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highvern · 1 month

Text

Between the Titles

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, smut (mature/18+)

warnings: egregious caffeine consumption, yoongi smokes cigarettes, reader is about the same height as yoongi (its me hello im almost the same height as him), gay taehyung, volunteer jungkook, silver fox yoongi (he just has some gray hair bc hot) smut warnings: making out, grinding, fingering, oral (f. receiving), semi-public sexual acts, bathroom sex, protected sex, praise kink

Length: ~9.5k

Note: no thoughts, just big brain yoongi in a sweater smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. btw almost all the books in this are real but i haven't read them so if you have lmk if they're worth the read lmao. thank u to my dearest @gyuswhore and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing this

Summary: Five days a week in the library means you're very familiar with the senior research librarian. It also means he has no qualms about making his own book recommendations either.

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This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

The sweet aroma of old books and strong coffee infiltrates your nose as the heavy doors into the library swing open, offering reprieve from the storm raging on outside. It’s far too early for anyone to be here beyond staff and a few other morning birds. You glide right to the circulation desk as if fatigue doesn’t pulse through your veins, barely quelled by the second cup of coffee you sip from.

As always, the same familiar head of dark hair with sparse silver streaks waits at the circulation desk. He’s the only person working this early despite being the senior research librarian but you never hear any complaints louder than muttered annoyance under his breath when he thinks no one is around to hear. Bent over his laptop, Yoongi doesn’t even bother to look up as he slides a heavy stack of books to the edge of the counter.

Eleven total, ten heavy volumes on ancient fertility cults across the globe, and one book you know he’s mixed in for his own amusement.

It’s become something of a game between you two. At first you thought he was mixing your materials with someone else’s, but every time you brought the additional copy back to his desk, Yoongi insisted he had no idea what you were talking about and questioned your reading choices. Each time the titles got more ridiculous: Castration: The Advantages and the Disadvantages, How to Enjoy Your Weeds, Amish Vampires in Space, the list goes on and on. But after he slipped Why Fish Don’t Exist into your stack a few weeks ago, you decided to start responding.

You left the stack at his desk like usual, ears perked for his reaction to Fishes I Have Known. An amused snort rang out just as you opened the doors to leave for the afternoon. The sound was so unlike the stoic man you’d become accustomed to over months working on your thesis; not that you heard him talk much to begin with.

Since then you’ve made a point to match every book he leaves for you. Yesterday, Yoongi chose I Could Pee on This: and Other Poems by Cats. At the end of the day, you spent thirty minutes searching shelf after shelf for an appropriate response, every book failing to meet your expectations. It wasn’t fair he knew the expansive collection like the back of his hand but nevertheless you found something up to par.

Yoongi rolled his eyes when you passed your books over the counter, a copy of Staying Dry: A Practical Guide to Bladder Control, like a shining star on top. A brief pink of his tongue flashed across his lips, a feeble attempt to muffle an amused smile. It was the most obvious reaction since the first time you responded.

Smiling like the cat who ate the canary, you left on clouds last night.

But this morning you have notes to write.

Snagging the collection, you make your way deeper into the building. Your unassigned-assigned desk tucked away on the fifth floor, far enough away from any noise so you can fully immerse in work without the threat of distraction. An uninterrupted view of the courtyard below is an added bonus.

The wooden table top is covered in a neat collection of pens and sticky notes in minutes; your laptop and the foot tall collection of references you devour over the next eight hours taking up the other half.

A few titles you request over and over sit on top, too valuable to be checked out for long term use so you settle for keeping them in constant rotation since no one else bothers to read the dusty yellowing tombs. For now, you focus on the new pieces you hope hold the information you need.

Earth rites: fertility practices in pre-industrial Britain, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in the Ancient Mediterranean, Metamorphosis of Baubo: myths of woman's sexual energy—

I’m in Love with Mothman…

Well there it is.

You thumb across the glossy cartoon cover, failing to bite back a smile. Yoongi has a penchant for tossing in the most outlandish romance books he can find. Maybe because he knows you spend just as much if not more time than he does between the stacks. The suggestion box at the desk was full of cards stained with your penmanship asking for longer hours; several of which you’ve seen Yoongi rip in half as he pointedly met your gaze.

Tossing it aside, you pull forward one of the more musty books and start reading.

When you finally manage to resurface from laborious tales on several cults of Aphrodite, the rain is long gone. Even the darkest corners of the old building seem to glow gold in the evening sunset filtering through the glass doors. They're the only thing standing between you and freedom in the form curling up on your couch with a glass of wine and a new episode of your favorite reality dating show. But first, Yoongi needs his books back.

His desk chair is abandoned and the return cart is gone as well which means he could be anywhere in the building. Disappointment leaches into your spine at the fact you won’t be able to witness his reaction to the twelfth book in your pile; the one you spent an extra fifteen minutes looking for in the corner of the third floor.

A thick piece of library paper lists the materials you’ll need for the next day lays atop the neon green cover of Pest Management Solutions: How to Manage Your Moth Problem. They decorate the corner of the desk until Yoongi returns to find them. Hopefully he appreciates your humor.

Yoongi isn’t at his desk the next morning when you come in either. Instead, a doe eyed man with a lip piercing occupies the chair, clearly playing some game on his laptop.

Approaching the counter, you begin to ask, “Where’s Yoon–”

“Staff meeting,” he interjects like he’s already answered the question a million times despite the library opening only five minutes ago. The white of his teeth threaten to blind you. “But I can help you!”

His name tag isn’t the same engraved golden metal Yoongi’s is, it’s a plastic sleeve with a paper insert with barely legible handwriting you decipher as “Jungkook” and below “Volunteer.” You’ve seen him before from a distance. Usually trudging through the shelves with the book return cart in tow, occasionally taking a quick read inside before putting them in their rightful place.

“I need to pick up some books. I gave Yoongi the list yesterday.”

“Sure.” Jungkook jumps up, approaching the shelf lined with piles for other patrons. “What’s your last name?”

He combs through the list after you answer, finding your stack easily enough.

“Alright so Yoongi left a note that the encyclopedias you wanted are on the usual desk you have upstairs. But other than that I’ve got: Historical Studies of Changing Fertility, Sacred Mushroom and The Cross, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in The Ancient Mediterranean…” Jungkook lists off the titles, checking to make sure they're all in order. “And, um, this one isn’t on the list.”

It must be Yoongi’s choice for the day.

“What is it?”

Jungkook looks like he’s trying to hide his own amusement as he slides it over for you to read.

If I Were a Bird, You'd be The First Person I'd Shit On.

“Huh,” you blush. “Wonder how that got in there.”

“He must have left it by mistake. I can put it ba–”

“No, I’ll take it.” You toss it on top of the other, less embarrassing books in your stack and gather it into your arms before Jungkook can get in another word. “Thanks for your help!”

Scurrying towards the hallway housing the elevators, you attempt to juggle the pile of books, your stuffed bag, and coffee without taking a spill. It’s one thing to have your silent battle with Yoongi, but having someone else witness it makes you feel downright silly. And for the first one witnessed by others to be such an absurd and downright passive aggressive selection sends embarrassment through your veins.

As promised, three encyclopedias sit neatly on your desk; the volumes so thick they protrude from the table top like a small mountain. No wonder he left them there instead of making you carry them up in individual trips. But Yoongi’s goodwill clearly ended there. A sticky note on top of the stack pens his discontent at your selection.

I had to spend 3 hours in the basement to find these. If you need them again, don’t.

Even though he hadn’t signed it, you know it’s from him. The tight script fits his personality; thin lines of annoyance bleeding through the ink, not just his words. A waft of musty old paper and dust breezes through your nose as you open the first copy. They must have been housed in a forgotten storage area. At least his bird book makes more sense now.

You don’t dig into the heap until after the sun is halfway through the sky but when you do it only proves to unravel your wits. Reading on, the wrinkle in your eyebrows deepens further. Page after page of conflicting knowledge passes by, each sentence more confusing than the last; minutes negating months of research. The thick pages hardly provide a soft landing for your head as you allow it to thump forward in exasperation.

The scrap of chair legs alerts to a new presence watching your meltdown in real time.

“Something wrong?” Yoongi asks.

With a heavy sigh, you respond.“I want to die.”

“Get in line.”

Shifting in your seat, you peer in his direction. A different day but the same wardrobe: dark button up, glasses, same unapproachable facade. But what Yoongi is doing sitting next to you is new.

Yoongi makes himself comfortable, picking at his nails as he waits patiently for an explanation.

“Everything in my thesis is either wrong or the world authority on fertility in Europe is full of it.”

“Bummer.”

“Your sincerity is overwhelming.” You snap.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. Boredom seeps across his face but he doesn’t move to leave, just sinks deeper into the chair. “You’ve read almost half the collection since you started coming here, why are some old dusty books such a big deal?”

“Because all of those books cite these books which means those books are wrong and all my work is in the toilet.”

“Those books are from the seventies, the information is probably out of date.”

Slamming the copy serving as a pillow shut, you take a second glance at the title: Encyclopedia of Women and World Religion, Volume 7.

“Yoongi,” you sing.

Yoongi’s gaze flashes to yours, a trickle of confusion flashing across his eyes.“What?”

You stack up the books and push them across the desk with some effort. Just to savor the satisfaction of besting Yoongi, you indulge a long sip of now cold coffee before speaking again. No one else is around to witness your victory but that won’t dampen the high.

“Looks like you’ll be back in the basement because you brought me the wrong editions.”

He opens his mouth to argue, snatching one of the books to investigate but you beat him to the punch.

“I asked for the twenty-fifth edition, not the seventh.” You smirk. “I think you're losing your touch.”

He watches you over the rim of the cover. A fleeting glance in your direction but it makes your heart squeeze with need.

“Well, I guess you’re right,” Yoongi sighs, standing. “Do you still need them for anything or can I go ahead and take them?”

With your approval, he heaves the heavy tombs on to his cart. The strain of his forearms, bare from rolled up sleeves, catches your attention. Veins raised under creamy skin, lean muscles leading down to hands you’ve noticed since the first day you started visiting the library.

If you keep staring, you’re likely to start drooling. So you dive back into one of the useful books littering your desk and pretend to read until he’s disappearing down the hall.

On your way out, leaving much earlier than a typical day due to Yoongi’s mistake, you drop the remaining books off at the circulation desk. Along with a copy of Avian Hunting Techniques. He’s absent again but it doesn't matter.

You continue out the doors and down the sidewalk only to spot him leaning against the brick exterior further down the street. Even from a distance you can make out the natural scowl he’s constantly sporting. Except this time his lips pout around a cigarette.

Of course he smokes.

The quasi-mysterious librarian who flirts with you through book titles, smokes cigarettes and looks hot doing it.

“You know those things will kill you, right?”

“That’s what the box says but they aren’t holding up their end of the deal,” Yoongi responds, flicking the ash before looking at his watch. “Wow, out before six. I’ll alert the press.”

“Well, if someone gave me the right books then maybe I’d stay longer. But I’m not about to wait around while you get the ones I need.”

Yoongi takes another drag of his cigarette before responding, “Are you trying to say I forced you to take a break?”

The realization dawns on you. Yoongi is the senior research librarian. He’s never given you the wrong books, even when you request the rare copies needed to be loaned from a different part of the country. The few times you’ve offered understanding if he couldn’t get them were met with a challenge in his gaze and smug satisfaction when handing them over a week later.

“You brought me the wrong copies on purpose!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He’s lying. You know it. Yoongi definitely knows you know by the way he smirks. But he’s already crushing the filter under his shoe and moving back towards the library by the time your brain catches up to your mouth. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

With a scoff of indignation, you stalk towards your car.

The next morning, you march straight through the class doors to where Yoongi sits, fueled by snowballed annoyance from the previous day. Waking up on the wrong side of the bed is an understatement. If there are any gods, Yoongi should pick one and pray.

Your free afternoon of yesterday was spent dealing with the chaos your apartment has become over the past few weeks. Unfolded laundry, stacks of random papers, out of place books, and errant dust bunnies all became new victims to energy usually reserved for a full day of research. Taehyung practically shit himself when he woke up before dinner and found you scrubbing the bathroom sink.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, hand to his chest like a flustered old woman.

Bleach curled in your nostrils. “I live here.”

“Not between the hours of eight and seven.”

But after the mess was dealt with, aggravation set in. How dare Yoongi purposefully meddle in your work. Well meaning or not you were an adult and could decide when enough was enough. The purposeful mishap hadn’t set you back far, one afternoon but a drop in the bucket in comparison to the months you’ve already spent chasing new leads. But the principle of the matter is that it’s none of his business what you do and when you do it.

Yoongi slides a slimmer stack over when you stop in front of him.

“Encyclopedias are on your desk,” he announces through a sip of coffee. He continues to type away, feigning disinterest as you sort through your stack with measured annoyance.

“Are they the right copies this time?”

“Double checked them myself.”

You open your mouth to verbalize your doubts but Yoongi’s pick of the day catches your eye.

Surviving Your Stupid Stupid Decision to Go to Grad School.

Scoffing, you flip the book around and shoot daggers into his face with your eyes. “Do you think you’re funny?”

The corner of his mouth twitches then becomes a full blown smile. Leaning over the desk, he drops his voice, “I think I’m hilarious.”

Remembering you are, in fact, in a library, you manage to muffle a frustrated groan. You dump the supplementary reading back on the counter for Yoongi to deal with and head upstairs.

Unlike the usual days where you put off finding a response to Yoongi’s extra copy until the waning hours of the afternoon, you drop your bags and head straight for the shelves. The fifth floor houses a collection of textbooks and other reference material. It’s why it's always deserted unless some poor fool stumbles on it by accident; the perfect place to work uninterrupted for hours.

You head down stairs, circling the fourth and then third floor like a shark in a feeding frenzy. A few covers spark interest but nothing captures what bubbles in your veins: annoyance, anger, confusion. A brief flutter of interest as to why Yoongi decided to mess with you but those feelings are more dangerous than the acidic ones.

Row after proves unfruitful in your quest for passive aggressive revenge. None have the same bite as his book, or seem to curb the homicidal thoughts raging in your head.

Until a little white book peeps back at you from the end of the aisle.

Yoongi jumps when you slam Bitter Is the New Black: Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smartass in front of him. A feat in and of itself to sneak up on him given the loan desk has a perfect view of the entire first floor but whatever he’d been clicking away at on the computer was distraction enough.

“What's this?”

“Thought you might like some new reading.” You flash your teeth.

His chin jerks towards the glossy cover. “I already gave this two stars on Goodreads.”

Of course he has.

