#and convenience for those with screen readers

[notmyneighbor]

A New Neighbor - Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader, Francis Mosses x Nacha Mikaelys

Chapter 1

Word Count - 6.5k

Rating - Explicit

Content Warnings - cheating, pervert Francis Mosses, reader is an 18 yo highschool student and the new babysitter, fondling, masturbation

Also available on AO3

Things aren’t going well with Francis Mosses’ girlfriend Nacha Mikaelys.

The milkman is trying to make things work; he truly sees it that way. Their daughter Anastacha certainly wasn’t planned, but he’s not the type to shirk his duties. An unwed mother carries a certain stigma and it’s not really fair when he’s partly responsible for the situation they’re in. So they’d moved in together. Claimed they were engaged to be married, though it was clear neither of them had any intentions of tying the knot. The resentment on both sides is clear. This was never supposed to be a long term, committed relationship. They weren’t particularly compatible. Yet here they are. Friends at the best of times, but those times were coming fewer and farther between. More like roommates that tolerated each other now. Barely tolerated. Conversations strained. Tempers short. He feels like he was suffocating, trapped. He knows she feels the same way.

Nacha wants to resume her career as a chef now that Anastacha is in elementary school, and that means a babysitter will be required to make up the gap between Francis and his girlfriend’s upcoming shifts. He’s not so much a product of his time that he doesn’t believe in women working outside the home; he actually thinks it will be good for her to pursue something she enjoys. So he readily agrees to the idea, wondering whom they’re going to hire.

These are difficult times.

Trust is hard to come by, when you don’t know whether the face you’re staring at is really your neighbor or not. The doppelgänger situation wasn’t just something you heard about on the news in some distant city anymore. It was here. It was real. Just last week someone downstairs had been killed, the previous doorman guarding the entrance a little too lax in his duties.

The demand to inhabit a DDD secured residence was high no matter how derelict in their duties the individual screening at the door was, and Francis had heard through the rumor mill of the crowded building that a father and his daughter were already moving in. He was a college professor. She was an older teenager, eighteen, finishing up highschool. She might be a good option to watch Ana. He’d have to meet her and see. He’s sure Nacha will want to as well.

Today is the day the new residents are moving in, he thinks. Or was it Wednesday they were slated to take up residence? Wait, was today already Wednesday?

Francis rubs the bridge of his nose and massages his tired eyes. He’s almost done his delivery route. Not even his busiest day, the schedule almost half of what it will be tomorrow, and he already can’t wait for it to be over. He’ll stop by to introduce himself on the way home, get a feel for things. At the very least it was the proper thing to do, welcoming someone to the neighborhood. If things didn’t work out, well, they’d just have to keep looking for a babysitter.

***

Francis always takes the elevator when he returns from his shift.

The thought of climbing up three flights of stairs just doesn’t appeal to him most days. Not after so many deliveries. He supposes he should be glad so many people still lacked proper refrigeration and relied on him for fresh dairy products. Job security, they called it. He used to have to solicit customers, years ago. It was an expected part of the job. The invasion had changed all of that, though. Demand more than enough without seeking additional business. It wasn’t even about convenience anymore. People were becoming more and more afraid of leaving their homes.

A heck of a lot riskier than it used to be, visiting so many residences. You never knew who—what—was really on the other side of the door nowadays. Before, he used to complain about having to collect payment from customers that were behind. Now that task seemed paltry in comparison to the daring just delivering goods involved. Even the increased pay doesn’t quite cancel out the threat of the doppelgängers lurking around every corner.

He actually forgets to present his entry request that afternoon after fumbling his ID card out of his wallet, a battered leather billfold that’s seen better days but he can’t be bothered wasting money to replace it. Besides, it takes time to break a new one in. This one is creased and comfortable. It had lasted him this long, it would service him a little longer.

The new doorman frowns suspiciously and he hurriedly reaches for his clipboard, sliding the request free from its position tucked at the very back of his address list. He tries a smile that is not returned, the DDD’s recently hired guard perusing the offered document before squinting at something just to the left of the window. He knows he’s on the day’s expected entry list, so he’s not worried about that. But he did already arouse suspicion, neglecting to present his excuse for his departure from the apartment building. He hears the receiver of the black rotary phone lifting and his heart sinks. The doorman really isn’t buying that he was just a milkman returning home from work. A very human, normal person.

Francis tucks his clipboard back under his arm, his free hand tapping nervously against his work pants. He can hear the dial tone, the lack of a response. Of course no one was home. Still a relief, though. If the doorman had inadvertently already let a doppel in, a stranger wearing his face now taking up his residence, lying in wait, while he himself was condemned to execution by the DDD disposal team…he shudders to think of that scenario.

Without a word his identification card is slid back to him, the request filed away. It seemed silly to have to keep making them out on a daily basis, but that was the procedure. He hears the door buzzer signaling he’s free to enter the building and he sighs in relief again, nodding gratefully before ducking through.

The elevator doors slide open and the tired delivery driver steps inside the carriage and presses the button for the third floor out of habit, leaning slightly against the rear wall of the car. He’s really exhausted today, and the week is only halfway done. Maybe he should have a few customers taken off his route.

Wait. Had he pressed the third floor button? He was supposed to be going to the second, to meet the new neighbors. With a mournful sigh he thumbs the correct button and the doors close, shielding his view of the familiar stretch of navy blue doors on the floor he resides on. Every floor was similarly color coded: pistachio green for first, tangerine orange for third. He doesn’t think there’s any real significance to the chosen palette. Every apartment was furnished identically as well, everything provided with utilitarian pieces. In some respects, he thinks it makes things a lot easier. Nacha didn’t agree. She insists on adding decor and personal touches to make it feel unique, more like their own. He lets her have free reign over that department; he hardly has any decorating expertise. If it was entirely up to him, his sole decision would be to leave it just as it was when he’d moved in. Simple was best.

The elevator doors part on the correct floor this time, and he immediately sees a pile of boxes and luggage outside a door just across from the elevator. So the rumor mill had been correct. Today was the day.

Moving boxes is the last thing the tired delivery driver feels like doing just then, but it’s as good a way as any to break the ice. He raps his knuckles on the edge of the moulding, announcing his arrival. The door opens and he’s greeted by a pleasant looking middle aged man who looks very confused to be greeted by an empty handed milkman.

“I didn’t order anything…”

“Oh! No, I’m sorry. I’m not here for a delivery. I just got home from work and wanted to introduce myself. My name is Francis Mosses. I live upstairs with my girlfriend and daughter.” He offers a hand and the man shakes it. He has a strong, confident grip and an easy smile.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Need a hand with this?” He gestures towards the stack beside him.

“That’s very kind of you, but you certainly aren’t obligated to.”

“Not a problem. Moving is a big job. Is your daughter here?” He asks curiously, lifting one of the suitcases and wincing a little at the unexpected weight.

“No, she’s in school. She’s a very dedicated student. It’s fortunate we’re still close enough to where we lived before so she didn’t have to transfer to another so late in the school year. She’ll be home soon. That’s her luggage you've got there,” he adds, looking sympathetic.

“Feels like she packed everything and the kitchen sink,” Francis jokes, and the man cracks another smile. He likes him already. Hopefully the daughter would prove just as affable.

“Just set that in the living room for now. I apologize for the mess,” he says over his shoulder. “My daughter is the one for the knack with organizing things. Must have gotten it from her mother, God rest her soul. Lost her during childbirth. It’s always just been the two of us. I could never quite bring myself to move on,” he adds softly.

The third floor resident offers a sympathetic sound, waving away the man’s concerns before he heaves the heavy suitcase onto the couch. If he knows anything about women, he imagines it’s jam packed with clothing. Nacha’s outfits took up more than half of the closet in the bedroom. It’s a good thing he didn’t have a large wardrobe himself.

Francis returns to the hallway and he and the new neighbor steadily begin demolishing the pile, chatting amicably. He doesn’t envy the man the task of unpacking all of this. He isn’t even sure they’ll be room for this much stuff. The apartments were moderately sized.

“Ah, here she is! This is our neighbor from upstairs, Mr. Francis Mosses.” The introduction accompanies your entrance through the front door, the backpack hooked over one shoulder settled beside the luggage on the couch before turning your attention to the visitor.

You shake the stranger’s hand and survey the state of the interior of the new living space, looking a bit overwhelmed. “Dad, I told you to wait. I was going to help,” you say, and he can hear the good natured, long suffering patience you must have to exhibit living with the widow in your tone.

“I know, I just wanted to get a head start.”

“Just wait before you touch anything else, okay?” It sounds like the roles are reversed, with you being the mature adult and your father looking the part of the bashful child. You smile apologetically at the milkman, making for the boxes lining the kitchen counter first. “I’m sorry we don’t have anything to offer you, we still need to pick up groceries. Just seemed foolish to have even more things to carry. Worried about food spoiling, you know…” Your voice trails off as you tuck a stray strand of hair behind one ear. Well mannered. Pretty. You had a nice smile. Nice everything if Francis was being honest, but he was very firmly trying to deny his initial assessment of your appearance as you’d walked through the door wearing a school uniform, still trying to conceal how much he was admiring the shape of your figure in a plaid skirt that was maybe a touch too short, the way the button front white blouse and navy cardigan hugged your curves so neatly.

Or maybe it wasn’t too short at all. Maybe it was just the right length, he thinks, watching you bend over to pick something up your father had dropped, stubbornly ignoring your advice and diving into the contents of one of the boxes.

