’s pouting, he assumes he resembles his teenage self—mopey and brooding. He doesn’t mean to speak through gritted teeth, but he ends up doing it anyway.

“No. She’s probably … fine. I guess.” It hurts to admit, deep in Stiles' jealousy-filled gut. Scott’s way of comforting him is by clapping a hand on his shoulder, and telling him that you’re a grown adult who is allowed to make her own decisions, the same as him.

Scott’s intentions aren’t understood until he points at someone in the opposite direction of you. A guy who, from the looks of it, has been eyeing Stiles for a while. He’s Stiles’ type. Exactly his type, actually, and Scott knows this.

“Instead of sulking around …” Scott doesn’t need to finish his sentence in order for Stiles to understand. He only lingers for a few seconds, and then is pulled back towards the larger group by Kira’s eyes and grin.

The guy on the other side of the bar is still watching Stiles. He’s smiling a small but confident smile, like he knows Stiles wants him as much as he wants Stiles. He tilts his head in a beckon, and Stiles is close to letting the guy pull him over there. Until he sees you step away from the man, smile dismissively up to him, and start towards Stiles instead.

Instantly, it’s like a flip has been switched.

He starts to feel the effects of the alcohol, even though he’d been nursing the same bottle the entire night. Still, he chooses to attribute the buzz flowing throughout his body to the overpriced beer and not excitement of finally having your attention.

He watches your path, trying not to feel too disappointed as he takes notice of the way you’re struggling to walk in a straight line.

You fall into his arms in a fit of giggles. Your head resting on his chest, your hands circling around his back.

“Stiles,” you sing, long and drawn out and definitely drunk.

He repeats your name in the same tune, placing his drink onto a tabletop next to him and abandoning it for good. Keeping you away from self destruction is his new main priority.

You slump against him even more, turning yourself around and leaning back against his body. Your position leaves Stiles with nothing else to do other than stand stiffly. He knows that if you were sober, you wouldn’t be nearly as affectionate as you are now. He ignores the way your ass brushes against his crotch. He ignores the smell of your perfume wafting up to him, a scent he had the privilege of seeing you apply a few times before when you were dating. (The image of you getting ready for the day, lathering yourself in the oils and lotions and scents that worked to create your unique scent will never leave his brain, for better or for worse.)

He does his best to remain unaffected, but then you tilt your head up, the crown of your hair rubbing against Stiles’ shirt as you look at him. As soon as he glances down, he sees you pouting, clearly over exaggerated but it’s a look he, pathetically, will never be able to resist.

“Why won’t you touch me?” You manage to sound pitiful, as if you had lost every single thing you hold dear to your heart in the last couple of minutes.

In his response, he tries to remain neutral. Drunk or not, you know the game you’re playing, and Stiles foolishly believes that his knowledge of the ploy makes him insusceptible.

“Because you’re drunk,” he platonically rests his hands on your shoulders and encourages you off of him. “And we aren’t together anymore.”

You turn around to face him, grinning up at him like the cat with the canary as you tell him, “it didn’t stop us last time, right?”

That, and the way you almost throw yourself at some guy walking past, is enough reason for Stiles to link his hand in yours and pull you towards the others. Scott stares down at your interlinked palms for only a moment before Stiles explains his plan, which entails getting you back to your apartment before you do something you could regret.

This isn’t an excuse for Stiles to continue hanging out with you. He makes sure he clarifies that to himself and his best friend before he’s pulling you out of the bar and towards his Jeep.

You’re both less than ten steps away from the entrance to the bar when you suddenly have your lips pressed to Stiles’.

There is a moment where Stiles fails to resist. Where he reciprocates quicker than his brain can realize, acting on pure instinct and muscle memory instead of logic. He is unable to stop himself from getting comfortable, from linking this kiss to the last one he’d received from you. Hotter and messier than this one. (Lost in his appreciation to finally be kissing you again, Stiles fails to notice how you don’t taste like alcohol at all)

Only a few more seconds pass before Stiles reminds himself that you’re drunk, and that this is wrong. When he pulls away from your lips—regretfully, that is—he’s tempted into staying by the slight stickiness of your lipgloss and the almost-disgusting string of saliva that briefly keeps you two sewn together.

You try to lean back in, but Stiles stops you with his hands on your shoulders.

“You’re drunk,” he reminds you.

You’re fixing him with a look, one that feels strong and weirdly sober. His suspicions have more proof to back them up when you say his name with the same matter-of-fact tone he had just used on you.

“I’m not drunk.”

He scrunches his eyebrows together, the muscles in his face mimicking the movement as well. His lips part as he nonverbally exclaims his confusion. He lifts one of his hands from your shoulder to hook his thumb towards the bar entrance. He looks around, for nothing or no one in particular, but as if the night will have an explanation that you would surely be willing to provide if he asks.

He didn’t even need to ask before you provide an explanation. It’s cut and dry, matter-of-fact, spoken like it is the most casual thing in the world.

“I faked being drunk so you could take me home.”

Stiles knows what you mean. He’s not dumb. But he surely does feel it when he says, “If you didn’t feel well you could’ve just told Lydia. She would’ve taken you back to yours.”

You roll your eyes. “If you don’t wanna sleep with me, that’s fine. Just let me know before I waste my time.”

Stiles should stand up for himself. He should reprimand your attitude, and exclaim how unnecessary it was. Instead, he flounders and almost falls to your feet with the speed he clarifies himself.

“No. I do wanna sleep with you. Like, really bad. But … um … well,” you lift your eyebrows and Stiles clears his throat. “How many fingers am I holding up.”

“Jesus, fuck, Stiles.” He continues holding up his first three fingers on his right hand until you answer. “Three.”

You lean in but Stiles takes a step back. And then another. And then another, until he’s standing against the wall of the bar and you’re standing at the edge of the sidewalk.

“Walk in a straight line towards me.”

You don’t seem happy about it, but you place one foot in front of the other over and over again until you’re in front of Stiles. Nothing more has to be said before Stiles places his hands on your hips, pulls you flush to him, and finally allows himself to kiss you.

It’s been a while since Stiles had the privilege of kissing you. The last time, just a month ago, didn’t count in his mind. Sure, he remembered nearly every detail, but your shared inebriated state at the time overruled any legitimacy the encounter could have held. Now, it only acts as a reminder and motivator for Stiles to enjoy every moment of this that he can.

Eventually, it would be smart, and preferable, to leave the outside of the bar and actually take you home where you two could be alone. But for now, Stiles presses his hands into the middle of your back as a way to pull you as close to him as possible. He has his legs spread, creating space for your limbs to stagger. Your hands rest on his shoulders, then at the back of his neck, then in his hair. Both of you are attempting to get as close to the other as possible, all while engaging in the sloppiest kiss you’ve ever had. You both kissed cleaner when you were drunk.