Face prickling in embarrassment, you turn back the way you came without a word.

Hours later, when half the day has ticked by and the ache for more caffeine burns your eyes, Yoongi stops by your desk. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t try and gain the attention you pointedly withhold. He sets a paper coffee cup on the corner of the tabletop and leaves.

You snatch up the cup after he rounds the corner out of sight. The lack of sugar leaves much to be desired but free coffee is free coffee, especially to a PhD student with limited means.

It isn’t much of an apology but guilt blooms down your spine anyway. He meant well. You aren’t known for giving yourself breaks; unable to quit while you’re ahead. A voluntary day off is less likely than winning the lottery. You’re a busy body and the constant work keeps you from dissolving into chaos.

You don’t see Yoongi again until every book at your desk is exhausted, begging for a break from your manhandling. Double and triple checking notes and citations are the poor excuse you implement to delay the inevitable. At some point you’ll have to go downstairs to face the music.

He’s waiting like always, scanning the mountain of returns littering the counter from a long day. Each step closer withers something in your stomach.

The copies in your hand shift onto the wooden surface, joining the stack for him to work through. Yoongi flashes a polite grimace when you catch his eye before immediately diving back into his work. Hopefully he understands why you chose Thank You for Smoking. And why you covered the second half of the title with a sticky note.

Jungkook’s smiling face greets you bright and early. His name tag has been upgraded from flimsy paper to a plastic one and a printed label with his name.

Handing over your library card, he quickly scans it and grabs the books meant for today’s dissection.

“Yoongi wanted me to tell you that if you want more coffee while you’re working, you can go to the staff lounge on the second floor.”

“Oh.”

Jungkook continues sifting through your requests, making sure each is correct. “Between you and me, the coffee down the street is better. But don’t tell him I said that.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a coffee snob and thinks his shit—sorry—stuff is the best.”

“Okay,” you say, grabbing your pile. “Thanks.”

You set up your station like always, sorting through each book and devising a mental to do list. The desk resembles a feast but instead of food it’s encyclopedias, printed articles, and dusty manuscripts Yoongi wrangled from who knows where. On the outer board of your work station rests the feature of the day: How to Beg for Cigarettes.

A few hours pass between the pages. Your previous research is confirmed by the significantly less dusty encyclopedias this time, corroborating the basis of your thesis. A new work you haven’t seen is cited in the back, piquing your interest for more evidence.

Instead of bothering one of the staff, you use the library website and find it in their catalog. It’s somewhere on the second floor where Yoongi offers free coffee. Two birds, one stone; a new book and a new cup of coffee.

The layout resembles all the other floors. A collection of study tables in the center crowded by bookshelves on all sides. One person, an undergrad by the look of pure dread on their features, occupies a table but that's it. Glancing at the note with the call number, you start towards the stacks on the left.

You find the correct area, eyes scanning up and down the different shelves to no avail. Hundreds of books, different sizes in an array of colors, flash by but none are the one you need. You’re about to call it quits when you spot it on the top shelf, just out of reach.

Call it a moment of stupidity, a brief blight of recklessness, but the book sits only a few inches beyond your fingers. You look around to make sure no one is around to witness the brilliantly flawed idea crest in your brain. With the coast clear, you hoist yourself up the shelf.

A deadpan voice nearly makes you fall.

“Looking for something?”

Yoongi stands a few feet away, head cocked to the side. Of course he’d find you in such a ridiculous position. Even through the blur of your peripheral vision, the harsh lines of his usual uniform clashes against the back drop of books. Dark jeans fitted over his thighs, dark button down rolled up his arms, and a pair of glasses that make him look hot. But you’re in no position to dwell when the risk of falling on your ass is so high.

“Nope, just getting in some exercise” you grunt, moving your foot to the shallow hold of the next shelf.

Yoongi moseys up behind you before continuing. “And climbing a decades old bookshelf is how you stretch your legs?”

“You smoke cigarettes, I climb old furniture. We all have our vices.”

Your foot slips from its perch, making you squeak before catching your balance.

“Alright spider-monkey, that's enough.” His hands slide across your hip, fingers curved around the softest part of your waist as he helps you down.

Distracted by the weight of him still on your hip, the heat of his chest a scorching across your back, you don’t even think to disparage him for the cheap Twilight reference. The few inches Yoongi has on you allows him to reach overhead to snag the copy you need with ease. But as you watch his hands close around the spine everything beyond fades to black; like the universe pinholes where you two stand.

“This one?” You feel the vibration of his words up and down your spine, warm breath tracing across the shell of your ear.

Body on autopilot, you turn to face Yoongi. His mouth moves, eyes scanning the book cover but every word deafens in a muddy haze. He doesn’t seem to realize his hand is still on your waist, or how he crowds you into the shelves; chest to chest, stomachs barely an inch apart.

“Huh?” you ask, tearing your eyes away from his mouth.

“I said, if you asked for this book earlier I could have gotten it for you.”

“Oh.”

“You okay?” he asks, stepping further into you. “You look a little flushed.”

The bastard smiles. A God’s honest smile like his thigh isn’t between your own, or he isn’t waiting for a reply while his fingers dig in beneath your ribs.

Just when you open your mouth to say something, Yoongi silences you with a firm squeeze of his hand. His head lowers until his breath ghosts along your chin.

Then you’re kissing; lips sliding together easily like he anticipated it. The world shatters all around from just a few passes of his mouth across your own, the weight of his body flattening you against the bookshelf.

The first hint of his tongue against the seam of your lips makes you gasp and Yoongi takes the opportunity to taste you. You melt under his attention. Head tipping back, shoulders bowing to take more, your senses flood with the remnants of coffee and something else; something so quintessential Yoongi your head spins. It lights a new flame in your veins, one burning with pure want.

A handful of his shirt pulls him closer. Yoongi follows easily but gets more than asked for when one of your hands tangles in the back of his hair, tugging until he’s tilting his chin the way you want. It’s a bad habit other dates have subtly complained about but a noise bubbles in his throat at the dig of your nails; responding with his own palm squeezing roughly across your ass until your hips meet his.

The crash of the book near your feet is like a bucket of ice water.

“Oh my god,” you gasp. Jumping back proves futile as the shelf digs further into your spine. “I–”

Puffy lips and lowered eyes stare back at you, clear evidence that you haven’t hallucinated what just happened. Yoongi dips down to kiss you again but you slither out of his grip.

Forgetting the book on the tiled floor, you mumble an apology and flee back upstairs, beelining to the vacant restroom.

To your own mortification, your features mirror Yoongi’s; lips swollen, eyes glazed. Your sweater twisted around your torso clearly betraying your rendezvous in the stacks. Beads of sweat cling to your forehead and neck.

A few splashes of cold water help clear the fog in your brain but as it dissipates embarrassment sets in. Making out with a handsome man is one thing. Making out with the librarian assisting in the most important work of your life is an entirely different ordeal; one that can only spell trouble.

Pacing back and forth, the cool paper towel on the back of your neck helps calm your racing heart enough to leave the safety of the ladies room.

Try as you might to drown under piles of books, it’s useless. You pretend to read the same passages over and over but none of the words register. The kiss replays over and over and over again. You kissed Yoongi. Yoongi kissed you back. He tried to kiss you again when you pulled away.

The end of the day inevitably comes which means you have to face him whether you want to or not. But you won’t allow a single lapse of judgment to affect your work; a moment of weakness propelled by months of abstinence that just so happened to coincide with a surly librarian’s entrance into your life. You just needed to get it out of your system. If it hadn’t been Yoongi it would have been someone else.

At least that’s what you tell yourself.

A glance at your watch informs you that today is the second day you’ll leave the library early. Rather than give into the stubborn instinct to stay, you decide putting as much distance between yourself and Yoongi is far better for your mental health. With squared shoulders and a raised chin, you head downstairs.

Yoongi’s waiting behind the counter. He isn’t typing on his computer or scanning books. He watches every step you take, arms crossed in front as he leans forward like he’s eager for a confrontation.

“Yoongi,” you say.

“Y/N.”

You use every fiber of will to maintain eye contact as you pass your stack over the counter. “I’ll need these same ones tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He nods. “And the kiss?”

“What kiss?” you croak.

Yoongi’s eyes blaze like you’re a new puzzle to be solved, like he wants to take you apart and find exactly what makes you tick. You feel naked. “The one where you—”

“Must have been someone else. Sorry. Have a good night!” You rush for the door before he can say another word.

Another morning is another day in the library, but this time your roommate begs to tag along.

“Look, I’m not getting anything done on my thesis so maybe you’ll rub off on me,” Taehyung says.

Rolling your eyes, you step through the door he holds open. “I think you’ve had plenty of people rub off on you.”

Gasping with fake indignation, he catches up easily. “Are you calling me a slut?”

“Yes.”

“Good, I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. Is that him?”

Yoongi and Jungkook are talking behind the counter. Jungkook’s hands wave wildly as he recounts whatever information to his boss while Yoongi listens with fake interest. Or that's what someone else might think. The subtle signs he cares are hidden in the details; the miniscule lift of shoulders, a cock of his head, and when Jungkook pouts in a way too ridiculous for a man his size, Yoongi hides a smile in the shake of his head.

“Yes.”

“And I’m the slut?” Taehyung scowls as you pinch his shoulder. “What? He’s a nerd’s walking wet dream.”

“And he can hear you, so shut up.”

“Morning!” Jungkook calls on his way past with a cart full of books.

He grins like he knows exactly what happened on the second floor yesterday but that can’t be true. Yoongi doesn’t seem like the type to kiss and tell. Only the type to kiss and tease you relentlessly for it when no one else is around to hear.

Taehyung’s attention immediately locks on him. You love your roommate, always have and, unfortunately, always will; but he is a slut and Jungkook is definitely his type. However, he’s on your turf and knows better than to fuck where you have to eat for the next few months.

“Y/N, Y/N’s friend,” Yoongi says when you approach his desk.

“Taehyung.”

“Right,” Yoongi drawls, blinking lazily before sliding your books over and turning around to sort something on the opposite counter.

Taehyung, ever the gentleman, grabs the pile for you and follows upstairs.

“Well he seems like a cup of sunshine,” Taehyung whispers.

“Just because he isn’t fawning over you doesn’t mean he’s an asshole.”

“I’m very fawn-able, ask anyone,” your roommate argues as you approach the fifth floor. “Wait, what's this… How to Defeat Your Own Clone and Other Tips for Surviving the Biotech Revolution. This is the type of shit he’s giving you? You’re easier than I am.”

“Give me that.” You snatch the paperback out of his grip. “Stop being nosy.”

Taehyung lets you work in peace after that, disappearing to gather more of his own materials. Even in undergrad he’d never been one to sit still for long. But he still managed to get a spot doing an engineering thesis despite the constant changes in his attention.

After several hours of mind numbing typing you need a break, and another cup of coffee on someone else’s dime sounds perfect.

“I’m getting coffee.”

“Bring me some,” Taehyung says without looking up from his screen.

The staff lounge is nothing fancy. A couple small tables with plastic chairs tucked around, a cork board covered with fliers, and a white board stuck to the fridge scrawled upon with black dry erase marker. The coffee pot sits full in the machine, still hot to the touch.

You pour two cups. Taehyung’s gets loaded with creamer cups until it’s closer to white than black while yours is sweetened to sickening perfection. When you try to take a sip, the liquid immediately burns your tongue. Too hot coffee is better than cold coffee but an ice cube would help make it more palatable.

Moving back to the fridge, you go to open the freeze but stop when the white board catches your attention again.

Most notes are chores or friendly reminders about time cards but almost half the board is dedicated to a back and forth.

‘Unofficial Employee of the Month: Jungkook’

A note in Yoongi’s tight script: ‘You don’t work here.’

‘That’s why it's unofficial!’ in what must be Jungkook’s messy handwriting.

‘You’re my official employee of the month. - Namjoon’

At the bottom is a crude drawing of stick figures, two tall smiling ones holding hands under a rainbow labeled ‘JK’ and ‘Joon’ and a comically shorter one with evil eyebrows surrounded by storm clouds and ‘yoongi :(’ overhead.

“Snooping for secrets?”

“Jesus Christ,” you jump, turning to face Yoongi. “Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to sneak up on people?”

“You’re in the staff lounge, there’s gonna be staff here.” Yoongi crosses to the coffee pot on the counter and pours himself a cup. He doesn’t add cream or sugar or anything else to lessen the bitterness. Cliche. “So, was bringing your boyfriend here your subtle way of letting me down?”

“You think Taehyung is my boyfriend?” You whirl around in shock. Yoongi raises a brow, prompting you to continue. “Jungkook is more his type than I am.”

Yoongi releases a pleased hum, eyes shining. “So no boyfriend then?”

“Nope.”

You’re shaking but don’t look away from his hungry gaze. Yoongi takes a step closer, and another and one more until you're pinned to the countertop and his mouth is on yours.

This time, you're more aware of everything. The smell of his cologne, the tickle of his bangs along your forehead, all the tiny details that were muffled before. Yoongi’s lips are firm against your own, a little chapped but it only makes you hotter with each pass.

His mouth is everywhere; your chin, your jaw, peppering down your throat until he pushes aside the hem of your shirt and sets to work on the jut of your collarbone like he’ll never get a chance again.

“Yoongi,” you hum on the first rake of teeth.

He takes it as an invitation to dig in harder, sucking the skin until your spine threatens to break and you say his name again. Desperate for some kind of anchor, you knot your fingers back in his hair and pull.

A throaty noise responds and the need to hear more rears its head. Yoongi who always watches with measured fascination undone by some light petting. The power is addictive.

Legs spread, he presses in flat. The heat of his cock, rigid beneath the fabric of his jeans, teases across the seam of your own. You're technically still in public but the consequences concern you less than the knowledge that you’ll go mad if you don’t feel him. His arms circle your back, pulling you firmer against him, right to the edge of the linoleum counter.

Wedging a hand between your bodies, you manage to get his zipper undone while your tongue traces along his jaw. Yoongi angles his hips to help, curling into your palm when you cup him over the fabric of his boxers. Every press has him swelling harder.

His hands reach under your shirt. Skin on skin, the rough calluses of his fingers trace your ribs, thumbs following the cup of your bra in a tease. It’s a simple touch but your own hands falter when he brushes a nipple. You melt into each other.

“Hey, Yoongi, do you know where—HOLY SHIT!”

Jungkook stops at the door, eyes wide, mouth wider.

“Get out!” Yoongi barks. He’s trying his best to keep your body covered from the younger man’s view but even if Jungkook isn’t getting a full frontal he isn’t dumb enough not to realize what’s going on.