Jesus, Francis. Perverted much?

It had been awhile since he’d last been intimate with Nacha. A long time. So far back he can’t even remember. That part of their relationship had just fizzled after the baby, becoming a rare occurrence if they both just happened to be in the mood. More a matter of convenience and availability, certainly nothing romantic or passionate. And now here he was, lusting after a girl he didn’t even know who was barely into adulthood. Someone he’d intended on asking to watch his own child.

“I, um, don’t want to take up too much of your time. I just wanted to say hi. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thanks for stopping by. And the assistance. Extend our greetings to your girlfriend and daughter.”

“I’ll do that.”

Did you look a little displeased when your father mentioned these two females you lived with? Or had he only imagined that scowl that was there and gone fast as a passing summer rainstorm?

“See you around,” you call after him, and the milkman cannot get on the elevator fast enough, hurriedly pressing the button to return him to the third floor.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

***

Nacha visits the new neighbors before the week ends, inviting them to dinner.

Francis hasn’t said much about his first impressions. His girlfriend certainly seemed to approve. She never invited people over.

Maybe it would be okay. Maybe it had just been a fluke. Just raging hormones and unsatisfied needs making him react that way.

It had been the guiltiest jerk off he’d ever had in his life after meeting you for the first time.

The only saving grace was he was home alone when he’d done it. Thankfully Nacha had been out visiting her parents with Anastacha at the time. A rare moment of peace and quiet that had instantly filled with thoughts of you. Very inappropriate thoughts.

He’d still locked himself in the bathroom, just to be on the safe side. She wouldn’t be home for a couple of hours according to the note, but still, better to be safe than sorry.

Stupid, waiting to clean the pipes this long. No wonder….fuck.

When you had bent over to retrieve whatever kitchen utensil your father had clumsily dropped…That image alone would have been enough, but his mind is already shoving that innocent movement into something much more depraved, with you bent over in front of him instead. His cock had already been flushed and leaking when he’d dragged it free of its enclosure, stroking the sensitive organ and hissing in pleasure. It was so hot. He was on fire. Those sexy lips of yours. Maybe he wants you on your knees in front of him instead, wrapping that mouth over his prick. Choking you on it. It wasn’t bragging, simply stating a fact. He knows he’s larger than average, thicker and longer than many. Girls had always been surprised and appreciative. He’d love to see the look on your face the first time he exposed himself to you. He’d wondered if you had a boyfriend. How far you’ve gone. Still a virgin, maybe? Waiting for marriage like a good girl?

Fuck. He’d been throbbing. There was no way he’d been able to prolong the session. He’d fucked his hand wishing it was yours, any part of you, envisioning bathing you in a load that jets out in reality moments later, thick creamy wads spurting onto the bathroom sink. His free hand grips the counter in a white knuckled grasp and he looks at his appearance in the mirror while his hips still spasm even after he’s removed his hand from his pulsing cock. Flushed. Perspiring. The almost bruised looking smudges beneath each lower eyelid now underlining blown pupils. He should have been ashamed.

It had only made him want you more.

***

“How are you enjoying the apartment so far?”

Nacha had cooked enough food for an army, crowding the table with dish after dish. For all her flaws, Francis couldn’t deny she had true culinary talent. Baking was her passion; that’s how they had met, in fact. Delivering dairy products to the shop she’d worked at. A little flirting on both sides. And then, well…

“Still getting settled, but it’s been good so far. A much safer neighborhood than where we lived previously,” the college professor remarks, responding to the hostess’ query.

“The new doorman seems to be very strict. I feel a lot safer,” she agrees, cutting into the casserole on her plate and mulling over the bite. It was a habit for her. She always took her time eating, judging what ingredients she’d used, deciding what worked and what could be improved upon.

“Can I have some more juice, Mommy?”

“When you’ve finished what you have, yes.”

Ana quickly polishes off the contents of her glass. She’s been staring at their female visitor all throughout dinner, clearly fascinated by the older girl.

“I’ve got it,” you say, offering to refill the child’s glass. She smiles and Ana breaks into a grin that’s in that awkward transitioning stage between baby and adult teeth, a few gaps noted here and there. You were already getting along so well.

Francis had been hoping you wouldn’t. It would make things so much easier. Removing temptation. No need to ever go to the second floor again. Perhaps there would be the occasional paths crossed on the elevator, but that would be it.

He has barely spoken the entire time. He’s very pointedly not looking at you in the pretty floral button front dress you’re wearing, your hair freshly styled, skin natural and clear of makeup, just the way he likes. Nacha always wore such dark lipstick and heavy mascara, attempting to cover her freckles with powder and concealer. He wishes she wouldn’t. He’s mentioned it before, as politely as he can. But she doesn’t agree with his preference. She’s wearing it right now. The modest dress is so old it’s nearly out of style. She’s definitely not trying to impress anyone.

“This is delicious, Nacha,” the male guest remarks after she’d insisted they be on a first name basis.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it. It’s a new recipe. I might still tweak a few things in the future…” Her voice trails off thoughtfully, then she turns her attention to the young woman seated across from her. “So do you have any activities after school? Senior year is so exciting.”

“I’m on the year book committee and I take piano lessons.”

“I wish I could play a musical instrument. Just never seemed to get the hang of my mother’s piano,” Nacha murmurs wistfully. She pauses, then nudges Francis under the table. This was his cue to inquire if she’d be interesting in babysitting.

He clears his throat loudly, suddenly parched and grabbing for a drink, his hasty fingers nearly knocking the glass over. “We were wondering, if you have time, of course. Understandable if you don’t.” Another nudge, this one firm enough to leave a bruise. “If you wouldn’t be interested in babysitting for us. Nacha is going to be going back to work and there’s a slight discrepancy with our schedules…” Suddenly the words that had been so difficult to utter come spilling out like a guilty man confessing his crimes to the authorities. And oh, was he guilty. His eyes finally meet yours directly, shifting from the point he’d fixed on somewhere near your face, the striped wallpaper on the wall behind you substituted for your features. He feels his body responding immediately, a slight tightening in his trousers that makes him shyly glance away again. Damn it. Masturbating the other day hadn’t taken the edge off at all. What was it about you that made you so irresistible?

“I’m interested,” you reply, and he feels his gaze dragged forcefully back to you. No, he shouldn’t have looked. But he can’t help it. He really can’t. Magnet and iron filings. Moth and flame. The attraction is too strong.

He lets his girlfriend iron out the details like the times and days that work for everyone involved after your father readily agrees to the proposal, stating you’ve always been good with your niece who’s a similar age. A real natural at childcare. Dessert follows after you graciously help Nacha clear the table, a homemade chocolate cake and coffee for the adults, milk for Ana and you, per your request.

The milkman feels your eyes on him again. You’re lifting the glass to your lips, that creamy white substance leaving behind a stain on your upper lip that you quickly lick away, your tongue darting out and stroking over the pink arches. Francis nearly chokes on his bite of cake. It has to be deliberate, right? Or was it really completely innocent, and it was his own sick, twisted brain making it seem like the teenager was flirting with him?

It’s a relief when it’s his daughter’s bedtime and Nacha decides to show you her routine, in case you’ll be there late one night if they ever decided to go out or were otherwise occupied. A little more bonding time for you and his daughter. Your father’s already drawn him into a conversation that distracts him, lets him calm down, the bulge in his pants easing. There’s a nervous moment when you’re parting at the door, the scent of you and your close proximity suddenly threatening to reveal his perversion again, but then you’re gone and it’s just he and his girlfriend once more.

He’s surprised when she begins stroking his shoulder after retiring for the evening, a signal that hadn’t been used in ages. Even more surprising when he responds to it. You don’t resemble Nacha in any way, but maybe that’s better. In the dark, it’s easier to pretend the warm body he presses beneath his is actually yours. The chef had gained weight during the pregnancy that had mostly been shed again, some residual softness still clinging to the middle even after all this time. An idea warps this into your own belly stretched for him. Francis keeps his face tucked into the side of his girlfriend’s neck, huffing softly. You’d be tighter than this. Wetter. He knows it. Those eyes. Those lips. He’s moaning, too loud, he knows.

“Francis,” Nacha cautions. “You’ll wake Ana.”

Your lip stained in white at the dinner table. Your tongue. He wants to lick it off you. Lick every inch of you. Dump an entire bottle of chilled milk over your warm body and lap away. Fuck. Too good. The imagery is too vivid. He pulls out just before he climaxes, spilling semen over Nacha’s torso and abdomen, then flops down beside her. He has no idea if she’s still taking birth control. He’s hardly going to risk getting the mother of his child pregnant again.

There’s a sigh from the other woman. She hasn’t orgasmed. She hates cleaning cum off of her body. Francis bets you’d enjoy it. Rub it in. Encourage him to spread even more on you. He wants to make you cum. He wants you.

The mattress creaks as his partner leaves the bed to go wash up in the bathroom. His elevated pulse and respirations are gradually slowing, returning to normal. He shifts his pajama pants back into place, dragging them back over his hips.

It takes Nacha a long time to come back to bed. Maybe she’d finished herself off in the bathroom. Did you ever touch yourself?

It’s the final lewd thought he ponders before he drifts off to sleep.

***

A week passes. Nacha’s returned to work, this time at a restaurant. Not as many opportunities for creating the baked goods that had been her previous passion, but still a step in the right direction before a better opportunity presents itself.