Now, outside this bar with your closest friends inside, and with nothing but the night (and the bouncer) as witness, you submit to the other. There is a level of appreciation in the way your lips slide together. There is a level of gratitude in the presses of your tongues against each other. There is an exorbitant amount of longing that is solved each time you jerk your hips into Stiles and each time he reciprocates.

You thread your hands through Stiles’ hair the same time that he slides his hands down to your ass and squeezes, pulling you as close to him as possible and rubbing his thigh against the center seam of your jeans. You both groan into each other's mouths—Stiles from the way you tug just right on his hair, and you from the feeling of his leg between yours.

Sensing—knowing that he did something right, something good, Stiles does it again. And again. And again. The steady slide of his thigh between your legs does the job. You let your head fall, leaning the top of it against Stiles’ chest just right under his sternum.

The sound of you moaning Stiles’ name goes straight to his dick, with a few remnants traveling to his head, leaving him dizzy and with a steady growing semi. His actions make you grip his hair stronger. His actions indirectly cause pleasure for him, too.

It all disappears when the sound of spitting—loud and boisterous, almost cartoonish—breaks up the moment. Stiles stops his movements. He lays his hands flat on the back pockets of your jeans as he turns his head to the side.

The eyes of the bouncer meet Stiles and Stiles’ ears burn.

While the bouncer doesn’t say anything to him, Stiles knows the message he’s trying to communicate.

Get the fuck out of here.

Stiles is forced to push you back by hooking his fingers in your belt loops. He’s still touching you, at least an extension of you, but then your hands drop to your sides and Stiles can feel his body crying out for you. The same way his body calls out for vital needs—food, water, sleep, entertainment. He squashes his emotions for a second, plasters on a—truthfully sympathetic—face, one that comes off more as a tight lipped smile than anything else.

“Sorry, man. You — uh. You have a goodnight.” He throws a hand up to the bouncer, hoping it is received as friendly. When the bouncer returns the gesture, still with that same look in his eyes, Stiles heads down the street and pulls you with him.

The walk to the car is tortuous. His boner keeps rubbing against his jeans, leaving him to stop every few paces, face away from the street, and try to adjust himself. After the third time, you were voicing your frustration, claiming that it was taking forever to reach the car because of Stiles’ worry about who could see his erection. He tries things your way, ignoring the way his dick calls for his attention and instead focusing all of his attention on you.

The way your hips sway in your tight jeans. The way the wind blows your perfume to him and lifts the edge of your shirt in one, giving Stiles a peek of your skin. It’s such a small look, nothing more than a glimpse, and Stiles feels like a Victorian man the way he’s having to bite his fist at the next crosswalk to avoid groaning. The street lights illuminate your face in just the right ways, highlighting your makeup in an unnaturally ethereal way. Everything about you is driving Stiles crazy. There’s no way he’s going to make it to your house. If he doesn’t get to his car soon, he might pull you into the next bar bathroom that he could find just for a semblance of privacy.

If he could just get to his Jeep.

It’s then that Stiles realizes he’s been walking for far too long. He stops in the center of the sidewalk. You stop right beside him.

Stiles doesn’t say anything as he turns around and leads you three blocks down the street, one street over, and then into the parking garage elevator.

The way you’re grinning at him alerts Stiles of the words soon to come out of your mouth, definitely words that would be at his expense. He stops you while you’re ahead.

It’s nice to have the position switched. Your back against the wall instead of his. His hands are still on your hips, but he uses them to push you into the metal instead of pulling you into him. You have that part covered, your arms once more thrown over his shoulders, pressed into the back of his neck and head, drawing him in until the pressure of his lips against yours is a little painful.

In the rush neither of you have pushed the button, leaving the elevator stagnant on the ground floor. Stiles notices at the same time that you scratch his scalp. He moans, he really can’t help it. His mouth opens as you purse your lips again, and he feels a little bad but you aren’t deterred. In fact, you do it again, your nails scratching in just the right spot and Stiles feels like an animal the way he shudders and keens.

He’s more human when he admits, “Missed this.” He presses his lips to yours again, pulling back with a smack. “Missed you.”

Your lips slide against his with what Stiles can only describe as desperation. Pure, unadulterated desperation and desire. You’re breathing a little heavy, deep exhales through your nose and inhales in the in between moments, and it doesn’t turn Stiles off at all. He wants more of you. He takes more of you.

He doesn’t know how long you two are in there, but it is eventually you who pulls back first, your lips visibly swollen and lacking any of the makeup that was previously on it.

“Has the elevator been moving at all?” You could check for yourself. Just one look over Stiles’ shoulder and you could see that the small screen still displayed a digital ‘1’. Yet, you’re looking up at him instead. Like Stiles is the most important thing in the elevator. Like he’s the most important thing in the world to you. (Maybe it’s Stiles’ delusion talking, but he chooses to believe it either way)

Still, Stiles looks over his shoulder, confirms that he hadn’t hit the button at all, and leans back to correct his mistakes.

The elevator beeps twice, bringing you both to the third floor, and as much as Stiles’ wants to continue standing there and just admire you, he can hear the door daring to slide close. Again, he pulls you out behind him.

As soon as he turns the corner, Stiles is immediately made aware of the lack of other cars on the level. It’s a little eerie, and if he wasn’t about to get his dick wet he would possibly be on the lookout for potential threats that could turn one of the best moments of his life into another inconvenience.

Your hands are on his shoulders, his back, his arms, as you hold onto him.

“Why did you park all alone? Did you plan this? Were you trying to get in my pants all night?”

Stiles digs into the front pocket of his jeans and searches for his keys. “No. There were other people parked here earlier. They’re just all gone now.”

You hum unconvincingly. “Uh-huh. Whatever you say, Stiles.”

As soon as Stiles has the passenger door unlocked, he holds the door open for you and stares, hoping the annoyance is overpowering every other feeling he’s currently having towards you.

“In the back,” he tells you. You smile up at him, big and entertained, and then do as he says.

He climbs in right behind you. At this point in the night, there was no point in attempting to get back to your apartment or his. Stiles couldn’t wait much longer, and you two are no stranger to the back of his Jeep. You’ve been in this situation before.

It’s all completely effortless. You’re already in the process of slipping your jeans off whenever Stiles has the door closed. He mourns for just a second, pouting to himself over not being the one to take those sinful jeans off of you. But then you climb over his lap, situating yourself to hover just a bit above him.