Yoongi shudders a few breaths. Head hung low, he tucks himself back into his pants without moving away. You’re already slipping down from your perch when he looks back up.

“I’m just gonna…go,” you mumble, scurrying out the door.

Jungkook waits outside, eyes still bugging out of his head but at least has the decency to pretend he didn’t catch you in the act.

Tugging your shirt down, you avoid his gaze. How far would you have let Yoongi go if Jungkook hadn’t interrupted?

“Coffee?” Taehyung asks as you approach the table.

You know what you look like without a mirror. The same as yesterday with glassy eyes and bruised lips, clothes wrinkled. Thankfully, Taehyung is more interested in his modeling software than where you’ve been.

“They were out.”

With a sigh like he is personally victimized by the lack of caffeine, Taehyung collapses on the table and plays dead. But he perks up at the sound of footsteps approaching behind you.

“You left this in the break room,” Yoongi says, dropping a cup of coffee by your side before disappearing.

You turn to follow his retreating for until he’s hidden back between the shelves. The back of his hair is still messy despite his attempt to fix it, same with the wrinkles in his shirt from your hands.

“I thought they were out?” Taehyung eyes you suspiciously when you look back at him.

Cradling the still hot cup in your hands, you avoid his gaze. “Shut up.”

“So you do have to sleep with someone to get a cup of coffee.”

“I’m not sleeping with him,” you spit in a harsh whisper.

“Why not?”

“Because…”

Because what exactly? There isn’t a good reason other than the fact Jungkook was the king of cockblocks. You would have let Yoongi do just about anything he wanted and he seemed to be in agreement. But you’d rather die than admit that out loud.

“You are so smart and so incredibly stupid.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, rising to pack his things. “I need to pee.”

You point him in the direction of the bathrooms and get back to work.

When Taehyung returns minutes later he starts shoving his things in his bag. “I’m leaving.”

“Why?”

“This is like the epicenter of hot smart men and I refuse to suffer any longer.”

“You got Jungkook’s number,” you deadpan.

Taehyung can’t hide his own shit eating grin. “Yoongi gave it to me.”

“If you’re leaving, so am I.”

“Why?” your roommate whines.

“Because I got you a hot date and that means you owe me dinner.”

“Technically it was Yoongi but I’ll concede.” Taehyung heaves his bag up. “Come now my dearest, we can still get happy hour if we hurry.”

You reach in your own bag and toss him your keys. “Go wait in the car. I’ve gotta go grab another book real quick.”

“Whatever,” Taehyung says, mumbling something like ‘nerds’ under his breath as he heads downstairs.

You find Yoongi while on your way to his desk, already toting around the cart piled high with returns from the day. Several of the covers are Taehyung’s picks and somehow the knowledge they’ve spoken almost knocks you off kilter. Taehyung is a good wingman and that’s what worries you most.

“Hi,” he says, kneeling to put a book on a low shelf.

It shouldn’t have the effect it does but something about the way Yoongi looks up at you, on his knees, head tipped back, has your mind running wild with the image of him in the same position with both of you wearing far less clothing. Maybe if you weren’t interrupted in the staff lounge you’d have seen it in real life.

“Hi. Mind if I add these to the pile?”

“Go ahead.”

The Stocking was Hung sits on top. You don’t wait around to see his reaction.

The temperature had steadily been increasing over the past weeks but this morning is the worst of all. That inescapable warmth fully seeded overnight and promised the comforting days of sweaters and pants are long gone.

Heat makes you lazy and fitful. In the early hours, long before you actually need to be awake, you stare up at the ceiling of your room. Not even a frigid shower helped the stickiness of your skin or laying still in your bed in nothing but one of Taehyung’s shirts and ratty shorts. It followed you everywhere until you left for the same brick building you spend more time at than at home.

Without thought, you throw on the first seasonally appropriate outfit in your closet; a thin dress that covers enough for the public but promises to keep you cool.

Yoongi seems to be taking the change in weather as well as you are. His usual attire is absent, nothing but a white shirt clinging to his torso. The pale skin of his forearms briefly catches your attention but you focus anywhere else to stop from rounding the desk and finishing what started upstairs.

You steel yourself and approach the desk, determined to act normal.

Familiar dark eyes flash up to greet you but Yoongi’s mouth doesn’t form any words. He just stares at you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your shoulders, your neck, and then he pointedly keeps them trained on your eyes. Like he's willing to pretend yesterday didn’t happen.

He doesn’t speak when he passes over the same pile of books as yesterday but you can feel him burn a hole in your back. Even after you climb up the stairs and out of sight, the prickling sensation you’re being watched follows.

You don’t get anything done. The words on the page might as well be another language as your mind races.

Yoongi didn’t give you an extra book today.

An endless list of potential explanations race through your mind. Maybe you’d been too forward with your choice. Maybe he’s gotten it out of his system, a quick tryst in the employee lounge enough to satiate his curiosity. Maybe because it’s the second time you’ve brushed him off. Even if it wasn’t your fault Jungkook stumbled in before anything worthwhile could happen.

But he isn’t speaking to you and he isn’t giving you the random book you’ve come to look forward to every morning.

Channeling the restless energy of overthinking, you take a lap around the floor. You pause to flip through random books as you zigzag through the stacks. Anything to take your mind off the unshakable tension sticking in the air like syrup.

Your laptop is in sleep mode by the time you reluctantly come back. Everything is as you left except a book you’ve never seen before sits on top of the open one you’d been reading.

There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom.

A sticky note sticks up from the inside of the cover. A bolt of excitement shoots down your spine. When you flip it open a familiar handwriting stares back: ‘on the seventh floor’.

You hadn’t been gone too long but the fear of making him wait has you rushing up the stairs. Each step brings you closer to where he waits until you’re opening the bathroom door.

“Yoongi?”

A hand wraps around your upper arm, yanking you in. Another hand silences a surprised shout before you realize it’s Yoongi and not a murderer pinning you to the interior of the door you just came through.

“Jesus, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” he breathes. “It’s just not a good look for me to be up here.”

“Oh, really?” You smile. “And why is that?”

“This is my job.”

“Didn’t seem to stop you before.”

“Who says it’s stopping me now?”

He thumbs the strap of your dress, hooking under the thin material and dragging it down your arm. The heat and weight of Yoongi against you, touching you so simply, makes you vibrate. Yoongi moves into your neck, panting with a grind against your thigh. “I swear I don’t usually do this.”

You want to argue that you have two accounts that he does do this often, at least with you. But for someone who says they don’t, Yoongi is surprisingly natural. The tease prickling the end of your tongue fizzles out under his teeth across the curve of your shoulder, goosebumps blossoming along your back.

A whimper unbecoming of an adult woman breaks the lullaby of summer air conditioner singing through the vents. You’re sweating under the cling of your dress, skin hot to the touch thanks to Yoongi’s attention; long fingers curved around your waist, thumbs skimming just under your breast.

“Could have fooled me.”

“This is a very nice dress.” His mouth bites down your neck, taking advantage of the new strips of skin the neckline unveils.

“That’s all it takes?” you pant from the wet of his tongue. “A pretty dress?”

“If you think,” he whispers into your ear. “I’m doing this because of your dress then you really haven’t been paying attention.”

The dark locks of his hair are too alluring to resist, tempting one of your own hands to scratch against the tip of his spine when Yoongi rolls against you again. A firm tug brings him to your mouth, lips molding to one another in a searing kiss. You can taste the coffee from the lounge and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke, like he thought to hide it before asking you to follow him.

“How long? How long have you wanted this?”

Yoongi hooks one of your thighs higher, savoring the heat of your core against the crotch of his pants with a slow thrust. “Since you came in and busted my balls over not having that archived manuscript when the website said we did.”

You remember that day. Patience thin from Taehyung’s loud overnight guest, you stormed into the library looking to take it out on a photocopy of the manuscript only for the only copy to be AWOL. Yoongi became the surrogate for your rage, his eyes burning into your skull as questioned how he could let it happen.

The next day was when he started adding books to your stack.

“That was months ago.”

“I’m a patient guy.”

You want him naked; ache to catalog what he’s hidden underneath bulky sweaters and loose button ups over the past few months. But that idea has to wait for somewhere less risky. You settle for dipping your hand under his shirt, tracing your fingers over the elastic of his boxers peeking from the waistband of his pants.

Attempting to hide the effect he has, you loop your fingers in his belt loops and pull him even closer so your face is hidden in the crook of his neck. “There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom? A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Like The Stocking was Hung is any better?” Yoongi sighs as your mouth ghosts over the rising vein webbing the side of his throat.

“Hey!” you object, rising to face him. “I thought you’d appreciate it after that mothman book.”

“I appreciate you complimenting my dick plenty.”

Yoongi doesn’t let you go, hands palming at the swell of your ass the entire way from the door to the counter. He’s got one hand curved along your jaw, thumb hooked around your chin and his teeth bruising your lower lip. The edge of granite digs in your spine but not for long as he lifts you and settles on his knees to dive under your skirt.

He kisses up your calf, tongue snaking across the knob of your knee then the plush of your thigh. Just when you feel a puff of breath against the damp crotch of your panties, Yoongi falls to repeat the same path against your other leg.

You don’t suffer for long. Pooling the excess fabric around your waist, Yoongi blinks up from between your thighs. The pink of his tongue follows the edge of your panties, wetting the fabric more until it clings obscenely.

He pushes his glasses up to rest on the top of his head, keeping the mess of gray and black hair out of his eyes before diving back down.

His tongue lathers over your covered slit with a groan. “Taste better than I imagined.”

“You thought about this?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about it. On my desk, yours, against that fucking bookshelf.” Yoongi punctures each word with more wet kisses against your core. “In my car, my bed. Everywhere.”

A cool breath has your thighs squeezing around his head thanks to the erotic combination of his spit and your own fluids drenching your panties. “Is this all you think about?”

“I had to come up here and jerk off yesterday because I couldn’t stop thinking about your hands.”

Your panties are pulled to the side before you can indulge in the new visual blooming on the edge of consciousness. “Yoongi.”

Eyes closed, his mouth circles your clit, tongue gently stroking you to life. Every pass against the sensitive bundle of nerves has your thighs squeezing around his head.

The first prod of fingers makes Yoongi’s hold on the crook of your knee tighten. He stretches you back open, eyes following the way you suck him inside; coating his spindly digits with more arousal each time.

“A-ah,” you shake. “Please.”

Yoongi chances a glance up at your face, the needy sheen in your eyes, the way your mouth gapes, and decides to take mercy.

He latches back onto your clit. Yoongi groans as you tug his hair, knocking his glasses to the ground. The pace he works your remains lethargic, savoring the kick of your hips until you grind against his mouth.

Throaty groans vibrate against your cunt, tightening the muscles along the inside of your thighs. Neither of you are doing a good job muffling yourselves but if it’s between getting caught and having him stop then you’ll deal with the consequences when they come.

“Oh, Yoongi.” Your chest pulls tight; spurred on by the sounds of Yoongi bullying your insides, his mouth smacking against your folds. “I’m— oh, oh, oh!”

The rough crook of his fingers sends you flying. Only the pressure of his shoulders keep you from slipping off the counter as you explode against his mouth. Euphoria rushes your veins, licks of pleasure overwhelming. Every muscle quivers as Yoongi works you through until you use his hair to pull him away.

He’s quick on his feet. You’re still recovering as Yoongi pushes your bra down and draws one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and sucking until you pull his hair again. Eyes cinched tight, face wet, you force his pants open then his underwear until Yoongi is almost as exposed as you are; pretty in your palm, sticky and hot to the touch.

But it’s not enough to feel him in your hand, you need to feel him inside. To fill you up where you sit hollow and aching without his fingers to provide a sliver of relief. “Fuck me.”

Yoongi doesn’t tease, has no quip about how needy you are. He keeps his mouth on your chest and uses his hands to grab something out of his pocket. It happens so fast you don’t even realize the condom is on until he nudges between your legs.

Your nails dig into his back, breathing through the initial stretch is the only way you stay quiet. Yoongi hides himself back in your neck, strained noises clawing out of his throat.

Yoongi isn’t gentle. Not caution or waiting. Months of push and pull destroy any desire for him to treat you as something fragile. He rushes into desperately, forcing your palm flat against the mirror behind you for some semblance of stability.

“God,” he grunts. “You’re incredible.”

You whimper a quiet acknowledgement, too fucked out to blush under his praise; pulling Yoongi closer until he’s scooping his hands underneath your ass, thrusting into you over and over. His mouth finds yours. Greedy. Hungry.

It’s Yoongi who struggles to stay quiet. Even through the kiss he moans loud enough you feel it in your throat. You listen to them all, twisting the hand knotted in his hair to hear the whine you’ve quickly become obsessed with.

“Should have done this sooner,” your back arches and Yoongi’s mouth slips back down.

“I tried. But you kept ignoring me.”

“I wasn’t—fuck—ignoring you.” Yoongi is everywhere. His taste on your mouth, cologne burned in your nose. The feel of him all over your body. “Shit.”

He fucks you harder to prove a point, hand slipping down to rub your clit. Your second orgasm glows on the edges. If Yoongi keeps playing with you, stretching you in half on his cock and biting a mark into your breast, you know you’ll come.

You focus on breathing. Letting it come to you instead of chasing it, overthinking it to the point it evades you. It’s easier than usual. Yoongi doesn't leave room for anything else beyond feeling good.

“Oh my god,” you whisper as the cord tightens.

Everything turns white hot, pleasure tearing through your muscles and ripping them to shreds. You convulse in Yoongi’s hold, only pinned down by his hips fucking you brutally. Nerves shot, Yoongi babbles praise in your ear but it's indecipherable from the headrush.

Yoongi follows you over the edge a few strokes later, twitching inside you until he stills. His hips give a few arrhythmic bucks as he fills the condom with his load.

There's something nastier about clothed sex. The way sweat makes your clothes cling tighter, the rush of needing each other so badly you can’t be bothered to do more than pull things to the side.

You feel dirty but in a good way. Yoongi kisses across the apples of your cheeks, your chin, your forehead, even your brows, but never returns to your lips. Each leaves you more frustrated than the last, muscles twitching beneath and head turning at the last second to try and meet his mouth.

Tricking you with a brief connection, he laughs when you chase his lips as he dodgers back. But a pout and whine bring him back into your orbit.

He cleans you up with paper towels, wiping away the mess between your thighs with something akin to disappointment. But he doesn’t complain as he fixes your clothes and then his own. Muscles like jelly, you fall into his side when he helps you down from the counter.

With a kiss to your temple, “Let's get out of here.”

“Morning, Yoongi.” You smile as you walk up to his desk.