Francis arrives home a little past four that afternoon, finding you on the floor in the living room with Anastacha. You were helping her color a picture of a rainbow, your shading much neater while the elementary student’s scribbles tended to veer outside the lines. You're both lying on your stomachs, your knees bent, ankles crossed in the air, swaying up and down a bit. A position he’d seen Ana adopt countless times. You, though…

“Daddy!” His daughter scrambles to her feet, running over to give him an enthusiastic hug.

Your eyes lift to meet his as he tousles her hair playfully. “Hi, Mr. Mosses. How was work?”

“Fine. It’s Francis,” he reminds you, although he’s not certain it’s such a good idea to encourage that informal address.

“When is mommy coming home?” The first grader tips her head back, regarding her father.

“Late. Remember I told you? You’ll be in bed before she gets home. It’s just you and me, kiddo.”

“Will she come kiss me goodnight?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Can she stay? She’s helping me color.” She points to you and the crayon scrawled picture.

“I see that. It’s very nice. But she can’t stay. She has homework to do, I’m sure. She’ll be back tomorrow.”

The pout on the young child’s face softens. She’s got his eyes, there’s no denying it, but every other feature inherited is her mother’s. The button nose ceases scrunching up and she shrugs her thin shoulders in acceptance.

“Can I have a snack?”

“Not now. It’s almost dinner time,” he says gently.

Unlike Nacha, Francis hated cooking. Thankfully she’d prepared for this, leaving leftovers in the fridge to reheat for supper tonight.

The milkman watches you gather the crayons back into the box, handing the picture to Ana after you push yourself to your feet. “We’ll finish this tomorrow, okay?”

His daughter nods. You slide back into your cardigan, blocking the view he’d just had of your brassiere very visible beneath the thin material of your school blouse. Was that lace he had caught a glimpse of?

“Would you mind walking me downstairs? I’m still a little nervous being on my own.”

It seems like the most innocent of excuses, but Francis is more convinced than ever it’s anything but. He hesitates, eyeing his daughter. The entire point of hiring a sitter was so she wouldn’t be left alone. Now he was going to be doing that very thing.

“Isn’t your dad home?”

“No. He’s teaching a night course.”

The milkman’s heart sinks. Alone. You were going home to an empty apartment. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Ana, daddy’s going to walk your babysitter home, okay? I’ll just be downstairs. You know to keep the door locked until I get back. And the secret knock so you know it’s me.” It was the most innocent way to teach the child about safety. An absolute necessity with the added threat of the doppels around.

“Ok, daddy.” She’s already found her next task to occupy herself, plopped now in front of the television. Too close to the screen, as usual.

He reminds her to sit further back, then turns to you. “Ready?”

You nod and he escorts you to the door. The brief ride on the elevator is silent. It’s the middle of February, and the heat in the building isn’t that good, but he’s already perspiring. His fingers twitch nervously. You’re standing so close beside him your sleeve brushes his.

The carriage halts and the doors slide open. You’re already digging in your backpack for the key. He knows he should turn and flee, right now. Get back to Anastacha. Make dinner. Forget all about you.

Instead he hovers just behind. You push open the door, immediately toeing your shoes off, little polished dress ones with thin black laces. “You want to come in for a minute? Have a drink?”

Oh, he does. He definitely does.

Francis steps inside and closes the door behind him, securing the deadbolt. It locks with a severe cracking sound of metal being driven forcefully together. You move to the fridge, bending slightly as you survey the options, listing each one to him.

It’s over. Doomed. The most cliché thing ever. The babysitter. Really? Fourteen years his junior. Only eighteen. Still in highschool. Fuck.

“Water’s fine.” His mouth is dry, his throat parched. He actually needs the moisture. He’s already pitched a tent, immediately obvious. Impossible to ignore. Your eyes have already spotted it after you straighten, shutting the appliance door. A faint flush in your cheeks. He recognizes the way your pupils have dilated, that signal of desire making the dark centers pool and spread until there is just the thinnest bit of iris encircling each. Your chest rises rapidly, you lips parting slightly, seeking an alternative source of air. “Tell me to leave,” he says, and it’s a plea, something dredged against his will from the depths of his soul that he barely manages to utter.

“No,” you say softly.

He steps closer, crowding you against the sink. His hand reaches out, settling on the side of your neck, shrouded beneath the fragrant curtain of your hair.

“Tell me to stop.”

His chest actually hurts, his heart is pounding so fiercely.

“No,” you deny him again.

His mouth brushes yours. Velvet. Your lips are absolutely plush, pliable. Peach skin. Sweeter than, when his tongue dips inside those parted wedges to taste the ambrosia nectar within.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he pants, and it’s his most desperate urge yet; his last resolve, his last shred of decency hanging by a thread.

“Francis,” you gasp, one hand sliding down to when he needs you most. A place you shouldn’t touch. But oh, how he needs it. His body is already responding, hips grinding against that delicate hand, pushing you further into the sharp edge of the counter. He can smell the last vestiges of the lemon dish soap in the sink behind you, a brief waft of clean citrus before his mouth crushes yours, drinking you in more deeply.

I tried to resist. I didn’t force you. You want this, too.

He’s kissed a few girls in his day. Your own experience level maybe not on par. There’s a certain awkwardness. Maybe from nervousness. But you’re a fast learner. The clumsier collisions of lips and tongue now meeting more smoothly as you map his own. He doesn’t even mind the accidental knocking of teeth, the inadvertent nip of his tongue. It just heightens the experience. Everything about you is the epitome of erotic. You’re gorgeous, sexy, perfect.

He’s got a handful of one breast curving against his palm now, that soft globe palpable beneath the layers of cotton shirt and the lace bra he’d spied earlier. Certainly nothing your father had picked out for you to wear. When had you purchased the lingerie? Did it make you feel wicked? Had you blushed in front of the shopkeeper? Did you choose it just for him?

The milkman is still grinding against your body. He could cum just like this, easily. Even without your hand there, sliding and squeezing. These motions unpracticed, just like the kissing. Maybe you were a virgin after all. His own prize to defile.

He should really guide you somewhere more comfortable. Couch, bed, anything. But that would mean moving apart from you, and he doesn’t want that. He can’t bear to separate from you at this point. The hem of your plaid skirt is gathered roughly in one fist and then he slides immediately to the center, finding your panties are made of the same material as your brassiere, a matching set. They have the stiff, scratchy feel of something new. You’ve definitely just gotten these.

You’re soaked.

His previous imaginings had indeed been correct. An absurd amount of arousal fluid leaks from the entrance his probing fingers skim across after dipping beneath the waistband. You’re making the most amazing sounds. He wishes he could record them, play them on repeat when you’re not around. He collects your slick on the pads of his digits and brings them back through your pert lips to your clit. You moan, low and gutteral, into his mouth. A filthy sound. Like animals, that’s what you’re behaving like. Frenzied and desperate to fuck. Your progress on opening his fly has been interrupted, your brain clearly short circuiting at his intimate touch, the pleasure proving too much of a distraction for you.

The older man’s saturated fingers glide over your pearl, drawing neat circles, as tidy as the coloring you’d done earlier. Refined movements. He swaps out for his thumb and sends his middle finger back through the dewy folds to tease your opening again. Pressing gently. Sealed tight. You haven’t even experimented here, have you? Not even so much as a tampon has ever breached this entrance. You whimper against his ear, your tongue darting out to taste the skin. Salted, no doubt. He was sweating like a man after a marathon. Nervousness. Excitement. Arousal.

“Francis,” you groan again, and the sound of it shoots straight through to his groin. You’ve finally got his pants open, dragging his cock out of his briefs. He’s watching your face as you do it. Sees your eyes widen. It’s going to be so difficult to stretch that virgin pussy over his prick. But he’ll manage it. He’ll manage.

Not today, though. There isn’t time. He hasn’t completely forgotten his other duties, the daughter waiting upstairs. Another time he’ll bury his face between your thighs before he introduces your womb properly to his dick. For now, he has to be content with shoving your panties down and rubbing his erection over your vulva, the fat mushroom head massaging your clit before parting the pink flesh of your sex and teasing your entrance, then back again, fucking against the slickness on the outside of your body. The angle and the height difference makes it difficult and he pauses only long enough to lift you and sit you on the edge of the counter, your ass dipping dangerously close into the stainless steel basin behind you, one arm keeping you balanced while his free hand continues manipulating his cock against your drenched cunt.

The kisses are as sloppy as your nether region now, whatever adroitness you’d acquired previously now forgotten in the wake of your desire. You’re keening and shaking.

“That’s it, baby girl. Cum for me,” the milkman croons encouragingly.

The hand curled around his neck tightens, gathering the ends of his hair and pulling them taut as you explode, the softer noises he’d elicited earlier now howls and whines. Your head flings back and he feels his cock finally surrender, shooting the load of cum that’s been building up, painting your abdomen and your pussy and your thighs, long spurts that recklessly splatter and slide down your soft skin.

He’s actually done it. He’d fucked around with the babysitter after your first day on the job.

Francis helps you ease back off the counter. You reach for the sponge resting on the back of the sink near the faucet, then think better of it, opting for paper towels instead, dampening them slightly before wiping away the traces of his indiscretion. He refastens his pants, taking a few paper towels for himself to wipe the sweat off his face and neck. Still panting slightly, still recovering. Coming down off the high of being intimate with you.

There’s guilt now, of course. Even though he technically hadn’t violated you. It wasn’t right, what he’d done to you.