Stiles plants his hands on your hips, just like he did before, and pulls you to sit right over him, just like you have before. He knows that the status of your relationship has changed since the last time he had the privilege of being in this space with you like this, but that doesn’t mean the way you do things has to change, too.

You were never shy before. You would always be quick to attach yourself to Stiles in whatever ways you could, just like you had been doing just a little earlier into the night. But that’s gone now. Now, you’re staring at him, your teeth pressed into your bottom lip.

Before you were together for a short time, Stiles had spent months pining. Months analyzing whatever he could about you. Months mentally cataloging your tells. And now, he calls on that information to declare that you’re hesitant. You’re nervous. No, not just nervous. You’re worried. Almost regretful.

He tilts his head. “What’s wrong?”

You shrug but Stiles knows you’re aware of what has you like this. He just gives you the time to voice it.

Eventually, you say: “Will this change anything between us?”

It’s his turn to shrug. “I dunno. Do you want anything to change?”

You shrug again.

“Well … do you want to keep going? And we decide that afterwards?” Stiles really wants to fuck you, but deep down he knows that if you stopped and got up off of him in this moment, he would be okay with it. Well, he would be okay with it after a few days. Maybe a week or two.

A little part in him swells, jumps, and clicks its heels when you nod.

“Yeah. That sounds good.” You press your lips to his once.

“You just tell me when you decide, okay? I’m cool with whatever you’re cool with.” And Stiles means that. If he gets just one more time with you, if this is his final time with you, he would cut his losses and be grateful for the time that he was allowed. What else was he supposed to do? He would never dream of doing anything that could jeopardize his spot in your life.

Stiles can feel the warmth of your center is his hand when he trails his touch down. He cups your mound and his eyes flutter shut. He feels like a pervert for only a second before you start to work your lips down his neck and rock your hips into his hand. The way your mouth suctions around his favorite spot almost has him distracted enough to not notice your hands working on his pants. Almost.

He can’t really tell in the dark, but he can slightly feel your once confident movements start to falter. You stop on his neck, keeping your lips as nothing but a pucker against his skin before you pull away completely to look down between the two of you.

“When the fuck did you start wearing a belt?”

Stiles doesn’t want to tell you the truth, he feels like it would be too embarrassing. Really, he knows it wouldn’t, but something about having to tell you that he decided to wear a belt because you always said he should makes him feel a little meek. So instead of filling the silence with the truth, he fills the silence with the clinks of his belt buckle as he undos it himself.

“Recently,” is all he tells you when you’re still staring at him for a response. Somehow, it’s enough for you and your hands are back on his waistband.

In record speed, your hands are down the elastic of his boxers and wrapping around Stiles’ cock. He doesn’t hiss, but he does shudder. He tries to hide it by pretending that the car is cold, which it was beforehand, but now it’s warm. It becomes warmer when you spit in your hand, wrap it around Stiles’ cock and pump him a few times, and then push your underwear to the side and hover above him.

It really pains Stiles to stop you, but he does. He asks if you have a condom, then he asks if you want to use a condom, and the entire time he’s kicking himself. Because he can feel the warmth radiating. He has his tip already nudged between your folds, and just this small touch is already making him lose it. His nails are digging into your hips, he’s breathing harder than he was before, and he has to blink a few times to really focus on you.

It feels like Stiles blinks and suddenly you’re tearing the foil packet open and slipping the condom over him. He watches it go down as best as he can, and the light doesn’t reveal much. Just the bottom of you and the tip of him is visible, the rest Stiles is forced to make out through squints and memorization.

He’s just briefly dejected about the lack of visuals, but then your hands rest on his shoulders and he hears you take a breath and he knows it’s time.

Stiles rests his hands on your side and looks up at you.

You go down slowly. Softly. It allows Stiles to feel each delicious inch as they go by, revealing more and more of the inside of you as time passes. He battles between watching your face and simply basking in it. Eventually, he settles on the former.

Your eyebrows are tightened just enough to show your discomfort. You have your lips parted, long breaths leaving them every so often, usually right before you sink down again. And Stiles has seen you take him before. He knows that you have been able to take him faster than this before. And then he wonders: is this your first time doing this, with anyone, in a while? Have you been as lost without him as he has been without you? Have you even attempted to fill that hole, and was your stunt earlier tonight just that: a stunt?

There isn’t time for him to ponder over his questions like he would have wanted to whenever you bottom out. It’s with a sigh, the back of your thighs meeting the top of his just briefly.

You rest your forehead against his, and you both breathe together. Or, it’s more so you breathing and Stiles matching the pattern.

You lean up, you move your hair out of your face, and you tell him, “Don’t remember it being this hard.”

Slightly cocky, Stiles tilts his head. At first he doesn’t say anything. He smiles, his eyes are heavy when they look you up and down, and then he rubs your back. “Take your time.”

You take the time you need and then you start moving. Up and down. Up and down. Agonizingly slowly at first, and then faster when you get more comfortable.

This is what Stiles has needed. This is what he has been missing in his life. You’re like a drug for him, and one hit seems like enough at the time, but by the time this is all over he knows he’s going to be searching for more. He’ll do anything he has to, so long as it gets him in a spot similar to this again.

He searches for your hand, refusing to look away from the way your body moves atop of him for even a second. You help him out, bringing your hand to his, pressing the fingertips together, leaving Stiles to interlock them. He lifts your hands, looking at them in the white light that enters the foggy window. Somehow, this image is even more captivating. There is a more pornographic way the two of you are connected, one that demands Stiles’ attention. There is something about the innocence of this. He’s doing nothing but holding your hand, and Stiles feels like he might either lose his mind, or cum too quickly.

He might do both. One after the other.

You sink down on him again, a little awkwardly this time, but it does it for you. You hit a spot that makes your mouth widen and your eyes flutter shut. You search for it, and find it miraculously. Your head throws back as you hit that spot over and over again, pleasing yourself on Stiles’ dick. The image is heavenly for him. It’s euphoric.

He lets his eyes wander down your neck, along your clavicle, and your shirt reveals just a bit of your bust but it’s not enough. With his free hand, he pulls the rest of the fabric down, and when he sees that you’re not wearing a bra, he almost cums into the condom then and there. He doesn’t wonder how he hadn’t noticed, he doesn't consider how he hadn’t taken into account the natural shape of your breasts pushing through the fabric, almost reaching out to him. Instead, he leans forward, presses his hand into the curve of your back, and attaches his mouth to the untouched skin.

Your free hand sinks into Stiles’ hair. Your fingers weave through the back of his hair first, and then you make your way up to the front, pushing back his bangs blindly.