A set of dark eyes rise to greet you, taking the cup of coffee you so graciously offer before smiling as well. “Good morning.”

Jungkook gawks like he’s never seen you two speak before. Round eyes bounce between you and Yoongi as if it’s a tennis match instead of a normal conversation. Probably because Yoongi was less than subtle when he pulled you out of the building yesterday, telling him to call Namjoon if anything came up.

Or maybe because you’re wearing one of Yoongi’s shirts.

You discovered much about the mysterious librarian overnight. He’d taken you back to his apartment; a perfect extension of himself decorated with dark furniture and more books than anyone could possibly read. Yoongi owned a collection of vinyl records that rivaled his book collection, he was a great cook, and he was studying to take the entrance exam for law school.

After you were wined and dined, Yoongi dedicated hours between your legs. On his couch, against the massive bookcase in his living room, between the sheets of his bed.

He also had a kink for eating you out while you explained your thesis in precise detail.

You’d only been allowed to leave when Yoongi was getting ready for work, not that you'd put up much argument.

You make a scene of sorting through the stack he slides over. It’s not that you don’t trust Yoongi. But now that you’ve had a taste, you’re addicted to his presence. But he unfortunately can’t follow you upstairs so you savor the time now.

“One of my books is missing,” you say.

“Oh, right.”

Yoongi passes over an unfamiliar copy.

Maybe He Just Likes You

And the blue sticky note attached, with his handwriting. ‘Dinner when you're done?’

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi @dokyeomkyeom @yoonguurt

#kvanity #ksmutsociety #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi smut #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi angst #min yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi fic #yoongi fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #🫡 highvern

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mrfoox · 1 year

Text

Living alone with my cats is my anti social younger selfs biggest dream. Sorry I can't sleep over... No my cats need to be fed sorry.... I need to be home before 8pm...

#miranda talking shit #I prefer having sleepover at my place and always have. I was terrified of everyones dads and siblings #Now its like... I actually can only visit people over the day bc my cats need to be looked after lol #Not that i have many people to visit as an adult... But one friend suggested an sleepover and im like yea sounds fun #Youre gonna have to come here tho 😂#I have my issues with living alone but wheb it comes to having people over its so good #I dont need to think about my parents being around or siblings... Its just us and my cats #Not to be autistic on main again but im unfortunately uncomfortable in any social situation but if it happens in my home #At least i know how my bathroom works and sink #My fear is coming to an house with an sensetive toilet and you use too much paper and it plugs like thats a fear #Even if i just pee i have bad anxiety about that lol. Or anytime i need water... Some people have weird taps #Some takes forever to get cold water... Some have their glas in different cabinets than me #Ill be weird trying to find then and failing. God so much can go wrong #Autism tag

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seancekitsch · 2 months

Note

Hazbin Hotel—Lucifer x Reader where he’s a love struck fool for reader? May or may not be inspired by that little imagine you posted not too long ago \(//∇//)\

uhhh this kinda got away from me. enjoy!!

You’d have to be a fool not to notice how the King of Hell acts around you, even Angel and Husk told you that. But you’re not blinded to situation, you know exactly what’s going on. You rest your elbow on the bar next to Angel as Charlie gathers the hotel residents and staff, a job not unlike herding cats. Everyone trickles in slowly, waiting for the next odd trust bond activity Charlie has come up with now. Last week was heartfelt letter writing, and the three of you at the bar had not taken it seriously. You handed Husk a comedic inner monologue about how much you needed to pee, Husk handed Angel a surprisingly detailed made up story about a talking whisky bottle, and Angel handed you a list of what roles he’d cast the entire hotel in a porno.

“What do you think they’ll have us do this time?” Husk mumbles to you, topping off your drink.

“Honestly, not a fan of the way Princess is smiling right now,” you answer.

Charlie waves everyone over, and Vaggie smiles uncomfortably, ready for everyone to start.

“Okay Good Afternoon,” Charlie starts, practically bouncing, “Today we’re going to try to form new bonds!”

Immediately, she’s met with groaning and mumbling, but thats never stopped her and it won’t today either.

“So what better way to do that then having a buddy for the next twenty four hours!” She shouts, and Vaggie’s face immediately makes sense.

“I’ve separated everyone from their regular group so they can build these bonds and be open!”

“…got something you could open…” you hear Angel mumble under his breath.

Charlie gives her dad a thumbs up.

“The first pairing is… my dad and Y/n!”

The Morningstar family sucks at being subtle or lying.

“So what did you have planned for the day?” Lucifer asks while sitting beside you, his voice short and clipped, his entire demeanor like he’s on high alert. It’s cute, really.

“Ah don’t worry about it,” you shrug, “What does the areat King of Hell do with his day?”

Lucifer rubs his neck, fidgeting under your question.

“It’s not… Its not actually all that interesting,” he admits, “You’ve probably got something cooler going on.”

There’s something he’s avoiding besides your gaze, but you don’t press the issue.

You look across the lobby to Angel, who pauses his conversation with Vaggie to mouth something that looked like the word “fart” to you, and then wink.

Your art gallery. Right.

“Have you ever been to Pentagram City’s biggest art gallery?” you ask him.

Lucifer is a gentleman. You understand how he stole the first man’s first two wives from him. Sure, he’s stumbling and stuttering and a nervous wreck, but he’s holding doors open for you and asking about your thoughts and feelings about the pieces on display, he’s accidentally on purpose almost held your hand three times now. Next time he does it, you’re just going to grab his damn hand.

You stare at the sculpture in front of you, noting that you should have someone move this to a different room. In fact, there’s a few things you’ve noticed while showing Lucifer the art that you should have moved around. Maybe you’ve been neglecting the gallery a bit more than you thought now that you live at the hotel.

“Hey, Can I ask you about these?” Lucifer’s voice booms from the next room over. Sighing, you type a quick note into your V-Phone and turn.

Oh shit.

Lucifer found THAT room.

You cross the threshold into the room you never go into, the room with your own work. Honestly, it’s not even curated the way the other rooms and floors are. This is where you put anything that you think can leave your studio. He’s in front of one of your biggest paintings, and one of your newest. It’s an abstract piece about your feelings about redemption, about your past sins, about adjusting to the hotel. Which it sounds stupid when you put it like that, but it made sense in the moment and you’re proud of it.

He turns and smiles before looking back at the painting.

“Is the uh, is the artist willing to sell this piece?” he asks, his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning red.

Now it’s your turn to get nervous. You’ve never actually sold any of your own pieces before.

“I uh- I’m not gonna sell it to you,” you tell him, “You can have it.”

It would be weird to take money from Lucifer, even if he is offering. You like him a decent amount and a transaction between the two of you would make it weird. It would feel like you owe him, even though your art would technically satisfy that. If he was one of the Vees or someone you dislike, you would have immediately taken money.

“But the artist-“

“Me,” you clarify, and you finally remember you don’t tag your own art. Lucifer’s jaw drops at your admission.

“I’d really like to support your work, it’s magnificent,” Lucifer insists, and you feel your cheeks burning. He turns to gesture to another piece, and his knuckles brush your own.

Fuck it. You told yourself you’d do it. You grab Lucifer’s hand in your own, a bold move.

“Just think about it as a gift,” you tell him, “A thank you for the lovely day we’ve had.”

You inwardly cringe, knowing that when you recount today at the lobby bar your drinking buddies are going to tear you a new one for that corny line. But it fits for Lucifer; he’s bringing out a side of you that you really haven’t seen in a while.

“Thank you uh, gorgeous,” he tacks on the pet name like even he isn’t sure about it, and with his hand still in yours, attempts to lean against a sculpture, stumbling as he misses it and bringing you along with him. He tugs you by the arm, jerking you closer to him. He’s majorly out of practice.

“I have a studio upstairs if you want to see more?” you offer, not really sure if you thought that through.

“More art? Absolutely!” He recovers quickly, enthusiasm dripping from his voice.

You smile as you pull him towards the hallway, butterflies in your stomach as it dawns on you that he’s going to be the only person besides you to see the studio.

You and Lucifer end up staying there until Charlie calls him the next morning.

You notice paint on his chin after you get back to the hotel.

#lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader

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fiendishfables · 2 months

Note

I would love to see this- Lucifer is the strongest entity in Hell, and it turns him on like nothing else when his lover wrestles him for dominance. He will go straight up feral over that.

Lucifer Morningstar wrestling his S/O for dominance...

Headcanons + Drabble

warnings: nsfw, hints at degradation, mentions of blood, biting, scratching, power-dynamics, rough(er) love

words: 806

a/n: I had way too much fun with this- thanks for this lovely, unique ask, I hope I did it justice! It was a bit difficult for my pee brain to come up with things to write, but the people need to be fed; here is your feast

✡ It's hot, its rough, and it's primal

✡ Ideally, Lucifer never tended to like it when anyone challenged his authority, no matter what over

✡ But if you, his lover, did so, he had the benefits of being able to take you however he pleased after you get the chide out of your system (with consent of course), knowing damn well how much it riles him up

✡ When the two of you wrestle, its almost like two wild animals, fighting for a meal that could very well end up being your last before a harsh winter rolls in

✡ It doesn't take long for his demon form to make an appearance during your steamy game, allowing him a decent advantage over your regular strength capabilities; you often call him out for 'cheating', but seeing him in such a feral state turns you on like nothing else

✡ You can feel him getting hard the first few minutes of your rough-housing, telling you all you need to know about how much he really enjoys doing things like this with you. His deep, guttural groans are hard to ignore, his wings flaring up as they batter your body with feather-light touches

✡ His claws and fangs are really coming out now. His claws are dug deep into your skin, leaving light (yet effective) scratches on your skin, as he watches the blood well up on the line of the cut, proceeding to then lean down and let his forked tongue lick off the excess mess his claws left behind

✡ Bite marks will litter your body, blood complimenting those areas as well. The stinging sensation they leave can not go unnoticed and they only help add to the different emotions you are feeling in the current moment

✡ Having someone to challenge him, both mentally and physically, gets him going; its admirably hot how you continue to protest that you could take him down if you wanted to, and he likes seeing that smug, confident smirk of yours turn to one of pure pleasure and ecstasy as he proves you wrong, over and over again

✡ Knowing he holds the most power possible for a being in any hellish realm, makes it all the more fun when you try and downgrade that title, even if just in the slightest bit; it's your own little game you like to play with one another, a common game of cat and mouse, or rather, Devil and prey

✡ Lucifer is ravaging your body, fully claiming you this time, letting you know that there is no one but himself that can hold this power over you; it reminds you that he will always be in charge one way or another, no matter how much you question

✡ In the long run though, you both love these feral moments in your relationship, getting to express your shared love for one another even in such a strange, somewhat brutal way

✡ He loves fighting for his right to dominate you, and he never fails to claim it.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The heavy panting and notable scent of sweat on the pair of your bodies seemed to go unnoticed, as the two of you were locked in both an intense staring contest, and a physical fight between your bodies; fingers were locked together, arms continually pushing at the other in an attempt to overthrow them. Your bare skin rubs against each other feverishly, his hard cock still buried deep within you from earlier.

"Do you really think you can overpower me in a battle for dominance, darling? I suggest you give in and just let your King take care of you."

His voice was smooth, soothing almost, aside from his heavy breaths filling your ears. He still sounded like an angel to you all the same.

A feral one.

The two of you had been at this now for a good half-n-hour, trying to secure your position as the dominant party in the sheets for the night, but Lucifer had you pinned underneath his own pale body at this point, using the enhanced strength from his demon form to keep you where you were.

The fight for dominance had been over just as soon as it had started; you both knew this from the beginning.

No matter if you were to be above or beneath him, he would always find a way to end out on top of it all, including yourself.

And by all the Gods, if that didn't make him even sexier in your eyes.

You would easily give yourself up to Lucifer whenever he wanted or needed you; there was no doubt about it and you both shared that same knowledge.

But maybe, if this is where challenging him for dominance got you, then you'd have to indulge in the action more often.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

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AITA bc I hate my dog?

My live in gf and I got a puppy. I never wanted a puppy. I told her many times I don't want puppies for the same reason I don't want kids: they need too much and I get overwhelmed. I have a cat and that's exactly the relationship I want with a pet. My cat will cuddle with me while I work but she doesn't impede my ability to work. The puppy is the opposite. Everything is about the puppy all the time. The only time I feel like I can think is the brief periods throughout the day when the puppy is in the crate. Apart from that it's constant. The puppy is eating the furniture and the carpet and harassing my cat and potty training isn't going well. I have to watch the puppy every single second to avoid disaster. It's so draining.

My gf meanwhile is in love with the dog. She plays with it and it's much better behaved for her than for me. I do everything she says I'm supposed to to keep the puppy from biting me, to assert myself, but none of it works. Taking care of this dog is my personal hell.

I know the dog will grow up and grow out of this phase so I'm trying not to let my gf see just how angry I am. But I'm angry. I'm angry by how much time this dog takes up and I'm angry about all the stuff it's destroying, and I'm angry that my gf is apparently having the time of her life. We haven't even had sex since she brought the dog home because she spends every second with it. It used to be we'd cuddle on the couch or in the kitchen and things would progress from there but now she's just focused on the dog 24/7 and I can't even get close enough to cuddle her on the couch. This dog that's peeing on my floor and eating my dresser gets more affection from gf than I do.

I told her about the sex thing and said I was a little hurt that we haven't been intimate recently and she told me I was being a dick and that I should just know puppies are a lot of work and that it'll all get back to normal eventually.

So AITA for telling my gf I feel like she likes the dog more than me? AITA for being so upset about this dog and wishing we never got it?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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rinkkuma · 5 months

Text

୨୧ BF SATORU

ft. satoru gojo

tags. gn!reader, a bit of cussing, all fluff ! / author's note. IHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (i've actually been going insane because of how much he's taking up my mind) first post of 2024 had to be my one and only of course :3

uses you as an arm rest even if you're a tiny bit shorter than him. (satoru is 6'3 / 190cm for reference) if you're really short though, he has to lean down more and he's standing like the leaning tower of pisa, so he looks silly.