But you’d wanted it, hadn’t you? He’d given you the opportunity to refuse him and you’d pulled him closer.

You’re the adult. You know better. Teenage hormones. You should have walked away.

Guilty, yes, but not nearly enough. And he can’t say he regrets it. Can’t fail to admit he’s already thinking about next time. There would surely be a next time.

He washes his hands. He can’t go home smelling like pussy, as much as he’d love to savor the taste and scent of you longer. He should have sneaked a sample before he’d cleansed them. Now they were just soapy and citrusy.

You walk him to the door.

“I have to get back,” he says, as if you’re unaware of the situation. Apologizing for the rushed nature of it all, maybe.

“I know.” Your voice is still soft.

He seats his hand on your cheek. Steals another kiss. It’s meant to be a brief parting one, but you’re already curling a fist into his work shirt, pulling him more tightly against your body. Unbelievably, his cock is twitching again.

“Baby girl, fuck, I have to go,” he reiterates, for himself as much as for your benefit. “I’ll see you soon.”

“My dad’s going to be home tomorrow,” you caution.

“Nacha’s only doing a half shift tomorrow. She’ll be home by five. It’s my long delivery day,” he murmurs regretfully. “I probably won’t get home until six or seven. The day after that is my lighter schedule. I’ll be done by three.”

You frown thoughtfully, then your features brighten. “Pick me up after school the day after, then? I’m staying late for yearbook anyway.”

Yearbook. Yes. Because you’re a senior. In highschool. Honestly, Francis.

“That’s a date, then. I mean, it’s not really a date,” he adds hastily.

“I know.” You stretch to kiss his mouth, this one more chaste, like he’d intended on doing previously. “I’ll see you then. I’ll wait out front by the main entrance.”

“I’ll be the guy in the delivery truck with the cow on the side.”

“Got it. Except…how do I know you’re not, you know, a doppel coming to kidnap me? Didn’t you mention a secret knock earlier?”

”Yes. It goes like this.” He creates a rhythm of staccato taps on the doorframe. “And you answer with this.” A different series this time. “Try it.”

You have the sequence nailed by the second attempt. You smile and something stirs in him. Just a little something. The faintest hum of feeling. The genesis of a tiny affection. Then the milkman finds himself back on the elevator. Suddenly anxious, fumbling the keys in the lock of his apartment door after using the secret knock. He’s relieved to find Ana safe and sound, greeting him less enthusiastically this time, immediately returning to whatever television program she’d been engrossed in.

Nacha’s taped directions to the filled glass baking dish in the fridge. Temperature, time. He turns the dials on the oven.

“You were gone a long time.”

Francis nearly jumps, surprised to find his daughter beside his elbow.

“No, not really, honey. Just had a snack while I was there,” he says, hoping the casual statement will placate her.

“How come you can eat before dinner and I can’t?”

“Because you’re a little girl and you don’t have the same appetite I do. Want to help set the table? First person to finish gets to eat dessert first,” he adds with a smirk.

The little girl scrambles into action, yanking open the drawer that houses the cutlery and he sighs with relief. He’d gotten away with it, for now.

But what would happen in the future?

#francis mosses x you #francis mosses x reader #thats not my neighbor #francis mosses #milkman #milkman x reader #milkman x you #the milkman #that’s not my neighbor #tnmn fanfic #tnmn francis mosses #tnmn milkman #tnmn #tnmn smut #francis mosses smut #divider @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[ultimatepokemontournament]

I may not have gotten any volunteers, but this DID happen to coincide with me trying to learn how to use Illustrator, so I gift to you: I Voted badges.

These, of course, feature our 9 Generational winners, and since those tournaments are technically done, I think these apply! Thank you so much to everyone's who's participated so far, and I hope you all enjoy the Inter-Generational Tournament!

[Begin Image ID:

9 round badges with the faces of Bulbasaur, Umbreon, Mudkip, Leafeon, Chandelure, Sylveon, Mimikyu, Snom, and Clodsire. Each face is done in a simplified style and captures the design of the face only. The badges have a black border and in red, upper-case text, read "I VOTED. ULTIMATE POKEMON TOURNAMENT". Below the cut are the same badges but the text has been changed to be yellow and light blue.

/End Image ID]

#pokemon #gen 9 #gen 8 #<- for spoilers #badges #mimikyu and mimikyu only made me dig out my drawing tablet for the first time since 2019 so i could draw the scribbles #bulbasaur #umbreon #mudkip #leafeon #chandelure #sylveon #mimikyu #snom #clodsire #announcements #hopefully the image id being like that is ok... less chance for mistakes was my reasoning #and convenience for those with screen readers

[autumngracy]

Not me creeping up to the wordcount of the fourth longest book ever written

#A Reflection of Starlight #AROS #valvert #fanfic #writing #Hey I switched back to LibreOffice again after setting up my new computer #(RIP my old computer's installation of MS Office 2009) #And also my old computer in general as it is now giving me the blue screen of death upon boot #but ANYWAY #does anybody know how to make LibreOffice stop highlighting formatted areas? BC with Dark Mode it's highlighting white text #which makes it impossible to read my footnote and page numbers #Also I CANNOT believe this program was coded to be so that 'Ignore' and 'Ignore All' options only do so for the CURRENT SESSION ONLY #Like what in god's name??? #I spent 3-4 hours reformatting AROS after converting it only to learn that all the 'errors' I told it to ignore just popped back #the second I reopened the document like jesus christ #Why even offer those options if it doesn't do it permanently for that document file #HHHHHHHhhhhhhHHHHHH #I then spent another several hours being forced to change the language formatting to French for all the French bits #JUST so it would stop underlining all of them in red #And there's no way for me to get rid of the underlining on things like cut off bits of dialogue #bc they are NOT proper words and I refuse to add them to my Dictionary (thus polluting it) just to get rid of them #Ugh #So anyway remember years ago how I joked about what if I accidentally wrote a fanfic longer than the source material itself #That being one of the longest books ever written (technically THE longest book ever written #if we're counting the FRENCH version of it and not the English translation #And yeah I know I technically split AROS into 3 books but that was only for reader convenience #It's still one book in my heart #And also because I think it would be REALLY funny to surpass Hugo's wordcount #Which is entirely plausible bc in English it was only about 531k so I only a little over 100k off and I think I can easily make that #with the material I have left to write but is already mostly plotted out

[guardianspirits13]

Ok. I’m still trying to gather my thoughts and settle my hyperfixation after episode 3 of the Percy Jackson show, but one of my conclusions is that this is one of very few adaptations that actually understands the term ‘adaptation’ and furthermore what makes one successful.

On a fundamental level, understanding and respecting the source material is a must. You need to not just know the bullet points of the story, but you need to know the ‘why’s’- why does this story need to be heard, why do people like it, why does it stand out from the others in it’s genre, etc.

Second, you need to deconstruct the source material and piece it back together in a way that makes sense for the new format. Copy-pasting almost never works, since there will inevitably be discrepancies between the readers’ imagination and the adaptation that can distract from immersion.

Third, you need to provide something new. Why does this story deserve to be told in a different format? What can this add to the original themes of a story? What can we change to make the message come across more on screen? Will this dialogue really be as funny when it’s said out loud?

We’ve seen a lot of terrible “adaptations” of animation and books and musicals into movies/tv shows, and I think even among the better ones there is a dissonance between the desire to stay faithful to the source and the desire to make a good adaptation, with whatever changes that may necessitate.

I think while we’ve watched the casting of this series, the hints here and there, and final the premiere with bated breath, they’ve been playing the long game. They cast Walker as Percy before he was in the Adam Project. Many people expressed…unsavory…feelings when Leah was cast as Annabeth, but those of us that trusted the team behind this project- including the author himself- did our best to welcome her and were repaid tenfold with her performance in this episode particularly.

Most of the scenes in this episode were not at all how I imagined them in the book, but I adored it. They took what they were given and expanded on it. They created a mini-arc for the trio learning to trust each other. They gave Medusa a labyrinthine lair. Annabeth is a 12 year old walking into a convenience store for the first time in 6+ years with $200 in her pocket, of course she’s gonna buy as much as she can carry.

The love and care and artistry that went into this single episode brings me so much joy and gives me so much hope. Like I was already excited for a faithful adaptation, but seeing these characters come to life on screen, once you see their chemistry with each other and how they speak and push and pull at each other’s emotions, it has never been more clear to me the amount of care and foresight that went into this show.

Rick said that these kids are the characters he created and for like 2 years I’ve trusted that that was true, but today it was proven beyond the shadow of a doubt.

I am just…in awe.

#nothing but praise here #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo episode 3 #pjo tv #pjo tv show #adaptation #pjo meta #walker scobell #leah sava jeffries #rick riordan #percy jackson #jess’s thoughts

[wol-fica]

Tara giving reader head while gaming (gip)

summary - ^ (added some more stuff to make it spicier)

an - now i wanna go to my gfs house

—————————

“Babe?” You called, eyes focused on the screen in front of you, “Can you bring me my water bottle?”

It was a boring Monday afternoon, school being out due to the aggressive snow storm happening outside. You lived off campus, meaning it would be way too dangerous to drive on the icy and slippery streets of New York.

Conveniently, you had your gaming setup at your apartment, which meant you had entertainment for at least a little while instead of just sulking around bored.

Oh, and your girlfriend lives with you, what a plus!

Tara moved in with you about a year after your relationship started, being that she needed time to recover from ghost face and her older sister was not keen on you and her baby sister screwing around all alone.