Stiles peers up at you from his spot around your nipples. You’re still in ecstasy—your head now level once more, but your mouth still open and your eyes still closed.

He detaches from your nipple to tell you: “Look at me.”

It fuels Stiles’ ego when you do as told quickly.

You’re looking at him on his command yet Stiles feels like he’s the one entranced. Because of your eyes. Fuck, your eyes. Watery, lazy, but your pupils are dilated. Your mascara has transferred to under your eyes by now, and it’s smudged a bit, making you look completely fucked out. Stiles thinks some of your makeup along your face has disappeared too, but it allows for a fresh skinned appearance instead.

Really, there is nothing else for him to do except kiss you. It’s so messy but so good. You flatter in your movements on his cock, but Stiles feels absolutely no remorse when he takes over.

He unlocks your hands and plants them both on your hips again. This time, he uses the leverage to pull you down on him again and again. He lets you lead the kiss, while he leads this.

Your hands land on the leather of the seat behind Stiles' back and the foggy glass pane of the window. He hears your fingertips glide down the surface as he starts to fuck you harder, and then the sound is combined with your moans when your lips separate from Stiles’.

You call his name, low and breathy.

He hums.

“‘m so close. Keep going. Just like that.” He nods. Then you add, “Little faster.” And he does as told.

Your forehead pressed against his, the sweat on both of your skin making your heads glide more than anticipated. It doesn’t deter either of you. When your nose bumps against Stiles’, he kisses you again. When your head becomes too heavy for you to hold it up, he presses his thumb under your jaw, rests his fingers on the side of your neck, and holds the weight for you.

“You’re so pretty,” he tells you, adding your name at the end to seal the deal. “Baby,” he says, and his heart swells when you hum in response. So he says it again. “Baby, you feel so good. Feel so good, babe.”

He doesn’t know what more he says. He can vaguely recognize his lips forming the words and his own voice in his ears calling you the prettiest girl ever, telling you that he could never get this anywhere else, telling you he never wanted to get this from anywhere else.

“Needed this so bad. I needed you so bad. I’ve missed you.” And just as his words finish, yours begin.

“Stiles, Stiles. Right there. ‘m … I’m…!”

He singles two fingers out, slips them between your thighs, and rubs along your clit until you’re shaking above him and holding onto his wrist between your bodies. He doesn’t know if you’re trying to pull him closer or push him away, but watching you cum is too gorgeous for him to ever dream of making it stop.

So he doesn’t.

Not even when your eyes start to leak and your lips start to plead and you contract around him.

“One more,” he asks. “I just need to see it one more time. Please.”

The sound of him moving in and out of you is loud. He drifts his eyes down to watch it happen, groaning when he just barely sees a broken ring of white glinting in the fluorescents from the parking garage.

It feels a little romantic when you cum and then Stiles follows right after.

The Jeep is warm, the windows are foggy, and there’s an ache in Stiles’ thighs. He knows for every one of his aches, you have three. The condom has been removed, tied, and disposed of in an old paper bag Stiles had sitting on the floor of his car. His pants are pulled back up, but his belt is still undone. His shirt sticks to his skin and he really needs greasy food and a shower.

But if that means leaving this moment, and never returning to it, he could put off his needs and wants for an eternity.

You’re sitting next to him, redressed with the button of your jeans still undone. You’re staring straight ahead, trying to catch your breath as you rub the muscles in your thighs.

Stiles doesn’t know what to say, so he licks his lips and he says, “Uh … do you … um. Would you like some … ice or something? For your legs?”

You smile ahead, turn to face him, and shake your head. “It’ll be fine. Nothing a shower and good sleep won’t fix.” You pause. “And maybe some food.”

Which is how Stiles ends up sitting in your bed, sipping the remnants of his Dr. Pepper as he watches you lather lotion on your legs with your towel still hanging off of your body.

“Your food’s cold,” he tells you. He doesn’t tell you about the handful of fries he stole earlier, but he knows you’ll notice it and hold the grudge for later.

Later. Will there be a ‘later’?

“Be there in a second.” You start to walk back to the bathroom. “Should we go to that place in the morning? Or …” you look at your clock and wince at the time. “Later. The one with the really good pancakes?”

Stiles is quick to agree. He would love to do something with you later.

#stilesworld!#stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski smut #celeste writes misc

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thatsnotahoodjason · 2 years

Text

bruce allowing a reporter to do an article on him and wayne manor. so he shows the reporter around, and shows them the kids bedrooms.

starting with dick's old room, its fairly messy with a lot of photos of his friends and gym equipment. the reporter makes a joke about how most of the photos are redheads. bruce explains how dick stays here a lot so he leaves a lot of his stuff here but doesn't actually live here anymore.

then they go to jason's room where bruce just pretends to be super sad the whole time. emotional moment. the reporter like, gets down on her knees and does a little prayer for jason and jason is just, hiding in the cupboard trying not to laugh because he forgot he wasn't meant to be here today.

then tim's room. where tim is currently playing video games with cassie, bart, and conner. the reporter makes a comment about the bi flag above his bed and tim just stares at her threateningly in case she was about to say something homphobic, the distraction causes tim to die in the game, kon starts to swear as he was teamed up with tim, making bruce threaten to call his dad (kon: which one?) the room is also an absolute tip, and bruce basically just argues with tim about tidying up.

then to duke's room, which he has only just started moving into so its filled with boxes, but it is very overwhelmingly yellow and a little banner on the door that says "y'all need therapy, not me tho. im totally fine." and the door is covered in bee stickers (courtesy of steph, damian, and tim)

then to damian's room, where he is very casually sitting stiffly on his bed with a sword. the reporter is just. very confused. and damian turns his head and tells bruce to kick tim's friends out the house, and bruce is just like, "you're meant to be in school!?" and damian just utters the word "useless" and just carries on staring at his sword until they leave.

they then go to cass' room which has a little flippable picture of her (one side is her smiling, and the other is her with an angry face- basically just telling ppl if she wants them coming in the room- the sign is on the angry face one) and they enter to find her making out with steph. a lot of awkwardness and panic. steph goes on a rant about privacy and disrespect for wlw couples and calls bruce an "entitled, homophobic, billionaire brat." bruce makes them leave the door partially open and cass just rolls her eyes then shuts it fully when they've left.

later on in the tour, they go to the library and jason is just there reading. so jason does an absolutely terrible english accent and pretends to be alfred's grandson, offering them tea and calling them tossers. the reporter somehow buys it tho and they move on.

in the kitchens is duke, kate, and dick arguing about who's actually been kicked out the kitchen as someone threw away the list of ppl with kitchen bans. so now dick is burning stuff in the oven which kate is trying to salvage and its basically that scene in community and they're just full on panicking.

in the living room is luke helping to fix a wheel on barbara's chair. haley (dog) is scratching the sofa while trying to get into a comfy sleeping spot and a very disturbing horror film is playing on the tv super loudly. while bruce and the reporter are in the room, the main character survives and luke and barbara boo the tv repeatedly.

then when the reporter is leaving, alfred is behind them as they go out the front door, holding onto a cow with damian behind him shouting at him for not letting him have the cow inside.

the reporter is just. so so confused. she never goes back to the manor and doesn't submit the report because who would actually believe this is the bruce wayne's daily life??