FACE CARD. he's actually the most majestic, gorgeous, beautiful man alive. up close, far away, from the left, from the right, above, below, he looks so fucking good. don't even get me started on when he has his glasses on.

satoru has a million gazillion of those skincare headbands with ears. he has a few cat ones, a hello kitty one, a kuromi one, and many many more. he even has a whole drawer dedicated to the headbands. (that is very close to overloading) he looks super duper cute with them though, so you never have the heart to tell him to stop buying every headband in existence.

whenever he feeds you something, he puts his hand under your chin to catch any crumbs. a tiny gesture to him, a big one for you. he smiles when your eyes widen and you mumble a “it's good”, and proceeds to poke your cheek.

satoru puts his hand above your head to make sure you don't bump your head whenever you go under a table to pick something up.

he is ever so slightly awkward in the beginning of your relationship, but it's cute! the first time you fell asleep on him, he was terrified to move because he was afraid to accidentally wake you up. 2 hours later satoru really really needed to pee, but decided not to get up because of how much it felt like a crime to wake you up. (you ended waking up anyways because of how much he was fidgeting.)

tucks your hair behind your ears before you can even realize it's bothering you. he looks at you with the most lovesick expression as he does this. he also does this while you're falling asleep, or already fast asleep.

before bed or as you guys wind down for the night, he more than often bursts out laughing at a random thought or a funny memory. scares the shit out of you because one; he's right by your ear, and two; his laugh is loud as fuck. he can't even explain what he was laughing about until a solid three minutes because of how much he was laughing. (and it ends up not being that funny.)

adding onto the above, he's the type to think everything is funny as shit at night. every reel, tiktok, you name it. (even if it's the unfunniest video known to mankind) sometimes if you're already asleep, he has to step out into the bathroom or living room to let out these laughs.

wipes the sweat off his face by pulling his shirt up. he looks at you with a smug fucking smile after.

his contact name for you on his phone is definitely some cheesy pet name (sweet cheeks, baby cakes) with a bunch of heart emojis. his contact photo for you is another story though. constantly changing from a close up picture to a picture of you sleeping.

satoru gets cuteness aggression a lot because of you. clenching his fist and sighing before squeezing you into a tight hug. he'll occasionally bite your shoulder too.

a human radiator. the first time you touched him you thought he had a severe fever, but he calmly told you he was warm all the time. it absolutely sucks during summer because he insists to cuddle with you, and most than often you wake up sweaty. (even with the ac blasting) of course, you try to move out of his grasp when he's asleep, but he only pulls you closer subconsciously when you do. during the winter though, you are so thankful. despite the various blankets you have on, it was hard to get warm and comfortable, but with the warmth of satoru you're nice and warm.

bickers with you if you're on his side of the couch. yes, satoru does unassigned assigned seats at home too. you two playfully argue for a few minutes until he eventually huffs and just sits down on. these arguments are useless though because he ends up pulling you next to him to cuddle.

he's actually really good at taking people when they're sick. making sure you're staying warm under the covers, feeding you proper nutrition and making sure you're drinking enough water. he occasionally leaves the room for you to rest since he doesn't want his naturally warm body making you even warmer, but if he ever sees you up (you're going to the bathroom) he jumps off the couch and pushes you back into bed.

satoru suggests movie nights at home on quiet weekends. turning on an animated movie or romantic movie most of the time. he tucks you into his side with a blanket draped over the two of you. he ends up just staring at you the majority of the movie though.

does that thing where he tells you your shoelace is untied, (which prompts you to look down) and grabs your chin and tilts your head up to look at him. he smirks triumphantly. he does this multiple times a week, and you fall for it every time.

he spoils the fuck out of you on your birthday. gives you the amount of kisses the same age you're turning, listing number of reasons why they love you based on your age, and don't even get me started with how many gifts he gives you. dances while he sings you happy birthday.

once you start dating, you never are tying your own shoe ever again. before going out, he demands you to sit on the couch while he ties your shoes for you. when they get untied, he normally notices it before you. but if you do notice before him and you begin to crouch down, he rushes to crouch down before you and pushes your hand away.

likes comparing hand sizes with you. he has big ass hands, so he likes seeing how small yours are compared to his. totally not an excuse to hold your hand though, not that he would ever admit it.

#jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff #jujustu kaisen fluff

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starhrtz · 8 months

Text

𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒.

desc. finding cat poop or mice at your front door on a daily basis was starting to annoy you, and it all started because of your new neighbour.

note. i got this idea when my friend said she stepped on cat poop on her way to school LMFAO.

It didn't take you long to figure the culprit of all the cat litter that has been recently showing up at your doorstep, not to mention a bunch of dead mice were near your shoes too! But, why did the culprit's owner have to be so attractive!

CAT_OWNER!KAZUHA who immediately apologises repeatedly but he did noticed how you were stunned, did his cat really messed up this badly that no matter how much he apologised your just keeping quiet and just staring at him? When in fact, you were just stunned by how beautiful he was?! How can such a attractive yet well mannered person have such a mischievous cat?

"im really sorry on behalf of Tomo jr.. I'll go pick the litter right now! How about you rest first in my home while i go pick up the litter? I just cooked lunch for myself but I wouldn't mind sharing it with you... I mean! Just as one of my ways to try and make it up to you!"

CAT_OWNER!SCARAMOUCHE who just sighs and rolls his eyes, it's not the first time his cat did this well at least the cat didn't pee at your front door unlike his old unfortunate neighbour. Scaramouche's cat probably took mercy on you or at least that's what he thinks. All Scara did was slightly apologise but it held a little sincerity unlike his past apologies to stuff like this.

"sorry about him, he's reckless, i'll try my best to keep him in my home so he doesn't disturb your peace but... You're not going to report me right? I'd hate to lose my chance with you.. The rent is quite cheap so I'd hate to lose a place like this."

CAT_OWNER!XIAO who was wondering why his cat wasn't pooping in his litter box or anywhere on his property, he even had to see a vet thinking his cat head pooping problems! When he returned home from work, he caught his own cat in the act of leaving mice on your front door and immediately wrote a letter of apology to you since he... Isn't the best in conversations.

"sorry about the mice on your front door... On behalf of my cat im sincerely sorry, it isn't like my cat to litter or leave mice on someone's door but I hope you'd at least still talk to me i do not wish for any tension between us. Please do knock on my door once you read this. (ps. I already cleared all the mice that was on your door.

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20dollarlolita · 11 months

Text

Something that I've used to judge my health, in more ways than one, is what I call the need-to-pee test.

When I'm sitting, wasting time, and I need to pee, healthy me will just get up and go to the bathroom. That's normal behavior.

Sometimes, however, elements of my health will make that very basic task difficult. When you recognize that you need to pee, but you have to have an internal conversation with The Vampire of Despair about if you needing to pee is a failure and a judgement on your worth as a human being, you need to reach out to someone about your mental health. Being too depressed to get up and go pee is a sign that something in your mental health is very wrong. It's a sign that it's "bad enough" to really need some help.

When you recognize that you need to pee, but you don't want to get up because your body will be in pain, that's a sign that your pain is "bad enough" where you should do something about it. If you've been sitting around your house telling yourself that shit's fine, but you also procrastinate on the basic duty of going to take a pee because doing that simple task is going to cause you so much pain that it's not worth the comfort you get from not needing to pee, your body is fucked, and shit's not fine.

Getting up and going to pee is a thing that should not take effort or be unpleasant. Having difficult getting up and going to the bathroom often means that your problem is actually pretty bad. If you've been ignoring the problem, it's a very good sign that you should stop ignoring the problem.

Needing to pee but not being able to get up and go pee because the cat is sitting on you, however, is normal operating procedure. How dare you move the cat for something as selfish as your basic bodily functions. You metabolized and you didn't even get permission? The cat does not approve.

#that last paragraph was written by a cat #other “not going to pee because” that could be concerning:#forgetting that you need to pee multiple times #getting up with the intent to pee but being so distractable that you keep forgetting #your body going from “i kind of need to pee” to “holy shit we're peeing right now” with no warning #you got up to have normal pee but then you had A B N O R M A L pee #you got up to pee 10 times in 10 minutes #peeing should be routine and effortless and if something is impacting how you pee then it's a sign that it's a big problem #probably

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neverinadream · 2 months

Text

True, But My Bed Is Closer

Summary: Christian struggles to find the right words when asking you to stay over for the first time.

Pairing: Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader

Requested: Nope - but the idea comes from something @pulisicsgirl said yesterday 🫶🏻

Warnings: fluff, pre-established relationship, neighbour x neighbour, sommelier!reader, consumption of alcohol, talks of alcohol, i'm not a sommelier and far from ever being a wine expert so if something is wrong just ignore it, not edited, rushed ending

Notes: i don't know what this is and truth be told, i don't like the ending 🫣 anyway, hopefully you enjoy it. feedback is always appreciated and requests are open

"That can't be true."

"And I'm telling you it is," you reply, dropping your hands into your lap, "remember, which one of us is the expert here?"

Christian shakes his head, laughing light-heartedly as he reaches for the bottle of wine. The bottle was stained black, the type that came with a cork, and the label was printed in gold lettering. The company's logo stood out to him the most when he was trying to find the right bottle. It resembled a wax stamp, with a crest printed in the centre. He topped off both of your glasses, emptying the bottle of its very last drop, before passing you your glass.

"Cat pee?" He watches you take a sip, subtly glancing at your mouth as you lower your glass and lick your lips. "I don't believe you."

"Okay, maybe I've exaggerated a little, but-" A giggle bubbles in the back of your throat as you watch him playfully roll his eyes. "-but-! It did smell like cat piss." You take another sip, scrunching your nose as you remember the smell.

"And people liked it?"

You nod your head, cradling the glass between your hands. "It won awards."

"Do I even dare to ask how much a bottle of 'Le Cat Pee' costs?" Christian asks, draping his arm over the back of his couch, turning himself to face you. He kept his glass steady in his other hand, occasionally lifting it to take a sip.

"Not unless you want me to phone for an ambulance because you've gone into cardiac arrest." His eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, a droplet of wine dribbling down his chin as he takes a sip. You pretend you don't see it, hiding your smile behind your glass. "It's not the most expensive wine on our list though," you mumble, taking a quick sip, "we have bottles on that list that cost nearly a thousand euros, if not more, and there a people who are far too happy to pay for them. Sometimes I want to tell them they're stupid for buying bottles that expensive, but you know what they say, the customer is always right."

"Jeez," he blows out hot air and nods to the bottle at his side, "and I thought I was paying too much for that bottle."

You set your glass down on his coffee table, making sure to rest it carefully on the coaster and replace it with the empty bottle. You knew about the company that made it, even visited the vineyard where the grapes grew last summer, when you wanted to introduce more local wines to the list. You and Eva, a waitress with a bubbly personality who always wore bright pink lipstick, and aspired to be a sommelier, had spent the afternoon touring the vineyard with the owner's eldest son, Edoardo, quickly getting tipsy on samples of wine and giggling at Edoardo's terrible jokes.

It was a family-run business, spanning back multiple generations, making it perfect for a family-run restaurant. But the owner's oldest thought differently, putting an end to your idea before it could even be considered.

"The labels are all made by machines now," you say, sitting the bottle back down, "but, originally, they used to put actual wax stamps on the bottles."

He chuckles, running his thumb delicately over the curve of your shoulder, drifting up the base of your neck. "Of course, you know that."

"Sorry," you apologise, looking down at your lap, "sometimes I can't turn it off." You knew not everyone cared about the history of wine, no matter how fascinating you thought it to be.

"Don't." He dips, kissing your shoulder and then your neck, breathing in the sweet sugary scent of your perfume, before drawing back to look at you. There was a slight red tinge to your bottom lip from the red wine you had been drinking. He was itching to reach out and run his thumb against it, but settled for leaning his head against his hand instead. "I like it." You give him a shy smile. "You're too smart for the likes of me."

"Oh, I don't know," you shrug your shoulders, glancing up at him, "you're pretty smart too."

"I'm pretty," he cracks a joke, making you giggle, "but I don't know if I'm smart too."

"Seriously?" You snort. "I've been here two years, Christian, and I make a fool of myself every time I try to speak Italian. Just the other week, I think I offered a threesome to a man and his wife." You scrunch your face and groan, remembering it like it had happened yesterday.

Christian had to agree, laughing quietly under his breath. You had as much grace with the Italian language as an elephant did performing ballet.

"But you've been here, what, eight or nine months and it's already like your seventh spoken language."

"Fourth spoken language," he corrects, putting his glass aside to take your hand. He slips his fingers through yours, his chest swelling when you squeeze around them. "But who's even counting?"

He lifts your joined hands and kisses the back of your hand, his lips lingering against the warmth of your skin, before lowering them a second later. A chance encounter on the stairs seven months ago had led to what was probably the best four months of his life. And you couldn't agree more.

You never thought you find someone who you could trust after the messy relationship you had with your ex, James, but Christian had yet to prove he wasn't worthy of that trust. He listened to you when you talked, clung to every word you had to say, made you laugh, made you smile, but importantly he made you feel seen.

"Did you always know you wanted to be a sommelier?"

You shake your head. "No, I didn't even know it was a thing until I was like nineteen. I wanted to own and manage a hotel."

He looked surprised. "Seriously?"

You pull your joined hands onto your lap, using your free hand to trace lines on the back of his hand. "My dad was a concierge and, even though it wasn't allowed, he'd sometimes take me to work with him. To a six-year-old, that hotel lobby was like paradise."

He watched your eyes light up as you recounted the memories of dressing up in parts of an old uniform, standing next to your dad as he greeted guests. The sleeves were always too long for your arms and the hat kept falling into your eyes, but it never stopped you from trying to copy your dad. Growing up, all your friends wanted to be a pop star or an athlete, but you just wanted to be like your dad.

"I would make myself dizzy in the revolving doors, run up and down the giant staircase, terrorise the grouchy receptionist," you giggle, your smile softening as you spoke about your dad again, "But, when it was time to leave, my dad would pick me up onto his hip and he would always say, 'Bug, one day, I'll have a hotel much grander than this.'"

"Bug?"

Your face flushes and you present him with a smile. "Yes, Bug."

"So?" He lifted his head off his hand and stretched his arm back across the couch. "Did your dad get his hotel?"

He fakes a gasp. "My girlfriend is a dropout?"

"No," you shake your head, "he got ill, so he took early retirement instead; he and Mum have just finished their second cruise. He now wants to visit as many countries as he can, dragging my poor mother with him." You release his hand and reach forward for your glass, taking a sip. "So, anyway, I decided I'd go to uni, maybe try and get a degree in hotel management. But by the end of the first year, I realised I no longer shared the same dream as my dad."

"Your-?" You wipe your mouth, nearly spitting a mouthful of wine back into your glass. He had caught you off guard, calling you his girlfriend. "Uh, yes," you decide not to fuss over it, "your girlfriend is a dropout."

"So, let me guess," he shuffles closer, bumping his knee against yours, "you backpacked your way through Europe, where you fell madly in love with some guy you met in France - no, Amsterdam - who wore sandals and rode a bicycle?"