Sam eventually caved though, and Tara was quick to pack up all of her belongings and move right into your space. Her decoration and tastes were soon mixed with yours, and you both fell into an easy rhythm of living with each other. It was nice to be able to wake up to her, and even nicer having her around whenever you needed her to be.

“Here baby.” Tara said, placing the water bottle on your desk and planting a kiss to your cheek, “How’s the game going?”

“Meh, this quest isn’t that fun.” You murmured, aggressively shooting down an enemy attempting to attack you, “Thank you for bringing me that.”

“No problem.” She replied, resting her hands on your shoulders and rubbing, “Do you know when you’ll be done?”

“Not sure, I don’t know how long this storyline will last.” You said, zoning in on hitting headshots on enemies, “Why? Do you need me for something.”

Tara hummed, leaning down so her mouth was by your ear. Her breath fanned out over your neck, tingling your skin with a warm sting.

“I do need you for…something.” Tara purred, licking along your jugular, “But you seem busy so I’ll just help myself.”

You shuddered, clicking to the pause menu before turning to her, “What do you mean?”

She smirked, walking around until she stood in front of your desk, and kneeled down. She grabbed the legs of your chair, yanking it forward until it was close enough for her chin to rest against your knee. She kissed the exposed skin of your thigh before scooching forward until she was face to face with your crotch.

“Play your game baby, don’t mind me.” Tara said, gazing up at you innocently while waiting for you to unpause your game.

You stared back at her for a moment, weighing your options before slowly bringing your eyes up to the screen and returning to the quest. Once the sound of your game resuming hit Tara’s ears, she eagerly undid the tie of your shorts and pulled the hem down enough to reveal your boxers.

You felt her fingers slip under the waistband of your underwear, and sucked in a breath when she pulled those down as well. She pressed a chaste yet calming kiss to your hipbone before leaning back and taking your tip in between her lips.

“Jesus.” You breathed, gritting your teeth at the small suction she was making with her mouth.

Your hands slid off of your keyboard, wanting to tangle into her hair, but she immediately slapped you away, sinking her teeth into your sensitive skin.

“FUCK!” You winced, looking down at her with wide eyes, “Tara!”

She gave you a look of warning that said “don’t do that again” before opening her jaw wider and taking a few more inches into her mouth. You watched with wide eyes as she hollowed her cheeks and began to suck rhythmically.

The feeling was incredible, being that Tara was an experienced girl and you haven’t had your dick sucked in such a long time that you almost forgot about how good it felt. She made sure to do it just how you liked though, running her tongue along your length and eagerly slurping you down.

She was soon deep throating you, the swollen head of your cock buried in the back of her throat. Your size caused her to gag a bit, but that didn’t stop her from swallowing.

Your orgasm came way faster than expected, building up quite quickly and causing you to loose your senses for a moment.

“Shit.” You groaned, letting the hot knot snap, your cum shooting down her throat, “F-fuck…Tara…”

“Shhh.” Tara murmured, giving your tip a gentle kiss before climbing up into your lap, “Let me take care of you.”

You gulped, inhaling sharply when she positioned herself above your saliva covered cock. She gave you a look, licking her lips before carefully yet swiftly dropping herself onto you.

Your eyes squeezed shut, mouth falling open with a guttural moan. She responded, grinding her hips down into you to feel your full length. Her breath was ragged, drawing in and out heavily while she adjusted.

“Keep playing.” She murmured, walls pulsing around you, “Finish your quest.”

“Tara.” You whined, wanting to hold her hips and help her ride you, but she glared at up at you, proceeded to lift herself up, and slam herself on your length.

“Keep. Playing.” She growled, rolling her hips left and right while you whimpered, “Or you’ll be in a lot of trouble later.”

You nodded with a bit lip, picking up your controller with shaking hands and proceeding on with your game. Once Tara was satisfied with your progression, she began to slowly ride you.

Her hips would rock back and forth on you, occasionally jerking forward and up to get a reaction out of you. A few small moans would slip past your lips, but her hand slid up to choke you, so you did your best to keep quiet.

“Good girl.” Tara panted, teeth clenched while she rode you, “Doing everythingI I say.”

You froze up, suddenly coming to your senses. Tara was a lot smaller than you, and you could easily pick her up and turn the tables on her, so why were you just sitting here and letting her ruin you? Should you just let her have her fun?

Nah.

You paused your game, setting your controller down on your desk. Tara stopped moving, raising her eyebrows at you and opening her mouth to scold you for not continuing to play, but before she could even get a syllable out, you flipped her around and bent her over your desk.

She gasped, a throaty moan following suit when you quickly reentered her. Her walls gave way to you, her pussy stretching open for your immense size while you forced her legs apart.

“MMM FUCK!” She moaned, gripping onto the edge of your desk while your hips drove into hers, “Y/N!”

“Shhh.” You cooed, nudging her knees farther apart, “Let me ruin you.”

She whined pathetically, eyes squeezing shut and mouth dropped open while you fucked her. One of your hands was in her hair, pulling and yanking at the fluffy locks, while the other was torturing her already abused clit.

Tara was being manhandled.

And she loved it.

“I know you’re close sweet girl, hold it just a little longer.” You whispered to her, planting a soft kiss to her cheek when she let out a cry of pleasure.

You drove your hips a little harder, grunting softly in her ear while you chased your own high. You reached the peak faster than expected, and pushed yourself as deep as you could go when your orgasm came.

“Go ahead, relax.” You coaxed to Tara, rubbing her hip when she let out a shaky moan from her own release.

You both were unmoving for a moment, breathing heavily in sync before you broke the silence.

“Thanks for riling me up.” You joked, pressing a gentle kiss to the nape of her neck, “Really got me going on you.”

“That was the goal.” She mumbled sarcastically, wiggling her hips against you in a teasing manner.

“Was it now?” You replied, holding back a moan when she purposefully clenched down hard on your cock.

“Yeah…wanted you to fuck me.” She turned her head back to you, still clenching and wiggling her hips, “You should keep going.”

You stared at her, weighing your options, before standing up and taking her hips in your hands. You drew your pelvis back, before letting loose and pounding yourself into her.

Her screams could be heard throughout your apartment the whole night, echoing down the halls and filling the space with sounds of arousal.

The neighbors weren’t happy, but who cares.

You still got some pussy.

——————————

surprise

taglist: @cartierdreamx@tundra1029@red1culous@vorsdany@andsoigotabutterfly@theafterofnevermore@yomomisgay@house-of-lovin@slvt4lanadelrey@thenextdawn@nepobaby08@dunohilly@somekindofpoet@alexkolax@cinffy23@pedrosprincess@amberfreemansburntface@myfturn

#tara carpenter icons #tara carpenter smut #tara carpenter imagine #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #jenna ortega icons #jenna x reader #jenna #jennaortegaedit #jenna ortega #jenna ortega fluff #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega smut #jenna ortega x fem reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you

[hxzbinwrites]

Vox x Emotionless! Reader | Ignorant In Love

(Lovestruck Part 2)

Warnings ⚠️: Cussing, Violence, Vox being annoying

————

4:30am

Vox woke up, yelping as he sprung out of bed. Not a great decision for his sore back as his clawed hand immediately went to brace it. Groaning, his eyes fluttered, attempting to recall what got him in such a tizzy waking up

Right. Another dream.

Vox had been, haunted, by that humiliating event last week. Even more so that he finally realize how incredibly enamored he was with her.

His screen flushing red at this realization of his current situation, Vox decided to rise out of bed. What good was sulking going to do?

Since that day, (Y/n) hadn’t smiled once more at him. Oh how he craves it. Vox acts like he doesn’t care, but he’s aching for another fix. Another high of seeing that smile. He would do anything and everything just to experience that euphoria one last time, just one drop of it.

Getting dressed for the day, Vox was looking at his bow tie collection, seeking out one of his favorite ties before realizing it had been ruined from the coffee.

Frustrated, he grabbed a random one from the pile, not really thinking too much about it as he put it on.

He stomped out of his quarters, his heels dramatically clacking against the floor as he made his way to his office. It was far too early in the morning for anyone to be active, too late for Val to be doing work (at least IN the office, and not at the club), so the quite walk gave his ever-running mind more time to think

What the hell has gotten into him?! He’s a VEE, THE VEE. If anything, this is woman should be loosing sleep and foaming over him!

‘That’s what I like most though’, He thought to himself,’She’s real. She doesn’t tell me just what I want to hear, or cause problems for me, she’s just…her, and she simply does it best.’

His internal conflicts were brought to an end once he finally sat down in his chair. Cracking his sore, aching joints, before booting up his monitor system.

————

8:30am

(Y/n)‘s heels clacked against the tiled floors, making her way to her desk. Her desk was one of those circular desks that curved around the middle and touched both sides of the wall. There was a small door on the side that she could enter from, but it blended in seamlessly with the black desk, so it would be hard for someone who didn’t work here on a daily to find.

Once she entered her cubicle-like desk, she logged onto her monitor, clocking in. 8:30am sharp, as always. She began to work on her boss’s meetings, but her eye caught a certain one for today “errand.”

This caught her eye, as Vox always made her run errands during work hours. Mostly for coffee, but she’s ran to the convenience store in the lobby for strange things as well.

“Hmm” she mumbled, before printing off the schedule regardless and putting it in her folder for later at 10.

That was her routine, print off the original schedule for the day, present it to him at 10, and if edits are needed, she’d come back and re-arrange some things, and repeat the process until it was to his liking.