#also the reporter seeing tim and damian start fighting each other while both falling down a super large grand staircase #luke and alfred's grandson in one of the bathrooms comparing their muscles (luke wins by far)#duke and cass following bruce and the reporter around. everytime the reporter looks at them they whistle. look away. lean on the wall #dick and babs in the back garden nonstop doing rock paper scissors to see who gives a mud covered haley a bath #the reporter and bruce are in the garden for like 10 minutes and dick and babs are doing it the entire time.#batfamily #dc #bruce wayne #batfam #dick grayson #barbara gordon #tim drake #damian wayne #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #luke fox #jason todd

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restinslices · 4 months

Note

ALRIGHT ENOUGH SWEETNESS. LIN KUEI BOYS FIRST TIME FUCKING THEIR PARTNER 🎤 (please)

Omg y’all, my brain let me write again😃

I don’t feel like looking for gifs and my storage space is in hell so I ain’t got photos. Sorry twin

Bi-Han

I know I start his parts off with “the haters will tell you” a lot

IDC. Imma do it again

The haters will tell you he won't care and he'll do his own speed and yadyadya. No.

He's an asshole but be fr y'all

I'm gonna write this as you're both experienced but it's your first time together. If that's not what you meant then lmk but until then-

You're both experienced but he's still careful

He's the type to pick up speed fast but he's not immediately gonna be aggressive

You're experienced but not with each other so he's gonna actively try to be slower and softer

Very observant towards your needs and adapts quickly

I think he’s observant in general so I think he’d easily notice how you react to certain things

More of an action guy

What I mean is he won’t verbally say a lot. Like you know how some people will ask “does this feel good?”? (That looks ugly as fuck-) He won’t

He won’t because he’s paying attention to how you react and what gets the best reaction. He doesn’t need to say much

He’s not completely silent but I don’t think he says much in general, so the first time would especially be quiet because he’s focusing

Do I think he’s rough during sex? Yes. For the first time though? Probably not. He still feeling shit out

When it comes to making him feel good, he makes sure to let you know. He’d never be the type to lie about nutting. That’s just not him. He’s gonna make sure you do it right

Very handsy

He’s vocal when it comes to grunting and I think he’d go out of his way to make noise in your ear if it was something you enjoyed

Pays attention to both your needs

I could see him wanting to go a couple rounds before stopping

Leaves tons of marks as a reminder of what happened

Now that you’ve started now, don’t be surprised when he wants to do it consistently

Kuai Liang

Mostly pays attention to what you need

I think he’s way more verbal than Bi-Han so he’d actually verbally ask what feels good and what doesn’t

He goes slow

Lots of emphasis on foreplay and trying to set the mood

His lips are everywhere

Like legit, every part of you has felt his lips or tongue

I get it, you may think he’s very fast and intense because fire but no

Fire can also symbolize passion and Kuai Liang is a very passionate lover

Considering it’s the first time, there’s no need to rush

The type to always be pleasing you. Even if you’re talking or making small comments, his fingers are still gonna be working on you

When it comes to fucking he’s not doing it fast but how hard he’s going makes up for it

Will go faster if you ask

Is also leaving marks

Does frequent check ins to make sure everything is ok

He’s a big dude (in the sense he’s swole as fuck) so he’d probably prefer for you to be on top so he won’t crush you

If I said he pulls on hair will I be booed or cheered?

If you’re bald then ignore that

Offers to give head. Doesn’t matter if you’re laying down or sitting on his face. He’s leaving here with smth-

The ratio when it comes to orgasming is off as fuck because he’s the type to pull out and start eating you out

Extra points if it’s after you came

He’s pulling out all the stops. You’re not going anywhere after this

Doesn’t particularly care how many rounds you go for

Main focus is on how many times you cum. There’s some people that try to be sweet and “I didn’t cum but if you’re tired then-“ don’t piss him off

You’re either stopping because you’re tired or you’re shaking (or you wanting to stop but that’s not a saucy ending)

Tomas Vrbada

He’s always gonna be a sub to me, idc

He would try so hard to be big man on campus and all strong and shit, but bitch one good tug at the hair and he’s folding

Lets you take the reigns for the first time

Don’t think just because he likes being tossed around a lil, he ain’t gonna say how he feels. No

You can be submissive and still assertive. That’s Tomas

Similar to Kuai Liang in the sense that he is really focused on what you want and what feels good to you

Already moans a lot and loud as fuck but he’s especially loud once he’s finally inside you

He wants to go slow but life happens. The wind just kinda blows this way and next thing you know he’s fucking you like he’s saying goodbye. It’s the winds fault fr

Is also verbal with what he wants and wants you to be too

You’d think y’all have fucked several times with how comfortable he is when it comes to saying what he’s into. What do you mean “choke me”?

What do you mean you wanna fuck the cum outta someone or vice versa? Let’s take a breather, calm down, gather our thoughts-

Once he’s horny his brain shuts off and the whore comes out. You’d expect it’d be Bi-Han that would become this bold, but no. He’s bold all the time. Tomas gives mfs whiplash.

Like bro we were just eating dinner 20 minutes ago

Like I said, he’s really focused on what you want since it’s your first time. You gotta leave an impression

Is his brain cells shutting off? Yes. Will them bitches turn back on if he notices you don’t like something or you say something feels weird? Yes

He’s attentive

Probably came before you because he’s sensitive but he’s not the type to roll over and be like “welp, guess it’s a wrap”

He wants your brain to be as fuzzy as his and he’s determined to make that shit happen

Idk why I changed my profile to this Fear Street aesthetic when I never write for them but here we are. I wanted to change it and this is where I landed.

#mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #bi han sub zero #bi han #bi han smut #subzero smut #bi han x reader #kuai liang scorpion #kuai liang #kuai liang mk1 #kuai liang smut #scorpion smut #tomas vrbada smut #tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada x reader #smoke smut #mk1 smut

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thisonehere · 4 months

Text

The Lin Kuei boys reacting to you saying you love them during sex

Mk1 Headcanons

C/w: NSFW (BOO, sex!), fluff, afab reader, emotions, smut with feelings, cuddling, trouble with communicating emotions, crying

Bi-Han

Bi-Han has never really been vocal about his feelings, especially towards you. He always viewed them as a weakness. But he is very fond of you... he possibly even lov-nope, he refuses to admit that.

Bi-Han came from a long day of fulfilling duty after duty, running around for Liu Kang, and arguing with his brothers. Now he was getting close to his favourite part of the day: you. Being on top of you to be precise.

He fights off a smile when he opens the door and sees you happily waiting to greet him. As per usual, you eat a meal you prepared, sit down, you talk (well, you're the one that's talking, he's just sitting there and staring at you. He finds your boring day very surprisingly interesting compared to the hectic schedule he has), and now was possibly the best part: the bedroom.

The night was going just like it usually did, you were underneath him, he was on top of you making you go crazy. With every stroke made you feel like you were closer and closer to heaven. You cried his name between breaths, he stayed silent as usual. Replying to you only through grunts and moans. But it was enough, he always was enough.

There have been feelings that have been forming inside you for quite some time, things that were never meant to be formed. This was supposed to just be a casual no-strings-attached fling for him, but to you it was everything. You kept your mouth shut out of fear of being rejected. But at some point, you can't take it anymore, "I love you!" you cry out abruptly.

And with that, Bi-Han suddenly stops his thrusting. He stays frozen there for quite a while, not responding, he just stares at you. "Bi-Han?" He stares at you. "I-" you try to explain, "Turn around and get on your stomach." he interrupts with this sudden demand.

For the rest of that time, Bi-Han has sex with you from behind, he seemingly refuses to look at your face. As you finish, Bi-Han quickly turns his back to you and lies down to go to sleep. Did you do something wrong? Does he not like you anymore? Oh, everything was going so well, why did you have to ruin it? You wonder as you stare at him for a few seconds. With a heavy heart, you lie down as well and go to sleep.

Unbeknownst to you, Bi-Han turns over and looks at your face while you sleep. You love me? He thinks, Me? Why? How long?

When you first told him this, he didn't know what to do so he panicked. Sharing emotions was something he never wanted when starting this relationship. But he couldn't deny that he too started to feel things for you, he felt this way before that too. You made him feel things that he never felt before, things he never wanted to feel.

He is so frustrated. These feelings he has for you make him feel so weak. Yet you seemed so okay with displaying this weakness, why? Why are you so willing to be vulnerable with him? Why did he want to be so vulnerable with you? He so desperately wants to tell you everything he feels, he wants to tell you about his day, talk about his favourite books and movies, just talk to you.

He hesitates before moving closer to you. He stares at your face as if he's trying to find something. Finally, he reaches out to you and pulls you to hold you. He gives you a gentle kiss on the forehead and sighs. "I love you too, Y/n...more than anything..."

Kuai Liang

Unlike Bi-Han, Kuai never for a second hid his feelings for you. He adores you, words can't describe how dear you are to him. Yet he's never been sure where he stood with you. You were attentive and affectionate with him, but he wasn't sure if you felt like he did for you.

It was a long and tiring day, Kuai was relieved to finally be home. He smiled brightly when he saw you waiting for him at the door. He took you into his arms and warmly kissed you. As per usual, he didn't come empty-handed too, he came with a gift for you. Something thoughtful, something he knew you were eyeing for a while. Afterwards, you eat, he tells you about his day, and one thing leads to another and now you are in the bedroom.

Your legs are wrapped around him as you hang on for dear life. Sex with him was a cross between passionate lovemaking and fucking like wild animals. Your mind is numb as all you can process is his warmth and how he embraces you, how good he made you feel. Not just here in this moment, but in multiple other ways. How he doesn't hesitate to give you compliments, the way he listens to you no matter how absurd you feel your conversation is, and how he makes sure that you're okay.

You couldn't deny how much you love him, you cherish everything you have together. You always felt scared about telling Kuai how you felt, Bi-Han was so cold and heartless you feared Kuai would be just the same. But the time you spent with him changed your views a little, maybe you could tell him how you felt after all.

As Kuai continued his assault on your poor body. You felt feelings suddenly erupting inside, things that you tried to suppress. But you are not hiding it anymore, "I love you." you scream without thinking.

Kuai instantly slows down, he looks into your eyes. He smiles as his eyes melt and he stares at you. "I love you too." He says, the smile on his face getting bigger as he looks at you.

When all is finished, the two of you lay there in bed. Kuai still has a huge grin on his face as he holds you close. You telling him this made him feel amazing in ways he couldn't explain. You love me. That was all he could think about. His mind was racing with his possible future with you, the years you'll spend together, your wedding day, and the children he wanted to give you.

He pulls you in closer and tenderly kisses you. "I love you so much, Y/n. Marry me."

Tomas

Tomas is a very shy man when it comes to sharing his feelings with you. He loves you, so much that it hurts. But he can't say anything because of his insecurities. He fears that you don't love him and you are just with him because you pity him. He desperately wants to tell you how he feels, he wants to tell the whole world even. But he just can't.

When Tomas finally gets home, he is emotionally and mentally drained. Not only did he have to deal with important duties, but also with being dragged through the mud by Bi-Han. "You will never be Lin Kuei, Tomas. You will always be the little runt that my father took in out of pity." Tomas had been told this a million times, this wasn't new. And it burned him every time, he grew accustomed to fighting crying or else he would be mocked even more.

It got even worse with the next thing Bi-Han said. "Do you truly think Y/n will ever truly love you? Ha! Tomas, you are naive as you are a bastard." That hurt him on a level he never expected it could. This made him even more insecure, he loves you so much, and the idea of you feeling the same way broke his heart.

As he opens the door and finds you there waiting, he gives you a weak smile. You look down and see that he has brought flowers for you. They were your favourite, carefully gathered together and groomed just the way you like them. After that, you talk for some time, Tomas just sits there and stares at you. You ask what's wrong but he quickly changes the subject. The night goes on and before you know it, you both are naked in the bed.

It's funny, Tomas seems so innocent, like he doesn't know how to have sex nor does he know what it is. But you know for a fact that he fucks like no other, the man is a sex god. The way he was pounding made you feel that you wouldn't be able to walk for weeks. If that was the case, you weren't bothered because you knew that Tomas would be there to take care of you. He was always there for you, that's one of the things you like about him. Coupled with the fact that he is a gentle giant, in touch with his feelings and so easy to talk to.