"Not even close," you giggle, taking another sip, thinking that would've been more fun than having to deal with George. "I moved back home, got a job in a restaurant and hoped I'd wake up one day knowing what I was meant to do."

You tell him about the first sommelier you had met, a tall, lanky fifty-something-year-old man, with thinning, white hair and a constant smell of whiskey on his breath. At best, he was a functioning alcoholic, who snuck quick swigs of whatever was open behind the bar when no one was looking. He slacked heavily on his duties, sometimes showing up to work halfway through the dinner service. And when he did show up, he snapped at the waiters for offering customers the wrong wines.

"One night, we were serving a brand new menu, just trialling out a few new dishes, and George never showed. He wasn't answering his phone and none of us had the time to go by his apartment, so I did the next best thing - I broke into his locker."

Christian tilted his head, stifling a laugh. "That was the next best thing?" He challenges you. "To break into someone's locker?"

"He kept his notebook in there," you explain, leaning over to set the glass back down, the last bits of wine swirling around the bottom, "except his handwriting was terrible, even worse than yours, and I had to guess most of the pairings. I did the best I could with what I had. The night was still a mess, and George got me fired for damaging his property, but I liked it." There it was again, Christian noted, as the same light from earlier twinkled in your eyes. "I liked slipping into the role of a sommelier, trying to bullshit the customers the best that I could. It was fun."

He slipped his arm around your waist and caught a glimpse of his watch, his chest sinking when he saw how late it was. "I'm glad you found your thing," he mumbles, pushing the sadness down. He brushed his lips gently against your hairline, humming as you leaned into him.

"So am I," you agree, not wanting to imagine your life without a hundred different bottles of wines all bouncing around your head.

You prided yourself on knowing the difference between a white wine from France and one from Italy. You liked being able to tell people about the grape that was used to make the wine they were drinking, even if they particularly didn't care. You knew red wine went best with a stake, that sparkling wine went best with fried seafood, and that champagne was once much lighter and pinkish in colour.

You were a nerd for all things wine related and you loved it.

You loved that it brought you to Milan and that Milan brought Christian to you.

Christian looks back at his watch, the soft ticking acting as a reminder that your time together was coming quickly to an end. Soon Christian would be leaving for Texas, taking him away from Milan for a week or so, and you would be leaving for a two-week stay in Inverness to help an old friend plan an event for some prestige wine society.

"It's getting late..."

"I know," you sigh, tipping your head back to look at him, "but I guess it's a good thing I only live across the hall." You stay rooted to your spot and Christian shows no signs of getting up. "Means I don't have far to travel," you whisper, drumming your fingers against your lap.

"True," he hums, settling his hand on top of yours, bringing your drumming fingers to a halt, "but my bed is closer."

Your mouth opened and closed, a broken hum and an, "oh," being all you could muster up.

"Shit-!" You watch as he scrunches his nose, the peeks of his cheeks quickly turning an embarrassing shade of pink. "I'm sorry," he groans over the giggle that slipped past your lips, your hand flying up to quickly catch it. "I swear that sounded a lot better in my head," he nervously laughs, turning to look at you, "I didn't mean to just blurt it out like that."

"It's okay," you nod your head, giving him a small smile, "and technically you are right; your bed is closer than my apartment."

He tries not to smile too much, playing it off as calmly as the fluttering in his chest would allow. "Yeah?" His voice cracks, but saves himself with a quick cough. "You sure? What if you find out I'm a terrible sleeper or that I snore too loudly?"

You shrug your shoulders and reach for the last of your wine. "Who's to say I won't be the one snoring loudly?"

He chuckles, picking up his glass and polishing off what remains, using his knuckle to wipe the corner of his mouth clean. "No, you don't look like a snorer," he says, resting his head back against his hand, "you look more like a talker. I'll probably wake up to you talking about wax stamps on wine bottles." You smile at him for remembering your silly little wine fact. "Do you want to open another bottle or...?"

You shake your head, feeling like you had hit your wine limit for the night. Any more and you might just consider turning this night into a night of firsts and not just a first.

"Then do you want to go to bed?" He asks, taking your glass and discarding it with his to the coffee table.

"I would love that."

Football Taglist: @thoseboysinblue @kickinganddriving @lizzypotter14 @brasiliangp @chilwellspulisic @notsoattractivearenti @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @masonsrem @landoslover @in-my-body-bag @laurasstufff1 @mountchilly @spicysainz @kathb59 @emcv1427 @gagaslonina @afterpills @pulisicsgirl @ricciardhoe3

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic fluff #christian pulisic one shot #christian pulisic blurb #christian pulisic fanfic #christian pulisic fic #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic x you

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holylulusworld · 5 months

Text

Flowers (5) - Honeysuckle

Summary: Honeysuckle flowers represent true happiness, romantic love, good fortune, and sweetness towards one another.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: angry Bucky, fluff, love confessions

Flowers (4) - Daisy

Flowers masterlist

For the next few days, you barely left your apartment. Bucky and you spent the time talking about all the things you never dared to bring up.

Your relationship, his feelings for you, and the woman almost ruining your relationship. Dolores.

At first, you wanted to go ballistic and beat the shit out of that woman. Bucky had to hold you back and calm you. He promised over and over again that Dolores didn’t stand a chance.

You are the only woman he wants, and the one he needs. He confessed his love and sniffled when you confessed your feelings for him.

One week later you finally leave the apartment to grab a few things for your upcoming trip to your uncle’s cabin. You want to get out of the tower for a while to spend some well-needed alone time with Bucky.

“You look pretty today, doll,” he complimented while holding your hand in his gloved one. “I mean…uh—you always look pretty. But today, you glow.”

“Aw, someone wants to get laid,” you giggled and pecked his cheek. “I thought last night was enough to tame the python in your pants, Sergeant Barnes.”

“You know how I get when you are close,” he smirked. “I lose all control and need to get my hands on you, doll.”

“You’re insatiable,” you retorted, but mirrored his smirk. “Maybe after our shopping trip. We will take my car today.”

“No bike,” he sighed and looked at the list in your hands. “I bet I can store everything on my bike.”

“I bet you’ll lose half of the things we will need, and there is no space left for me,” you pointed out, sticking your tongue out.

“Fine, no bike today.”

“We should go to Maria first. I want to tell her that she can pair me up with you for missions again. And,” you cleared your throat, “to make sure she knows that we won’t work with that red-haired bitch.”

“Did I hear my name?” Natasha poked her head around the corner, one brow furrowed.

“Nope,” you grinned at the redhead. “There is only one red-haired bitch I hate. And that’s not you.”

She winked at you and chuckled. “So, you’re good? No more fighting or rom-com drama?”

“Shut up,” you grinned at her. “We had the best reunion sex ever.” You narrowed your eyes the moment Dot stepped out of one of the offices. “We almost broke the bed, the couch, and the shower.”

“Do you want me to hate you?” Natasha sighed deeply. It’s been too long since she had animalistic and crazy sex. “You win. I’m jealous.”

“Sergeant Barnes,” Dolores cooed, acting like she didn’t lie to you to steal your boyfriend. “How have you been? We have missed you during training.”

“He had better things to do than listening to your lies,” you bit back, and gritted your teeth.

She chuckled, still believing there was a chance Bucky would leave you for good and find solace in her arms. “I asked Sergeant Barnes, not you.”

“Careful,” Bucky’s features darkened, and her disrespectful tone. “You caused enough trouble. Don’t believe for one second I will forget that you lied to me.”

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about, Sergeant,” she tried to smile her way out of the situation.

“I’m not the man I used to be,” Bucky let go of your hand for a moment to tower over Dolores. She shrank into herself. No one faces the former Winter Soldier and doesn’t pee their pants. “But don’t think for one second that I will let you get in between me and my girlfriend. Get it in your head,” he pointed his index finger at Dolores, “I only love her.”

He slung one arm around your shoulders and guided you away from Dolores and her boring looks. “Buck, I think you made her pee her pants.”

“Good.” He said. “She deserves that much and more.”

“What is that?” You pointed at the cat Bucky carried in his jacket. He wanted to grab more things for your trip, only to bring nothing but a small white furball home. “Bucky?”

“That punk kinda followed me,” he sheepishly said. “It began to snow, and I had to stop my bike. I got off my bike, to wait for the snowfall to stop and then,” he looked at the cat poking its head out of his jacket, “I heard this guy meow loudly.”

“Where did you find him?” You pat the cat’s head. “Bucky?” You looked him in the eyes. “You didn’t steal the cat, right?”

“What? No! Someone locked him in a box and threw it in a dumpster. I fished the box out and freed him,” Bucky pleadingly looked at you. “Can we keep him?”

You looked at the cat, and then at your smiling boyfriend, already knowing the answer.

“Do you already have a name for him?” You laughed as Bucky nodded eagerly. “How’d you name the poor cat? I hope it’s not snowball.”

“Alpine,” he said while patting the cat’s head. “He’s a fighter. A survivor and…he’s white.” Bucky wouldn’t stop smiling. He allowed you to carefully take the cat out of his jacket but followed you hot on your heels to keep an eye on Alpine.

“We will need cat food, and toys, a bed, a toilet,” you hummed to yourself. “Maybe we can cancel the trip? We need to take care of him first.”

“You sure?” Bucky asked while watching you play with the cat on your shared bed. “I guess there is a new man in town, huh?”

“We should order all the things we will need for Alpine online.” You watched the cat curl into a ball on the bed. He was still shivering, but he meowed happily when Bucky sat down on the bed.

“Hey punk,” Bucky patted the cat’s head, but his eyes were glued to you moving closer to sit next to him. “How do you feel?”

“We can ask a vet to check on him,” you put your hand on Bucky’s lightly squeezing it. “I guess we now have a kid, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Maybe we can work on putting on into you too?” He smirked at your shocked expression. “Or at least try? I like trying…”

The End...

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #Flowers (5) - Honeysuckle #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction

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chin-chilla-7 · 1 year

Text

Obey Me Brothers: Falling Asleep with MC

This is a little headcanons post about what a normal night would look like between you and each brother.I was thinking about it last night while trying to fall asleep and thought it was really cute. So here you go!

Not spicy - just about sleep.

Lucifer

You find that his bed is rather firm. Probably the most firm out of all the brothers’.

It’s not something that really bothers you, though, because his pillows are high quality softness.

You are often the little spoon when you are in bed together: though, he does enjoy it when you face him, too.

Either way, he likes to be the one to hold you.

Though, sometimes you get away with holding him once in a while (he likes it, not that he’d admit it).

He is a little scary to sleep with. What I mean by that is that he doesn’t really move at all. Like you can barely notice his breathing and that’s the only thing he does while he’s asleep that indicates to you that he’s still alive.

It’s a little unnerving, but overall not a dealbreaker since you’re usually asleep, too, so you don’t notice.

But, because he doesn’t really move, good luck trying to get up to go pee.

He is both a heavy and a light sleeper and you don’t understand the rules.

Because he’s a heavy sleeper when you have to pee, but not when fucking Mammon is outside his room, trying to break in for some reason or another.

Mammon wasn’t even making any noise!! How did Lucifer wake up to that!?

Not being able to pee is a small price you have to pay for sleeping with him.

Mammon

This guy tosses and turns, which can make sleeping with him difficult on your end.

He’s also the type to sprawl out in his sleep, which leaves you little room on his bed even though he has one of the biggest beds out of the brothers.

The best options for you are to koala him while you sleep, or to match his sprawling tendencies and be a mig mess of limbs in the morning.

There will be nights where you cuddle before you fall asleep, but that position doesn’t usually last.

Mammon’s not comfortable like that - well, with how much he tosses and turns, you’d be surprised if he was comfortable in any position - so he doesn’t like to hold you when he tries to sleep.

Sometimes you resort to going back to sleep in your room, which makes him sad :^(

But you want a good night’s rest once in a while, and that means going to your room for the night.

I’m not saying he’s a bad bed buddy, but he is definitely not my first choice.

Leviathan

I don’t know about you, but personally I don’t trust his bathtub.

I don’t think he cleans his sheets that much, if at all.

So personally, it’d take some convincing (namely me seeing him wash/replace his sheets) before I agree to spend the night with him.

But, when you are in the tub with him, you’re surprised by how comfy cozy it is.

He’s tentative about holding you, nervous.

But you cuddle up against his chest and he folds.

His arms wrap around your upper torso as your head is nuzzled into his neck.

His hold is firm, like holding a possession he doesn’t want to lose.

Not to say that’s how he sees you, but being the Avatar of Envy, he’s got tendencies.

Satan

Often you are in bed before Satan. Him still awake, reading one of his many books, having some late night tea.

You may have to whine a bit before you pull him away from his reading.

You find that he’s more gentle when he’s sleepy. It’s hard to believe in those moments he’s the Avatar of Wrath at all

But let me be clear: when he’s sleepy, he’s gentle. When he’s tired, then we get where he gets the title Avatar of Wrath.

Lucky for you, though, he is more often sleepy when you encourage him to bed.

He’s very cat-like in bed in the way he curls up against you.

It feels and looks very much like how cats sleep together in their little cat beds.

He prefers it when you face him while you two sleep, but is not picky one way or the other.

Is one of the brothers most lenient about how you like to sleep in bed.

Like, if you’re someone who doesn’t really like being close to someone else while sleeping, he’s cool with it.

Though, his bed is kinda small, so there’s gonna have to be some compromise.

Always seems like he’s awake before you. Every morning, he’s already out of bed, offering you some tea or water or something and you’re just like “how long have you been awake???”

You appreciate the gesture, though.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus’ bed is very comfortable, and very lush.

It feels heavenly to lay in his bed, so falling asleep is no trouble for you.

Asmodeus doesn’t have many preferences on what position to sleep in. He’s flexible, and always up for variety.

Though, he does like it when the two of you are holding each other. It makes him feel close to you in a way that makes him giddy.

I will say that his bedtime routine takes a while.

Sometimes you join him, other times you’re asleep well before he’s finished.

He doesn’t mind either way! He thinks it’s cute if you want to join him in his routine, and he also thinks it’s cute if you passed about before he was done.

He just thinks you’re cute.

He’s also not one to try something if you’re really just looking to go to sleep, so that’s something you’ve always appreciated about him.

Beelzebub

You feel the safest in bed with Beelzebub.

There’s something about the sheer size of him that makes you feel so secure.

He’s warm, and cuddling with him is softer than you expected it to be.

Often you sleep with a majority of yourself on top of him - he’s your own personal pillow.

Also his size had always made Beelzebub nervous to share a bed with you, so this made him feel better about it.