(Y/n)‘s hardest part of the job was the PR portion of it. Normally, it’s for the PR team, but they got sick of the Vees tantrums and the entire department up and quit. Now, (Y/n) handles Vox’s PR, Velvette’s assistant handles hers, and Vox handles Valentino’s himself.

Speaking of PR, she was in for a doozy today. Last Friday, when the coffee incident took place, apparently Vox said some…choice words…to the Radio Demon, and Alastor relayed that information back to his listeners on his radio show.

Sighing, (Y/n) began typing a public rebuttal, going for the “deny and victim blame” strategy, as Velvette called it.

‘Why does Vox have to act so…stupid’ (Y/n) thought, her stoic face staying steady as her fingers flew across the keyboard,’For someone so smart, he sure acts dumb. Maybe he should just be a model for Velvette instead, he’s sure got the looks for it, but he doesn’t have the social skills for a public viewpoint like this-‘

“(Y/N). MY OFFICE. IMMEDIATELY.” Vox yelled.

Her eyes flicker up from her monitor, which was now adorned with two clawed hands gripping the top of it. Vox was leaning over it, his tall, slender frame allowing his screened face to intrude (Y/n)’s personal space, but it’s not like that hasn’t been done the before the weekend.

Locking eyes, he saw the flick of emotion run through her, he almost for a moment let his anger go, almost. He could hear her mumbling those things about him. About how “stupid” he was, his “dumb actions….how “he’s got the looks”….never mind that last part.

“Sir..?” She said, her face immediately turning back cold. Ah, there it goes again, fleeting like time itself.

“Don’t sir me,” Vox said, shoving the monitor who knows where. He crawled on the desk towards (Y/n), before grabbing her chin, pulling her towards him. The force from his arm made it where she was on her feet, but she was now hovering over her chair. Vox cocked his head at her, narrowing his eyes and he whispered towards her.

“I heard you mumbling about me over there. Insubordination will not be…tolerated, at this company. If you want to keep this job, and your soul, I suggest you meet me in my office.”

He let go of her chin, before sliding back off of her desk, and walking towards his office. Vox’s hands were clasped behind his back, as he glanced over his shoulder one last time to look if she was following him.

(Y/n) got up and started walking behind him, her face not giving away any emotion.

‘DAMN IT.’ He thought, his mood growing worse,’That whole little stunt was just to get a rise out of her. To get something!’

————

10:00am

Once they arrived in his office, the door slammed shut behind them. Vox’s electrical bolt from his fingertip locked the door, as he walked towards his chair, took a seat, and swiveled it around to see an unamused (Y/n) awaiting his words.

“So, (Y/n)” He started, his claws tapping against one another, “Would you like to repeat, word for word, what you were mumbling about me, or should I repeat it for you?”

“Okay, I asked myself why you acted so stupid. Your actions are ignorant and your social skills need heavy improvement.” (Y/n) said,”also, for your schedule today you have a meeting at-“

“No no no sugar.” Vox said, smirking as he crossed his legs,”Tell me everything you said.”

“I did” She lied, standing her ground.

“Ah, so Im not good enough to be a model anymore? That’s a shame, I would’ve loved to give you a show, but alas.” He sneered, trying to desperately to get a reaction out of her, but failing miserably.

“Ah, a shame indeed.” She said, deadpanned,”Now, todays schedule consists of one meeting with Valentino at 7:30pm and during your 3:30 slot all it says is ‘Errand’? Sir, I’m confused about that portion, don’t I normally run your errands..?”

Vox gritted his teeth, his hand now clenching the sides of his chair. This was getting ridiculous, no emotions out of this one. God, he should just pour an entire mountain of coffee on himself, muck up his PC and everything just to see her smile.

“I was originally planning to get my clothes back from the dry cleaners myself, but I see that as punishment enough for today. Do it and get out of my office.”

“A-Alright sir.” (Y/n) said. They locked eyes, and Vox immediately regretted pushing so far for a reaction. Her eyes showed hurt in them.

Vox couldn’t bring himself to say anything, his face contorted with many emotions. One side of him was over the moon, he made her show something! The other side was in immense regret, he didn’t want to hurt her, that was by far from the plan.

Once she left the office, he started throwing monitors again in frustration.

————

10:30am

(Y/n) didn’t even return to her desk, instead opting for a little stroll down to the convenience store down in the lobby. She picked up a drink and a candy bar to take back to her desk as a little pick me up

Well, she attempted to go back to her desk, she ended up just going to a secluded corner in the building, only adorned by a lonely bench, a plant, and a security camera in the hallway.

(Y/n) sat there on the bench, sighing from stress and she took a chunk of her candy bar.

Sitting there, she replayed the interaction in her mind once more. The way he was so, powerful, it made her cheeks dust pink, with equal parts admiration and humiliation as she smiled to herself, lowering her head. She softly chuckled before taking her wrapper of her snack and going to seek out a trash can.

Little did she know that Vox was watching her every move on his monitor, stalking every security camera that tipped off her motion. He was nearly short circuiting at her little smile. Vox noticed how her shoulders bounced as she chucked slightly. He really wished he could just call her into his office, but it was already time for her to pick up his dry cleaning. Sighing to himself, he adjusted his bow tie.

Out of his entire collection, he just had to pick the most irritating one out of all of them. It was entirely too tight and the material was so unpleasant.

Sighing, he just untied it and threw it on his desk, reveling a small sliver of his skin beneath it.

————

3:45pm

“I’m here to pick up Vox’s clothes.” (Y/n) said, making the worker scramble to go retrieve the Overlord’s clothes.

“H-Here you go ma’am! Do you mind checking to see if everything is in there? We don’t want to forget any article of our valuable costumer’s clothing!”

“Sure” She replied with her signature neutral expression, opening up the box of neatly folded clothes to see his entire wardrobe from that day, except something was missing…a key part of his ensemble.

“Ah, where is his bow tie?”

“Oh, did he not tell you? We had to return it to him, the fabric of it was too thin, it would’ve burnt up in the dryer.”

“Oh, well thank you.” (Y/n) said,”everything looks like it’s in order.”

“Have a good day!” The worker said, earning a nod from (Y/n) as she walked out of the dry cleaners.

‘He wore that bow tie often’ (Y/n) thought to herself,’ Maybe since I pissed him off earlier today, I can get him another to make it up to him.’

She strolled by the clothing district before entering the tailors shop, browsing the different selection of items for a while before the clerk cleared his throat.

“Ma’am, is there something I can help you with?”

“Ah yes, I’m looking for a bow tie with a certain fabric to it. It’s rather thin, I need a replacement.”

“You? A replacement?” The man chuckled, looking over at her,”I think I know which one you’re talking about, but I dare say I don’t think you’re in the tax bracket to be purchasing that.”

“I’ll purchase what I please.” (Y/n) retorted, her dead eyes looking into the man’s cocky ones

“Oh really? And who is this for?”

“Vox.”

The man started howling in laughter,”YOU?! FOR THE TECH OVERLORD?? OH PLEASE I-“

(Y/n) briskly walked over and slammed the man’s head down on the table.

“Yes. I suggest you make it quick due to your little interruption.”

“And why should I?”

(Y/n) gripped him by the hair, making his eyes meet hers,”Vox is my boyfriend, and so help me I’ll let him tear you limb from limb just because I said pretty please, now fucking do it.”

“Y-Yes ma’am.” He said, as she let go of his hair, he scrambled to the back room to give her a lavish tie. Instead of the navy blue one he had previously, it was near black with bright blue strips adorning the sides of the fabric where it curved in on itself.

“Hmm, this will do.” (Y/n) said, snatching the box before walking away.

“W-Wait, aren’t you going to pay?”

“Pay? You should be dead where you stand for messing with me today. This is your pay.”

And with that, she walked out of the store, leaving the man shocked.

————

8:00pm

Walking into Vox’s office, (Y/n) looked around to see Vox nowhere in sight.

“Ah right,” (Y/n) muttered to herself, despite the fact that very action got her in a tight situation with her boss earlier that day,”Meeting with Valentino. I’ll just set his stuff down here.”

(Y/n) looked around once more, before setting his clothes neatly on the desk. Patting it down to remove it of any lint that couldn’t accrued on the bag, before setting the nicely wrapped gift atop of it, adorning it with a letter signed to him.

————

9:00pm

Vox groggily walked back into his office, after his “productive” meeting with Valentino on his public image. Not a word went to that moth’s head. One ear and out the freaking other.

He closed his eyes, plopping down unceremoniously into his chair, not even bothering for the brooding dramatics this time.

Rubbing his eyes, he really contemplated calling it quits early tonight. But alas, Vox never does, that’s the mantra of a workaholic.

His digital eyes fluttering open once more, he gazed upon the clothes neatly laid there for him. Smiling he looked at it before his smile turned into confusion. Why was there a box? Wrapped with a ribbon…?

He slowly and gently grabbed onto the small box, unwrapping it like an inpatient child on Christmas morning, only to reveal a new bow tie, the one he ached for the entire day.

This one was nicer though, how she scrounged up some money to “buy it”, he didn’t know, but he was eternally grateful.

His eye caught the letter that was now sitting beside where the box was, it fell off when Vox took the box. He held the envelope and slit the seal with his claw like a letter opener.

“Dear Vox,

I sincerely apologize for this morning. I was out of line. I just don’t really know how to process everything. I feel like you’d understand being mechanical and all, but I don’t know how to process emotion.