You never really told Tomas how you felt out of fear that you moving too fast. But the longer you spent with him, the more you knew you were ready to tell him. You just needed to find the right chance. He made you so good that you couldn't wait anymore. "I love you." You say.

Tomas flinches and stops his stroking. His eyes grow wide. "Tomas?" Oh, no... Did you mess up, you think. "I'm sorry, I didn't-" But before you can finish, Tomas take you and kisses you. It is intense, you feel so many emotions and heat coursing through his body. He pulls away for a second, "D-do you mean it?" he asks a little unsure. You nod your head causing him to go back down and passionately kiss you again.

When all is finished Tomas turns his back to you. You didn't think much about this...until you heard a sniffling sound coming from him. Tomas felt overwhelmed by the affirmation of your devotion. He was filled with joy that you feel the same way he does, but at the same time, he still is worried. What if you were just saying that because you were in the heat of the moment? What if you don't feel the same way in the morning? He soon felt a rush of emotion, many good, some bad. It got so intense that he finally gave in and began to cry.

"Tomas, what's wrong?" He turns over to you, a smile on his face despite the tears. He reaches out and pulls you close, "It's nothing. I love you and... you love me. That's all that matters."

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jayflrt · 3 months

Text

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝟕𝟖𝟔 08. boo boo the fool

nsfw content below (minors dni)

WHEN YOU GOT HOME, THE LIGHTNESS IN YOUR CHEST QUICKLY BECAME THICK UNEASINESS.

Your bi-level penthouse was dark when you entered, and you felt more alone than ever. Even your day out with Yuna felt strange; deep down, you didn't exactly forgive her, but you felt obligated to accept her apology once she poured her heart out to you. At this point, you didn't even want to check your texts from Giselle, Karina, or Yeonjun about the Instagram stories she posted. You were just as exasperated that she took them despite her so-called social media break.

Even calling your father felt like a chore. You listened to him ramble on about how you needed to do better and strive for greatness. Fix up your resumé. Reach out if you needed referrals. Do more. Make connections. Work harder. Be the person he wanted you to be.

After you showered and settled in to unwind for the night, you heard a knock at the door—five knocks, actually. The pattern was familiar; it was Sunghoon's signature knock. You and your boyfriend came up with it years ago to use on each other, and the repetition made your heart twist painfully in your chest.

You weren't quite sure if you were ready to see him. Not after the argument you both had.

Still, you crossed your living room to open the door because you were far too weak to ignore him.

When you saw him, flushed cheeks from the cold and fluffy hair falling over his forehead, you felt butterflies flap violently in your stomach.

"Can I come in?" he asked, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his trench coat.

"Of course." You opened the door wider for him. "I thought you said you were busy."

"Never too busy for my girl."

Normally, those words would have made you blush so hotly that you wouldn't be able to hide your shyness from him. This time, however, you felt a pang of disappointment. How come he could say that so easily but went back on his words every single time? Not to mention he wasn't even looking at you as he said it.

"Are you staying over tonight?" you asked, hope swelling in your chest when he took off his coat.

You and Sunghoon hadn't slept together since school started, and it was starting to upset you because you hardly got to see him over the summer, too. He was busy with his internship most of the time, and then when you two went to Bora Bora with Heeseung, you barely had any privacy to start anything with him.

"Can I?" He circled his arms around your waist to pull you closer. His voice dropped to a murmur when he added, "I think I'll be really tired later, so..."

You swallowed thickly. That could only mean one thing, right? You hoped you weren't getting your hopes up over nothing. The scalding knot in your stomach grew tighter when you felt his body press against yours.

"Yeah, I still have your pajamas," you said, "and your toothbrush is still in my bathroom."

After leading him to the couch, your boyfriend gave you a foot massage while you told him about your day. You admitted to feeling lonely, and Sunghoon apologized with a frown, although you weren't feeling hopeful that he would do anything about it.

"Is it school that's stressing you out?" he asked in that ever-so-tender voice that made you melt. "Is it The Order? You don't have to try so hard, you know?"

"They only take fifteen people," you replied. "I can't be sure one of them will be me."

"Better you than anyone else. I thought you said you were getting close to Jennie."

"I am, but"—you sighed—"I just feel like I'm gonna blow the interview. What am I gonna do when they ask what I wanna do with my life?"

Sunghoon gave you an odd look, as if the answer was as clear as day. "Tell them you're taking over Mercy West."

"But what if I don't want to?"

"Why wouldn't you want to?"

Because I'm not you, you thought. Because my aspirations aren't living up to my dad's expectations.

Instead, you settled for saying, "I think I'm just stressed."

"I know it's hard." He was nodding in understanding as he pressed kisses to the top of your head. You were so wrapped up in your own head that you hardly noticed some of the tender pecks. "I almost gave up on trying to be my dad's favorite."

You frowned. "Did Sungjin say something again?"

"He's just being a dick like always, but enough of that. Is everything alright with your parents?"

"They're the same as ever. I see mom, like, four times a year—unless she decides she wants to fly me out somewhere—and then dad's always too busy to be around. At least now I can live alone and go see them whenever they're around."

Then, the strangest words came out of Sunghoon's mouth, and he said them as if he was in some sort of dreamlike trance. "What if we just ran away together?"

"We could," you replied, entertaining the idea. "Buy a house in Iceland. Raise a couple of dogs together. We could start our own business or something."

"What kind of business?" He hummed as he thought. "Ah, we could make friendship bracelets."

You barked out a laugh. "Friendship bracelets? That's a business?"

"Yeah, you used to be really good at making them. I still have the one you gave me."

"You do?"

"It's not on me because I'm scared of losing it, but I've kept it in a box at home. Still fits like a charm."

You smiled at the memory, thinking back to the days of your youth when you stayed up all night making those bracelets for him and Heeseung. You thought you had unlocked some sort of hidden talent back then (especially after Heeseung went on and on about how he had never seen such a well-made bracelet, which you realized later was probably the first friendship bracelet he had seen). You didn't realize back then that you wove Sunghoon's with special feelings in each strand.

Sunghoon then proposed watching one of the cheesy reality shows you were addicted to. His hands were wrapped securely around you, and you settled comfortably in his chest. The both of you laid there well after the show ended and your TV screen turned off.

"I missed you," he murmured into your hair.

"I missed you, too—so much."

He was stroking your cheek gently by now—soothing circles that almost lulled you into a trance. The unsteady breath you drew in was almost pathetic.

"I'm so tired of all the arguments."

"I don't wanna fight with you, I just—"

"I know." His hands moved up to cup your cheeks, supporting your jaw enough to tilt your chin up higher. His gaze ran over the curve of your lips before he inched closer. "Let me just make it up to you, okay?"