And he’s comfy. With your head on his chest and his arm holding you against him, you feel at home. Like you were made to fit there.

Belphegor

Belphegor’s bed is the comfiest out of the brother’s.

You expected nothing less from the Avatar of Sloth.

You are often the little spoon in this arrangement, not that you mind.

Belphegor’s arms are often around your waist as you two sleep together.

His hold is looser than some of the other brothers’, but you still feel secure in the hold.

You also find that you get your best sleeps with Belphegor - it must be an Avatar of Sloth perk.

What does surprise you is how Belphegor really can fall asleep anywhere. Now this is where the perk of him being Sloth ends because you can’t fall asleep anywhere, so sometimes you’re just being cuddled while he naps.

You wouldn’t move though, you wouldn’t dare.

It’s like when a cat falls asleep on your lap: you don’t move until they do.

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me shall we date x reader #obey me x reader #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader #my writing #headcanons

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makeitmingi · 25 days

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The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 42]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.3K

"We're going down to the beach, jagiya. Wanna come with?" Wooyoung poked his head into your room.

"I just laid down after unpacking. Go ahead, I'll join in a bit." You groaned, waving him off. He scurried over to give you a kiss on the cheek before leaving.

"Psst, baby." Yunho came in after Wooyoung left. You said something, muffled by the blanket that you face was squished against. You heard him laugh and his feet padding over. Then all of a sudden, you felt his weight on you as he laid his body over yours.

"Ack! Yunho!" You turned your head to protest.

"Hi, my love." He flipped you over to face him and hovered over you. He grinned and showered you in kisses.

"Mmm! Okay, enough. Down, puppy!" You yelled, trying to stop his attack on you but that wasn't going to deter him. He just attacked your even more.

"Why didn't you want to go to the beach with the others?" He yelled, wrapping his arms around your waist, dropping beside you.

"Tired from unpacking. I might take a short nap before going." You yawned, turning to face him.

"We should be sharing a room. You know I'll still come over to sleep here anyway. Why don't you want to share a room with me?" He whined, nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head.

"Well, sometimes I might want to room with Hwa or Woo too. You have to be fair, Yun." You squished his cheeks in your hands, making him lips pucker. It was so cute that you giggled, leaning forward to press your lips against his. But Yunho had other plans, hand coming to hold your head in place so he could kiss you longer.

"Can't breathe!" You smacked his shoulder to let you go. He just had a big grin on his face.

"I am being fair. I'm your boyfriend so naturally, I room with you. Simple as that." He pointed out. You rolled your eyes, slinging an arm over his shoulders.

"Come on. You hardly spend time with Mingi too ever since we started dating. He was excited to room with you." You said.

"I doubt it. And we've been spending our whole lives together, he's fine." Yunho scoffed.

"I'm going to nap." You turned to reach for your phone on the nightstand and set an alarm. You did still want to hang at the beach for a while so you definitely didn't want to oversleep.

"Sleep then, love. This vacation is also for you to relax and get some rest." Yunho stroked your hair, kissing your forehead.

"You too, Yun... You've been putting in so much time and effort to running the restaurant so this will be a break for you too, hmm?" You looked up at him, fingers brushing against his chin. He nodded and tightened his hold around you.

"Baby, wake up~ We gonna go to the beach remember?" Yunho sang, kissing your cheek multiple times. You scowled, elbowing him in the ribs to make him go away.

"I forgot what Seonghwa hyung said about trying to wake you..." He groaned in pain.

"Come on, love. You'll regret it if you don't go. The boys are already there." Yunho was relentless, holding a pillow in front of his face now.

"Buh me beech wi sil pee der." You mumbled.

"My sweet love, I have no idea what you're saying right now." Yunho giggled, pressing his face into the side of your face, giving you another kiss on the cheek.

"There, there, up we go!" He enthusiastically lifted you to sit up, cooing at you as if you were a baby while brushing the hair away from your face.

You let out a long sigh and opened your eyes, shooting Yunho the stink eye. He just smiled smugly and hugged you to his chest. Groaning and whining, you slid out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom, grabbing your bathing suit on the way. You tied your hair into a bun and put on sunscreen.

"Alright. Done." You emerged from the bathroom. Yunho was not expecting you to be in your bathing suit with his shirt as a cover.

"I-Is that my shirt?" He blinked, feeling his cheeks heat up and his ears turn red.

"Uh, yeah. It's one of the one you left at mine. Is it okay if I borrow it? It's the perfect length to cover the bathing suit, you and your long torso." You chuckled.

"I'm more than fine with it. You look great in my clothes, wear it more often." He put his hands on your hips.

"Sure." You laughed at how silly he was, tip toeing to give him a kiss.

"Go change, I'll meet you downstairs." You said. Yunho nodded and went to his room. You went to the kitchen, grabbing two bottles of sodas and bags of snacks to eat.

"I'm ready! Let's go swim!" Yunho marched up the stairs from his shared bedroom with Mingi. You figured that they probably took one of the basement rooms. He carried the drinks for you so you could grab your things with a towel tucked under your arm.

"Look who woke up the sleeping bear." Seonghwa ran over to you, seeing you and Yunho walk over to the shore front from the deck.

"Did you just call me a bear?" You scoffed.

"Thought we wouldn't see you for the rest of the day." Mingi chuckled, patting your shoulder. You punched his arm and went to sit with Hongjoong under the beach umbrella.

"Ocean not your thing?" You asked, opening on of the soda bottles and taking a gulp.

"When all Mingi and San want to do is drown each other, then Wooyoung and Jongho join in on that... It's not fun." He scoffed.

"Their chaos knows no end." You shook your head. Speaking of, you watched how Wooyoung tackled Yunho to the sand and Jongho helped by stacking himself on top.

"PUPPY PILE!" San yelled and the rest all stacked on top, making you and Hongjoong wince.

"Yah! Be careful! I still need an intact boyfriend at the end of the day!" You yelled but of course they ignored you, continuing to squish your tall boyfriend into the sand. All you could do was watch and hear Yunho's yells of defeat and the others' yells of victory echo throughout the whole beach.

"(y/n)! Save me!" Yunho called out.

"Looks like you've got it under control, Yun!" You yelled back, raising your drink to him. Eventually, they did let Yunho come up but he stormed over to you.

"How did I have it under control?! I was suffocating and dying! Nice to know you have my back!" Yunho frowned.

"Sorry, Yun. There was no way I could stop them. They would just stack on top of me too." You shrugged, shaking your head.

"Don't pout." You patted his cheek, holding up the bottle of soda you brought for him as some sort of peace offering. Yunho did take it but set it down without drinking, confusing you.

"Yunho!" You squealed as he suddenly lifted you up bridal style. You scrambled to wrap your arms around his neck.

"Jeong Yunho! You overgrown golden retriever! Put me down now!" You scolded, watching as he headed towards to the water.

"The water is looking nice and cooling, isn't it, love?" Yunho smirked as he stood in the water that brushed against his knees. You continued to yell for your friends to help you, clutching onto Yunho like a scared cat.

"Remember cats don't like water, Yunho!" Seonghwa yelled from where he was standing, just watching this go down. You shot him a glare, that wasn't very helpful.

"Yunho, you'll regret this." You threatened.

"You're so cute when you try to be fierce, love. But remember, you asked for this." He chuckled.

"How did I ask for this?! I offered you a soda! I seriously encourage you to reconsider this, Yunho!" You squealed. He seemed to contemplate it for a second and you were relieved.

Until he dropped you. But your tight grip on his neck didn't relent, ending up with him being dragged down as well.

"Ah~ It's cold!" You splashed the water at Yunho, a dramatic frown and pout on your face while he laughed.

"Park Seonghwa!" You got up and ran over to your best friend.

"Oh no, you're not!" Seonghwa ran away, knowing what you were going to do. Luckily this time, Jongho and Wooyoung helped you, stopping Seonghwa and holding him in place. You plastered your wet self to him, hugging him tightly. He howled at the feeling of the cold wetness seeping into his skin.

"You!" Seonghwa's face looked like the red-faced angry emoji and you ran to get a headstart, turning to see him chase you angrily. You laughed out loud as you ran.

"Ack!" You saw Yunho doing to same to Mingi, hugging him with his best friend with wet clothes too.

"Got you!" Seeing how you were momentarily distracted by Yunho and Mingi, Seonghwa tackled you into the sand.

"Yeah! Panné her like a pork cutlet!" Wooyoung cheered Seonghwa on. The both of you burst out laughing, of course all of you would use food analogies to egg each other on.

"Choi San! Kang Yeosang! Put me down!" The both of you watched Yeosang and San carry Hongjoong to the water.

"No!" His sunglasses were slipping down his face as he squirmed but the two were the strongest in the group, he wouldn't be able to fight them off.

"Yah! I'm your hyung!" Hongjoong panicked, his voice going an octave higher.

"Bye, hyung!" On the count of 3, the two men flung Hongjoong's body into the water like he weighed nothing, quickly fleeing the scene before Hongjoong could recover. You and Seonghwa sat beside each other, laughing so hard your stomachs hurt.

"I'm hungry." Seonghwa stated.

"You're always hungry." You snorted, making him shove your shoulder. But you did get up with him, going to the umbrella where your things were to find snacks.

"Oh, Yunho says the kitchen is empty so we have to go get food at the nearby supermarket for meals and all that." You informed.

"Sure. Wanna wash off and go now?" Seonghwa asked, emptying the small bag of pretzels into his mouth.

"Okay." You grabbed your things and stood up to rinse off so you wouldn't bring sand into the house and your room. You went back to the house with Seonghwa and separated to shower.

'Going with Hwa to buy groceries for the house. I'll see you later. Love you! - (y/n)'

You sent Yunho a text as you jumped into one of the vans with Seonghwa. He plugged his phone in to play music while you drove.

"This should be it. Let's see what they have and get food for the meals. We can always come back for fresh vegetables instead of buy them to store." You said, parking the van. Seonghwa hummed and you walked to the store together. He pushed the cart while you looked at the produce.

"We should get the staples first." He adviced. You got salt, pepper, red pepper flakes, red pepper paste, bean paste, zucchinis, garlic, onions, a few types of kimchi, peppers and tofu.

"We'll do barbecue for one of the night's right?" You asked. He nodded and you went to the meat counter to order from the butcher.

"Hwa, there's something I need to discuss with you. I've talked to Jongho about this-"

"It's about our contracts almost finishing, right?" He cut you off with a small, knowing smile as he leaned against the cart while you both waited for the butcher.

"Yeah..." You nodded slowly.

"I figured, considering we are celebrating a year since the restaurant opened, it also means our contracts are expiring." He shrugged.

"Right... Do you have a plan or inkling of what your decision is? And when I say your plan, I mean, regardless of what my plan is and what I plan to do." You quickly clarified. Seonghwa threw his head back with laughter at your words.

"You always feel guilty when we say we'll stick with you." Seonghwa chuckled, patting your head.

"Because right now, I don't know what I want to do or what I should do. By now, I would have moved on to another restaurant. But I also didn't think I would be dating the owner." You sighed.

"Whether you stay on or not, it wouldn't change your relationship with Yunho, you know that." He said.

"Yeah, that's what Jongho said. But... I don't know..."

"But you like change, that's why you go to different restaurants after your contracts end." Seonghwa pointed out. You thanked the butcher and put the meat in the cart.

"But Yunho's one of the things that I want to keep constant. I don't want change in that aspect." You shrugged.

"Ah, I don't know. I know Yunho would want me to do what's best for my career but... there's this underlying... I don't even know what it is... guilt?" You groaned in frustration while Seonghwa put soy sauce in the cart. He reached out to hold your hand, squeezing it reassuringly, a soft smile on his face.

"I'll stick with you. No matter where you go. And no, that's not to burden you or to make you think about my 'future' as a chef. I'm supporting you." He leaned down to tell you.

"You're just like Jongho. You all have such amazing skills that will get you places, you shouldn't have to stick with me." You said.

"But we want to stick with you. It's how we've learnt and picked up these skills." Seonghwa shrugged.

"And that's another same thing Jongho said to me." You laughed, grabbing some random snacks, especially a few bags of Yunho's favourite potato chips.

"There they are!" The two of you turned to see Wooyoung standing at the end of the aisle, pointing at the two of you.

"(y/n)!" Yunho had the brightest smile on his face, running over to you excited.

"Y-Yun!" You yelped. It was like a giant golden retriever galloping to a kitten. He nearly knocked you over, his arms wrapped around you as he squeezed you to his chest. Your winces were muffled against him as he lifted you up, laughing all the way.

"Yun! I can't breathe! And we saw each other an hour ago! You're acting like we haven't seen each other in years." You slapped his shoulder to let you go.

"But I still missed you." He whimpered. You laughed, he was always so adorable with his mannerisms.

"Alright, now where were we?" He asked, hooking arms with you and mindlessly marching down the shopping aisle with you.

"I got the most important thing!" Wooyoung rushed over with his own cart, filled with different kinds of alcohol, mainly different flavours of fruit soju.

"Woo! That's way too much alcohol!" Seonghwa scolded.

"It's fine, hyung. We'll probably finish half of this by tonight." Wooyoung waved the older off.

"Half?! No way, I'm not dealing with any of your drunk selves tonight." Your eyes widened at his declaration. Shaking your head, you ignored Wooyoung and continued getting the rest of what you needed. Yunho melted seeing how you've already planned to buy him so many packs of his favourite snacks.

"Bacon, eggs, cheese, milk... Sausages... We need to get bread too." You said, putting multiple packs of bacon into the cart. Yunho ran to get a few loaves of bread for you.

"Are we good?" You asked. Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Yunho looked over the cart one last time.

"We're good. Let's head back." Seonghwa pushed all of you towards the cashiers.

"You carry this. We'll carry the rest." Wooyoung cooed and patted your head, giving you the small box with all the chips instead, which practically weighed nothing.

"I can carry more, you know?" You raised an eyebrow.

"We can manage. Don't want you getting injured, sweetheart." Seonghwa said. You gave him a flat look.

"We got it, love. Let's go." Yunho smiled, walking beside you, carrying all the stuff. You went out to the two vans and unloaded all the groceries that you bought, which was a lot since it was food and drinks for 9 people.

"Wanna be my passenger princess?" You asked Yunho. He blinked in surprise at your question, pointing at himself in confusion. You nodded your head.

"Sure. Are you buying me dinner first?" He playfully flirted with you, batting his eyelashes.

"Yeah. Mcdonalds drive thru good?" You scoffed, opening the door for him to get into the passenger seat.

"Usually Mingi is the princess but I don't mind being your princess." He giggled while you get into the driver's seat. You laughed at how silly he was.