Normally, I feel nothing towards anyone, but there’s something weird going on. This strangely warm feeling in my chest and my face, I feel clammy around you, and you specifically.

Feel free to ignore this, but here’s my number. Contact me if you are willing to help my predicament. Enjoy the gift regardless, you deserve it. Also, stop coming to work at 5 in the morning. You’re not sneaky, I see when you’ve clocked in on your schedule.

-(Y/n) (L/n)”

Vox was beaming, a pure genuine smile. He might be a lovestruck fool, but she’s ignorantly in love.

————

Word Count: 2,540

(Part 3?)

TAGLIST

@burningfishkidlamp

@koji-akeme

@callmechito

@neito327

@chocolat3pudding

@yellowsubiesdance

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox #hotel hazbin #vox x reader #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel vox #vox #vox hazbin hotel #the vees x reader #the vees #hazbin hotel vees #vee #vees

[ssahotchnerr]

Thinking about reader always sharing her water with Hotch to remind him to hydrate ehehe. She sets reminders to make sure he actually does hydrate and makes sure to tell the others to do the same as well

gentle reminders

here's everyone's reminder to hydrate!!! cw; established relationship, bau!reader, fluff!

if it weren't for you, the only liquid aaron would mainly consume would be coffee. in such a demanding occupation, especially at his high authority, it made sense.

had trouble sleeping or didn't get enough? coffee. dreading a meeting and needed to be rejuvenated? coffee. had no other choice but to stay up into the early hours of the morning doing paperwork? coffee. the list was seemingly endless.

as a result, you've taken it upon yourself to ensure dehydration didn't strike him, especially from all the dilution coffee itself produced. if he's drinking that much of it, he could at least counteract it by drinking equal the amounts of water. and regardless, he should be consuming more water to begin with; making it more of a habit. his usual excuse of 'forgetting', wasn't going to cut it anymore.

and if he's going to listen to anyone, it's going to be you.

you've preemptively set several reminders throughout the day to better aaron's water intake. your ringer was just loud enough - if tucked in your bag or drawer to gain only your awareness - mindful of it's possible obnoxiousness in the bullpen. if it were to go off loudly several times throughout the workday, it would surely be a reason for complaints. while out in the field, like now, you simply set it on vibrate.

the familiar buzz grabbed your attention, your eyes moving downward to your phone. the screen's lit; the notification of the reminder displayed in the middle.

conveniently, aaron happened to be seated at your left, discussing the geographic profile with spencer and the lead officer, narrowing down the unsub's comfort zone. you screwed open the cap of your water bottle, the seal producing a minor snap, and gingerly setting it down afterwards.

not wanting to interrupt, you simply tugged on aaron's sleeve to gain his attention. his eyes darted towards you in question, and slowly, you slid the opened bottle in his direction.

a gentle, amused almost-laugh puffed out of his nose, not surprised as this was routine at this point, and obeyed. once he managed to find a break within the ongoing conversation, did he grab the water and take a hearty swig. his eyes refound yours, flickering with a warm glint.

it caused your heart to flutter; aaron's eyes softening at your gesture. the quick switch between stoic unit chief, to simply aaron, was a near rare occurrence in the weighted atmosphere of cases, specifically while in the attendance of others. so when it did appear, a greater, more-than-usual surge of affection rippled through you.

but just as quickly as you noticed the lightness, it vanished. aaron's usual pensive expression returned, only his gaze pointed was at you this time, a silent push within it. you rolled your eyes in understanding and retook the bottle from him to take a sip yourself, holding back a smile.

aaron leaned back slightly in his chair, shoulders relaxing in satisfaction.

meanwhile across from you, dave was watching the whole exchange, a rather entertained expression on his face. "how romantic." he mouthed silently - when you noticed his stare.

all in fun, your eyes narrowed at him, before they flicked to his water bottle. with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, you crossed your arms and held your gaze, practically daring him, 'okay, your turn.'

dave's tongue clicked in disapproval, solely for his flair for the dramatics, and began cranking open his water. and spencer being as observant as he was, noticed too and urgently grabbed his water, knowing you would be grounding onto him next. he tucked it under his arm, planning to drink once he concluded circling locations on the map exhibited on the board in front of him.

and for those who currently weren't at the precinct - derek, emily, jj, and even penelope all the way back home - you seized your phone, firing off a quick text in your shared group chat: hydrate reminder!

aaron peeked at his phone as his text tone went off, lips tugging into a barely-there, adoring smile as he read the message. his hand found your thigh underneath the table, giving it a doting squeeze.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x you #criminal minds imagine

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

My baby, my baby… pt.2!

Summary: Leon is a man pushing 40 and you’re a girl in her early 20s. You confessed your feelings but things went south.

Warning: age gap. literally any older version of Leon. reader is young. female reader. smut. mentions of alcohol. unprotected sex. praise. fem receiving. gentle sex. CONSENTED. angst with happy ending?

a/n: I just ate buldak ramen and my asshole is so clenched rn. oh god wtf ts is not for the weak

(pt.1) (pt.2)

“You’re my baby, say it to me” - Mitski, I Bet On Losing Dogs

Days have passed since that kiss you shared with Leon. And it’s been hell. All you could think about was his touch, his cologne, his eyes… you fell hard for a man who could be your dad. And so here you were, drinking in your studio flat. You walked towards the nearest convenience store to buy the cheapest thing you could afford. Alcohol is alcohol, you thought. It all has the same effect in the end.

You were lying on your couch, drunk out of your mind. Crying and sobbing as you listened to Mitski and some other depressing artist you were so sure your neighbors could hear you but you didn’t care. What you assumed was the love of your life turned cold towards you. And you loathed that feeling. All you wanted was to be in his arms again. To feel those muscly arms hug around you as his soft voice whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

You really shouldn’t be trusted with alcohol and a cellphone because you made the mistake of texting Leon.

Leon was confused when he received a spam of messages at 2 in the morning. Who is their goddamn mind is still awake at this hour. Lo and behold, your name popped up on his screen. He let out a sigh as he clicked on the chat and began to read.

“I miiiiiissss uuuuu”

“pls, I need u :(“

“y r u ignoring me?”

“I thinkI committer tax wvasion”

Okay the last text made him worried. He knew something was up so he straight up just called you.

The phone rang in your hand and your eyes bulged out of their sockets, not literally. Your breathing quickened and you felt nervous. But you still answered, you put the phone on your ear and you swore you almost died from how hot and hoarse his voice sounded.

“Y/n…?” He spoke through the phone, his voice laced with sleepiness as he just woke up. If you weren’t wet, now you were.

“Leooooon, hi” you slurred. You mentally slapped yourself for sounding so stupid.

Leon sighed heavily as he heard your voice, “Y/n, you’re drunk. Where are you?” You could hear the sounds of rustling in the back as he got dressed and got his keys ready.

“Huh? Oh- uh… I’m at home,” you mumbled as your face grew hot.

“Text me your address,” he demanded in a serious but gentle tone as he hung up. And you couldn’t help but oblige. You sent him your address and waited patiently for him to come knocking at your door.

You fixed your hair and tried to look presentable even after crying all day. Your face was swollen and your eyes were red. So you went to your bathroom and washed your face, hoping the hyperpigmentation would disappear.

You rushed to your front door as you heard knocking. When you opened the door, Leon stood there looking godly. He was wearing grey joggers and a loose shirt. His hair was neat, given that his hair is straight as a door.

“Can I come in?” Leon asked after you stood there, staring at him in silence for a good two minutes. You mumbled a quiet sorry and stepped to the side to let him in.

When he stepped inside, he immediately spotted the bottles lying about on the coffee table. He let out a deep sigh through his nose and began to clean up your place. You quickly followed behind him and tried to stop him.

“Wait, Leon- I can do it,” you said as you took hold of Leon’s arm. He turned around and gave you a stern look. “Sit,” he commanded as he nodded his head towards the couch.

You wanted to argue, you really did but the way his voice seemed to have reached your head and pussy made you unconsciously walk over to your couch. You sat on it and watched as Leon cleaned your apartment, because that’s what coworkers do, right?

Once Leon was done with getting rid of the bottles, he turned to you and began to check your temperature. To be honest, you felt sober now that he was here.

“What are you doing?” You asked in a soft tone as he put his hand on your forehead. “Checking to see if you have a fever, do you feel drunk?”

You shook your head no, “No, I feel fine.”

Leon sighed and took his hand away from your forehead before settling down next to you. “Why did you text me?” He asked softly. You shifted in your seat as you tried to come up with a good excuse, “I was drunk,” you muttered.

He gave you a skeptical look, he wasn’t easy to fool, “Y/n, I know when you’re lying. Let me ask you again, why did you text me?”

You swallowed hard and focused your gaze in your hands in your lap, “I miss you…” you began slowly and quietly, almost scared to start crying, “I wanted to hear from you again. I wanted you.”

His eyes softened but he maintained his face composed. “Y/n…”

“I know what you’re going to say-“ you began, “That I’m too young and naive for you. But I really cannot help these feelings I have for you…”

Leon sat there looking at you in silence as your words settled in his head. He didn’t know how to tell you he felt the same. He inhaled sharply brought his hand to your chin and gently turned your head to look at him,

“My heart aches for you, my mind yearns for you all the time…”

He whispered softly, “I tried so hard to ignore you, to forget you. But you always manage to make me feel these things for you.”