You could only nod, dazed, before Sunghoon pressed his lips to yours with fervor.

His fingers were lost in your hair while your hands gripped the front of his shirt. Your lips succumbed as soon as his tongue prodded at your lower lip, begging for more. Sunghoon didn't seem to have the mind to take it slow; he wanted everything you offered—all at once. The way his hands dropped to your hips to grab you and pull you to him made you believe he would've ravaged you if he had less patience.

He was like a storm. You could hardly keep up with him, but you wanted more. With a broken whimper against his lips and your fingers now unbuttoning his shirt, you completely forgot where you even were as he cupped your breasts with little restraint.

Each kiss felt like he was breathing life back into you. You had yearned for him to hold you like this for so long, and your relationship was starting to feel hopeless once all the constant fights were going on. Now, finally, it felt like that spark was back.

"Sit up," he ordered in a low voice, and you had no mind to question him once you felt his bulge pressing against your thigh, "and take off your shorts."

Was this really happening? You almost always got him off first. He always returned the favor afterward, of course, but this was a shocking development.

But you weren't complaining.

You didn't break eye contact with your boyfriend as you sat back on your white couch, shimmying off your satin shorts before you did so and discarding them. Five grand and soft fabric, but you didn't even care if Sunghoon was about to ruin it.

His gaze was hungry. You had to pretend your veins weren't melting at the very look in his eyes, and, oh, how they darkened at the sight of your bare thighs pressed together.

Sunghoon rolled his sleeves up and then unclasped his watch in a single motion—without even looking at it—and tossed it aside without a second thought. It was the watch his father had gotten him for his eighteenth birthday. The forty grand watch his father had gotten him—laying on the ground.

His hands pushed your legs apart, rubbing your thighs up and down before his fingers teased the band of your underwear. He snapped it playfully, causing you to press your lips together tightly. You didn't dare show him a reaction in case he decided to tease you by pulling away.

But he didn't. He was too impatient for that now as he slipped his fingers past the band and tugged your underwear down to your ankles, keeping direct eye contact with you the entire time. You kicked it off your feet and watched as Sunghoon bent his head to kiss up your thighs.

Slow, open-mouthed kisses that left you biting your lip hard enough that you were almost afraid it would bleed.

"Please," you whispered once he reached the apex of your legs.

Sunghoon grinned up at you, all smug and cocky. The sight could've brought you to your knees if you were still standing.

"Anything for you, my pretty girl."

He moved your legs so that they were over his shoulders, and you leaned back so that you could hold onto the head of the couch. He pressed a hot kiss to your cunt, and you shuddered at the feeling of his soft lips.

He pressed a few more lingering, open-mouthed kisses to your pulsing muscle before licking a long stripe along your soaked cunt, humming inquisitively with an almost insufferable, teasing lilt.

You gasped at the contact, arching back against the couch as Sunghoon flattened his tongue against your folds and continued lapping at your arousal. You felt like you were floating elsewhere, unable to come back down to reality.

It was almost painful how turned on you were. You nearly cried out when his tongue ran over your engorged clit—sore and throbbing from how badly you needed him.

Your soft, broken moans must have roused Sunghoon to push your hips down and start eating you out with sudden vigor. You felt sweat start to bead at the bridge of your nose, leaving a sheen across your flushed skin.

With the position you were in, you struggled to grind your hips against his tongue for more. You needed more. The pleasure was almost overwhelming, but you couldn't stop yourself from chasing your high.

"How good am I making you feel?" he asked in that silky, velvety voice of his.

"S-so good," you managed to get out through teary eyes. "I can't, Hoon, I—"

He shushed you with his lips still pressed against your cunt. His very breath traveled all the way up your spine, up to your already foggy brain and making it all the more cloudy and dazed.

"Cum for me, pretty girl," he murmured, and he plunged his tongue inside you with no mercy.

You felt like you had burst into flames seconds later. The pleasure racked your body in waves, nearly causing you to double over on the arm of your couch. You gripped the fabric tighter until you suspected you had plucked some loose strings right out.

You had no idea you were crying out in pleasure until Sunghoon was shushing you gently, moving back up right after your orgasm to hold you in his arms and kiss you with utmost passion. You were practically clawing at him, begging him to help you ride out your orgasm, but he wasn't listening.

You pouted, whining, "But I want more."

"Baby, it's late," he said, stroking your hair after he pushed the loose strands out of your face. "I promise we'll have all the time in the world to ourselves soon."

Although you were slightly disappointed, you nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him hold you tight to his body. He knew that you liked to be a little clingy after intimacy, so even though you were upset that you couldn't pleasure him in return, you still wanted to be close to your boyfriend.

You let Sunghoon carry you to bed. He was always so gentle in how he laid you down properly in your queen-sized bed and tucked you in. Even though your eyelids felt heavy, you waited for him to change into the spare clothes he left at your place ages ago, and then crawl in next to you once he was ready.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then the palm of your hand.

Sunghoon stroked your side gently, circling his thumb against your skin as he asked you, "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," you replied too quickly, still clouded by love and the afterglow of your orgasm.

"Why are you still friends with Yuna?" His gaze was intense for a moment before softening again. "I don't think she's... good for you."

Soon after, hot acid roiled in your gut. The chill that ran down your spine felt like nails against a chalkboard.

Everything came crashing down.

"She's just gonna keep hurting you," he continued, carding his fingers through your hair. When all you could do was stare at him, Sunghoon took that as his cue to settle back into bed and nestle his chin into the crook of your neck. "Just think about it, okay?"

"Wait—is that why you came over?" you asked, hardly audible, and you weren't exactly sure if Sunghoon even caught your words.

"Huh?" He rubbed his eyes, his voice muffled with sleep. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you down by his side. "Let's just go to bed, baby. We can talk tomorrow."

Stiff and unwilling, your body hardly relaxed in his hold. You complied all the same, though, because your shock was so immense that no words came to mind. All you could do was close your eyes and will your tears away before your boyfriend noticed that you were crying.

Hysteria rose in your throat, but before the hilarity and absolute despair of the situation was about to overtake you, odd numbness filled your body instead.

You were questioning everything—questioning your feelings for Sunghoon, questioning his feelings for you.

And maybe those weren't butterflies in your stomach, after all. Maybe they were moths, fluttering erratically in the direction of a light that would only burn them.

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SUMMARY ▸ private investigator jay park just wants to complete his mission quietly and move on with his life. you, his new assignment who keeps consuming his thoughts, don't make that very easy for him.

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