"Are the others still at the beach?" You asked.

"Not sure. When I noticed you were gone, I went to look for you and jumped into Wooyoung's van." He shrugged.

"Well, puppies do get separation anxiety." You pointed out, reaching over to pat his thigh. He turned his head to glare at you while you smugly smiled to yourself. Any chance to tease Yunho's likeness to a golden retriever puppy and to see his reaction to it. You parked next to Wooyoung and opened the trunk.

"My brain's already in holiday mood because I am still sleepy." You yawned, carrying the box to the house. Hongjoong opened the door for you all of you.

"Here, let me." Jongho, of course, relieved you of what you were carrying first, even if it was the lightest out of all the bags.

"Go take another nap, love." Yunho said, pressing his body to your side and kissing the top of your head.

"I'm fine, I should help prepare for dinner." You leaned against his chest. Yunho continued to plant kisses on your head and you tried to escape the grip he had on your waist.

"Yunho!" You squealed.

"Ugh alright, we get it. We're single!" Mingi groaned, shaking his head at the two of you. You and Yunho simulatenously stuck your tongues out at him. You patted Yunho on the hip and went to the kitchen to help your crew prepare for dinner.

"We'll do some marinated meat. The rest is plain grill." Seonghwa told you as you washed your hands.

"We can help with the grilling later!" San said from the couch.

"Wait, wait, wait. Before we start on this. I'm declaring that the party starts right now." Wooyoung said, placing 4 shot glasses on the table. He opened a bottle of soju and handed them out.

"Uh oh, this looks like a bad idea." Jongho laughed but still clinked glasses with the rest of you before taking the shot.

"I'll make sure you get to bed later, love." Yunho chuckled, looking on in amusement.

"I hope we at least make it to grilling the actual food and eating it." You shook your head, beginning to pour the ingredients for the bulgogi into a bowl before adding the beef.

"Beef bulgogi done. Are we doing spicy pork belly?" You asked. Seonghwa nodded his head, sliding the gochujang over to you. After making the spicy marinade for the pork belly, you taught Yeosang and Hongjong how to to de-vein the shrimp. Yunho and San were outside on the deck, starting the grill.

"Rice is cooking. Cover and fridge these?" Mingi pointed to the bowls with the marinating meats.

"Yes, please." You smiled, going to wash your hands. After that, you helped prepare the vegetables to be grilled. Wooyoung made the bean paste stew.

"Grill is up and ready for the meats." Yunho came back to your side. This was looking to be a great vacation.

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oneforthemunny · 8 months

Note

orrr maybe earlier in the relationship with Janitor Eddie, they go through a haunted maze/haunted house together

falling |janitor!eddie munson x teacher!reader|

prompt: a "haunted house" looks a little different at hawkins elementary's fall festival. apart of my spooky stories series <3

“Are you scared?” Eddie muttered, hands rubbing down your arms sweetly.

“Terrified.” You grin, turning to look back at him. “Think I should use the bathroom now? Might pee on myself, I’ll get so scared.”

A laugh bubbled up out of Eddie’s chest, dimples deepening with a stretched smile. “Yeah? Jeez, babe, now you’ve got me worried.” Eddie looked at the entrance of the small gym door- the old gym, from years and years before. The school still kept the building, used it for parties and storage- for the Haunted House during the Hawkins Elementary Fall Festival.

“Didn’t know your kids were this scary.” Eddie hummed, stepping up slowly as the line moved.

“Terrifying. You didn’t know?” You teased, eyes sparkling the way they always did when you joked with him. It made Eddie swoon. “Steve’s a lot braver than me. Offering to work it this year. He’s a Saint for that.”

“Yeah, he is…” Eddie muttered, hands balling in his leather jacket pocket. He definitely did it out of the goodness in his heart, and not the thirty dollar bribe Eddie gave him so he could spend the night with you.

“I’m excited to see it though.” You chirped. “They’ve been working so hard in art. We had to cut bats out the other day- do you know how hard it is to cut a bat with kiddie scissors?”

“Never tried, but I can imagine.” Eddie smiled. “I don’t know how your fingers even fit in those. My hands cramp thinking about it.”

“Years of practice.” You bump your hip playfully with his. “Pretty much an entire semester in college. I swear, all we did was cut construction paper and make arts and crafts for different projects. It was the best and the worst class. My hands were sticky for a semester.”

“That’s… wow, actually now that you say that, I do remember Steve taking that class.” Eddie laughed, curls bouncing with every soft shake of his head. “He was always covered in glitter. Just unexplainably glittery.”

You laughed, that crystal, beautiful laugh that had Eddie’s knees wobbling. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

It was your turn next, stepping up to the small box where a student and chaperone sat. Amanda, from your class. “There’s just two of us.” You grin at her.

Her eyes flitted back from you and Eddie, grinning with her own excitement. “That’s two tickets.” She held her hand out, taking the tickets eagerly. The chaperone handed her the stamp, a scaredy cat outline in purple ink. She hesitated on Eddie’s hand, stamping it on his un-tattooed knuckles.

You waved goodbye, arm snaking around Eddie’s, pushing the streamers to the side. “Guess the secret’s out.” You mutter, the stamp glowing in the black light of the dark room.

“Guess so.” You could feel Eddie tense slightly, a shaky breath. “You-You’re cool with it?”

You rolled your eyes lightly. “Eddie, I don’t care what my fourth graders think about my love life.” You shake your head. “We’re gonna be a hot topic at recess, that’s all.”

“Yeah? Kinda boosts my ego.” Eddie puffed his chest out playfully.

“I can tell.” You giggle. “Head’s getting bigger already.”

“Could be my hair.” Eddie ran a hand down his curls. “Kinda hot in here. Think my curls are starting to frizz.”

“I think they look good.” You hum, smoothing a sweet hand down the curly locks, still soft and clean from the shower he took earlier. His hair was damp when he picked you up, from a rushed shower and too impatient to let it dry all the way; too excited to see you.

“Enter if you dare,” The dramatic, scary tone of Steve Harrington- in his Dracula ensamble- floated down the hallway. “And don’t touch, ok? Hands to yourself. Have a good time.” Steve nodded, letting the kids down the hallways, dark with animated, age appropriate scary sounds courtesy of the Halloween Screams CD playing on a loop.

“Hey, you’ve been in here three times, and you only have one stamp. You sneaking in here or just not leaving?” Steve frowned, stopping the boy in the Donatello costume.

You laughed, pulling Steve’s attention to you. He rolled his eyes. “Just- Last time or get in line like everyone else, alright?” Steve nodded towards the Ninja Turtle.

“What? You’re not doing the voice for us?” Eddie grinned, brows raised in amusement.

“Shut up, Munson.” Steve muttered, pulling the plastic fangs out of his mouth. “Shoulda charged you more.”

Eddie glared at him, eyes cutting to you. You were too busy looking at the decorations, waving to your own excited students. “Wow, Harrington. This is very scary.”

“Yeah? You jealous? Want to switch with me?” Steve snorted lightly.

“Oh, no.” You shook your head. “I would never want to deprive you of this. You’re really in your element.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up you two. You’re doing the Christmas party. You think candy is bad? Wait until it’s candy, and hot chocolate, and winter break. See who’s laughing then.” Steve quipped, an eye roll that had both you and Eddie laughing, leaning in to each other.

“Alright, go in. Don’t touch anything. These decorations are barely hanging on.” Steve pulled the curtain.

You clung to Eddie’s arm- for your students, you told him, so they would think you were scared. Eddie didn’t mind, of course. He was more than happy to have you on his arm. Watching your exaggerated expressions, the kids' dramatic scares and giggles that followed when they saw it was you. For once, whispers following when he passed down the hallways didn’t bother him. They were different from the ones from years before, when he was in Hawkins Elementary as a student, a lanky, skinny boy with holes in his clothes; who never had a Halloween costume unless he made one, and then the kids made fun of him.

He would have killed for a teacher like you. Someone who would’ve been kind to him. You brought in extra costumes, bought from the Salvation Army, put them in your treasure chest for the kids like him, who didn’t have a costume. You picked up shifts at Melvald’s to pay for extra things around the holidays, working on weekends and nights when you could for some extra money. Gave up your own time so your kids could be happy; it made Eddie’s head spin in the best way.

You sat across from Eddie on the wooden picnic table, cradling the plastic tray of cut apples and caramel sauce. “So what’s your fall snack?” You ask, head tilting gently towards him.

“My what?” Eddie blinked.

“Your fall snack?” You grin, wiping your hands on the thin napkins. “Y’know, like when fall comes, what’s the one thing you crave? Like caramel apples or pumpkin bread…”

Eddie smiled, he could feel himself blushing. He didn’t even know why he was blushing, yet the heat still rose from his chest and crept up his collarbones. He hoped you couldn’t see how flushed he was under the streetlights.

“Uh, I don’t really… Oh, wait.” Eddie grinned. “Fried apple pie with vanilla ice cream.”

“Fried apple pie?” You lifted a brow.

“With vanilla ice cream.” Eddie nodded. “You ever had one?” You shook your head.

“Oh, baby, I gotta take you. When I was little, Wayne would take me to this Amish grocery store out past the quarry. He always got a pie there for Thanksgiving, and he’d get me a fried apple pie and vanilla ice cream. I don’t even like vanilla, but with that? Life changing, baby.” Eddie grinned, sighing. It was heavy but not sad… nostalgic.

“That sounds amazing.” You grin. “I love vanilla ice cream.”

“I know.” Eddie smiled. He had remembered that. This summer, after a movie date, he’d taken you to an ice cream parlor. You’d sat in the booth, giggling over melting cones- your vanilla, his chocolate.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll have to take you sometime.” Eddie nodded, eyes cutting to you carefully. “If you want to.”

“Yeah,” You smile, nodding. “We should go sometime. Bring Wayne back a pie.”

“God, he’d love that.” Eddie laughed. He’d love you even more than he already does, Eddie mused. The old man was already egging Eddie on, better buy her a ring, boy, she’s a keeper. Eddie knew you were. He’d started saving for rings after your second date, but he’d never tell you that.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight.” You hum, your own smile small, a little shy. “I know this isn’t like a great date or anything, but my kids like to see me. I like to see them.”

“No, it’s… I had fun- I’m having fun.” Eddie stuttered, a little nervous. Did he look like he wasn’t having fun? Fuck, he was, he really was. Maybe he should have played it up with the kids, he just didn’t want to take away from you. They were your kids and he’d never want to step in front of you, steal your moment.

“Yeah?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. Eddie nods, brown eyes wide, curls bobbing. “I’m having fun with you too.” Eddie thought he might pass out.

“They were so cute, all their little costumes.” You smile, chin resting on your palm. “They get to dress up two times so I know they’re just over the moon.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Halloween party is Tuesday, right?” Eddie asked. He knew when it was, he was going to have to clean overtime for all the Halloween parties.

You nodded. “I can’t wait for you to see my costume.” You grin, brows bouncing playfully at him.

“I can’t either.” Your smile is contagious to Eddie, leaving him grinning and swooning. “You gonna go all in?”

“No,” You shook your head. “Just a costume. Nothing fancy. The kids like it, so…” You trail off. “It’s not new or anything, I wear it every year, but you’ve never seen it so new to you.”

“I can’t wait.” Eddie smiled, knee bouncing under the table.

“Are you going to dress up?” You asked, lashes fluttering towards him sweetly.

“No,” Eddie scoffed lightly. “I mean, I wasn’t going to. Don’t really have anything. Guess I could wear my Michael Myers mask with my coveralls?”��

You laugh. “Yeah, think you’d really scare the kids.”

“That’s the point, right? What you’re supposed to do, right? Scare the shit out of them.” Eddie smirked.

“Might get fired, but worth it, right?” You jest back.

“Definitely worth it.” Eddie nodded. “Maybe I’ll wear the old coveralls in there. Say I’m dressing up as Sal.”

You laugh. “That would be really funny, actually.” Your eyes shone under the lights, bright and dazzling back at Eddie.

“Yeah? Alright, I’ll do it then.” Eddie nodded. “Sorry it’s not a surprise.”

“That’s ok. Mine will be more than worth it.” You smile confidently at him.

“I know it will be.” Eddie said quickly, eyes widening. Fuck, had he said that outloud? His eyes widened slightly, watching you carefully- bracing himself for the inward cringe, the snarl, things he was used to in the past. Not from you. No, all that came was a shy smile, chin ducking down to hide your flushing face.

“You want one?” You ask, breaking the silence with the slide of your tray towards him.

“I’m ok.” Eddie shook his head politely.

“C’mon, I know you want one.” You press lightly. “You paid for them.”

“Yeah, for you.” Eddie countered, giving you a pointed look. “But if you insist.” He hummed, grabbing a green apple, scooping a glob of caramel on it.

“Would never want to deprive you.” You wink, and Eddie nearly chokes on the chewed apple he’s swallowing.

One of your kids passes by, waving goodbye, holding their tired mom’s hand. You wave back politely to both of them.

“Hey, uh,” Eddie starts, sweaty palms rubbing down his jeans. He knows it’s the end of the night. You don’t have any plans further, not yet anyways. “Do you- You like scary movies?”

“Depends.” You hum, tossing the empty plastic away in the trash bin. “How scary are we talking?”

“Not crazy.” Eddie slides in beside you, arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. The rides and music are dying down, the Hawkins’ PTA lingering behind with large trash bags, loading station wagons. “Pumpkinhead?”

“Never seen it.” You shrug lightly. Eddie’s shoulders deflate, heart racing- should’ve said Carrie, he fuckin’ knew it.

“But I’ll watch it with you, if that’s what you’re asking.” Your eyes meet his, grip tightening around your shoulders.

“Are you sure?” Eddie falters. “I mean, I was just- we don’t have to.”

“No, I think that sounds nice. Very on theme for the night.” You smile, leaning into his side, your steps in sync. “One condition, though.”

Anything. “Yeah, what’s that?” Eddie swallowed, trying to fight back his smile.

“I get to put M&Ms in the popcorn.” You point at him playfully. “Non-negotiable, Munson.”

“Done.” Eddie shrugs, fishing for his keys. “M&Ms in popcorn, huh? You’re that typa girl?” Unlocking your door, pulling it open for you.

“You know I am.” You quip, sliding under his open arm, tossing him a wink before he shut the door.

Eddie was buzzing with excitement, a dopey smile on his face, too lovestruck to even care. An hour later, you were pressed into his side, head on his shoulder, a bowl of hot popcorn with M&M's scattered inside between the two of you. Eddie hoped you couldn’t feel how he got hard when your hands brushed in the bowl.

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