You sat there, shocked at him. Is that how he felt? Did he actually feel the same way as you?

Leon noticed your shocked face and leaned down to kiss you softly. His lips tender against yours, a kiss so sweet yet full of love. When he parted his lips from yours, he stared down into your eyes with a gentle look.

“Leon, I…” Your voice was just above a whisper, “is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

Leon nodded at your words. He’s been avoiding you because he also loved you, the only difference is that he was scared.

You kissed him back, a little bit harder than when he kissed you but he didn’t mind. He moved his hand to the back of your head and pressed you against him, his tongue glossed over your lips and forced his way inside your mouth. His tongue swirled around against your tongue and moaned at the sensation of your hands moving towards his chiseled chest.

He gently laid your back down against the couch, your head resting on the armrest as he parted your legs with his knee and settled himself between your legs, caging you with his hands on either side of your head. He continued kissing you, moving from the ends of your lips to your jaw as he whispered, “I’ve wanted you for so long.” His lips settled down to your neck and began to suck at each spot, leaving hickeys where he wanted. You wrapped your hands around his hair and intertwined your fingers with his hair. You moaned as you felt him find your sweet spot. He smiled against your skin and began to sink his teeth a little bit, not too much so it wouldn’t hurt you. He continued sucking, lewd sounds being heard in the living room.

He moved on to the other side of your neck and repeated the same pattern.

Hickey, hickey, bite. Hickey, hickey, bite.

Your hand tugged at his hair as you moaned and squirmed under him. He pulled back from your neck and you whined in response. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he admired the masterpiece under him, “so perfect…” he muttered under his breath as he tucked your hair behind your ear.

“You’re so perfect, dear,” he whispered as he kissed you once again and let his hands travel under your shirt and caressed your waist and stomach. You let out a breathy moan as your hands explored his chest and shoulders.

He parted from the kiss and laid his forehead against yours as his hands held your waist gently. You stared up at his eyes and admired his features.

“Y/n…do you want this?” He whispered as he looked down at your eyes, trying to read your answer. You nodded, “I do.”

He smiled softly, “I’ll be gentle, I promise,” he leaned down to kiss your forehead before he slowly sat you up to take off your shirt. He pulled the fabric over your head and threw it on the floor. His eyes immediately went to your chest and he gently pushed you down the couch again. His mouth kissed to clavicle and collarbone before kissing the top of your left breast while his hands worked their behind your back and unclasped your bra with ease. He pulled your bra down your shoulders and torso slowly and threw it towards somewhere on the floor.

He pulled back and stared at your breasts, his hands sliding up to hold and massage your breasts in his hands. He leaned to kiss and suck one while his hand groped the other. His thumb and index finger tugging and playing with your hardened nipple as he swirled his tongue in the breasts he was sucking and kissing on. You arched your back and moaned softly. Rolling your head back against the armrest as his mouth worked wonders on your chest. God you tasted so sweet, your skin was soft and sugary. But he wouldn’t say that out loud, he’d hate for you to think he’s a cannibal. He just loved the way your skin tasted and loved the way your body smelled. It only aroused him more.

The bulge in his pants growing bigger against the constraints of the fabric pressed against your inner thigh. You felt his crotch rub against you and it only made you water down at your folds. “Leon…” you moaned out.

He pulled back from your breast, the cold air from the absence of his warm mouth hitting your nipple, causing you to shiver slightly.

“What is it, princess?” He mumbled softly as he caressed his hands down your waist.

“I need more…” you breathed out as you tried to move against his bulge. He held you down by your hips and whispered in your ear, “Patience, I want to treat you right.”

He kissed your lips, your neck, your check and down your stomach before kissing the hem of your shorts. His fingers hooking on them as he slowly pulled them down your legs. He stared down at your panties and saw the wet spot in between your legs, he couldn’t help but smirk as he knew you wanted him too.

He removed your panties gently, watching as the slick of your cunt reluctantly let go of the fabric that separated him and your pussy. He pushed himself between your legs, slowly blowing cold air at your clit and watched as you gripped on the cushions of the couch. He brought his fingers down your folds and slowly dragged them up and down, not entering your eager entrance yet. With one hand, he held your hips down and the other began to gently roll your clit among his rough fingers. He leaned down to kiss your inner thighs, sucking at them just how he sucked on your neck. He made sure you were left marked with his hickeys. Moans and whimpers escaped your mouth as he kept circling your clit until he finally dragged his tongue down your folds. You shuddered in pure delight and closed your eyes in bliss. He moaned as he tasted you, god you tasted even better. He couldn’t help but eat you out like he’s been starving for days.

His tongue delved deep inside your pink walls, swirling his tongue and sucking as much as he could, he pulled his hand away from your clit and held your thighs down so you wouldn’t squish his head. The squelching sounds of him eating your pussy were enough to keep you turned on, it didn’t help that his nose would occasionally bump against your lip and his stubble would crash against your skin, ignoring a fire within your stomach.

Your breathing became more jagged as your walls pulsated around his tongue, he groaned against your cunt. You arched your back and gripped on his hair, pulling him closer to your cunt as he fucked his tongue inside you. He knew you were close to release and he let you cum all over his face. Your moan came out in a high pitched breath as you bucked your hips against his face, riding it as he lapped his tongue to capture your juices. Making sure no drop fell to waste.

He pulled back from your cunt as you panted, your body sweaty and glistening under the shitty lights of your apartment. He slowly unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants. He pulled down his underwear and let his hardened lengths bounce to his stomach, hitting it with a smack ‘thwack.’

Your eyes widened at his size. The tip was pink and leaned towards the right by a little bit. A being visibly protruding slightly as pre-cum slid down to his base. You were salivating at the sight. He chuckled and caressed your cheek, “Say yellow to stop,” he whispered before his kissed you softly on the lips. You nodded and allowed him to spread your legs just a little bit for a part. He didn’t want to hurt you so he slowly aligned the tip on your entrance and very gently pushed himself inside you. You shifted uncomfortably but also in pleasure. His thick size slowly got swallowed by your walls and his eyes shimmered as he saw you taking him in fully. He was impressed but also felt like he had to be more gentle so you’d grow used to his size.

He pushed until he connected his pelvis against your hip, he looked down at you to make sure you were still on board. He saw the way your mouth was slightly parted as your eyes were tightly shut. “Are you okay?” He whispered as his hands massaged the fat of your hips. You opened your eyes and nodded, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

He took that to his heart and slowly began to thrust in and out of you. Not fully pulling out as he still wanted to be gentle with you.

Once he saw that you were enjoying his thrusts, he began to go faster. His hips clashing against yours, the sound of his balls clashing against your ass echoing through your living room. He brought his hands up to your hands and intertwined his fingers with yours. A gesture that meant he was here for you and only you. He grunted and groaned as he squeezed your hands from how crazy your pussy was driving him.

You moaned and whimpered as you felt your second orgasm was on its way. The fire in your lower stomach getting hotter and hotter as your walls clenched around his cock. He shuddered softly as the feeling and cursed under his breath at how well your body felt against him. He whispered sweet praises to help you reach your orgasm, knowing that you may be feeling a little overstimulated. “That’s it, baby, come down on me” “You’re doing so well” “You feel so good, princess”

And it worked. You arched your back, your chest coming into contact with his chest as your cunts gripped and clenched on his cock. Milking him until he felt his orgasm coming as well. But he wouldn’t cum inside of you. He knew better for his princess.

He pulled out and shot his cum on your stomach, his moaned coming out in a husky and low tone. He panted as he stayed there for a moment, while you tried to catch your breath. He got off you and grabbed a tissue from nearby and cleaned your stomach. He then moved down to your legs and cleaned there as well. His touch so gentle, knowing you were still sensitive from him. Once he discarded the dirty tissue, he turned his head up to look at you. You looked so beautiful. He leaned up to kiss you on the lips and smiled softly.

“Let’s run you a bathe, okay?” He whispered and swiftly picked you up bridal style. He walked towards the bathroom and closed the door.

Needless to say, this man is the king of aftercare. After he bathed you, he walked you to your bed and laid you down. Oh and the grown man also loves cuddles, so the two of cuddled to sleep.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon smut #resident evil #di leon #re4 leon #resident evil fic #re4r leon #smut #id leon kennedy

[physalian]

Pacing your Story (Or, How to Avoid the "Suddenly...!")

Arguably *the* most important lesson all writers need to learn, even for those who don’t give a damn about themes and motifs and a moral soap box: How your story is paced, whether it’s a comic book, a children’s chapter book, a doorstopper, a mini series, a movie, or a full-length season of TV (old school style), pacing is everything.

Pacing determines how long the story *feels* regardless of how long it actually is. It can make a 2 hour movie feel like 90 mins or double the time you’re trapped in your seat.

There’s very little I can say about pacing that hasn’t been said before, but I’m here to condense all that’s out there into a less intimidating mouthful to chew.

So: What is pacing?

Pacing is how a story flows, how quickly or slowly the creator moves through and between scenes, how long they spend on setting, narration, conversation, arguments, internal monologues, fight scenes, journey scenes. It’s also how smoothly tone transitions throughout the story. A fantasy adventure jumping around sporadically between meandering boredom, high-octane combat, humor, grief, and romance is exhausting to read, no matter how much effort you put into your characters.

Anyone who says the following is wrong:

Good pacing is always fast/bad pacing is always slow

Pacing means you are 100% consistent throughout the entire story

It doesn’t matter as much so long as you have a compelling story/characters/lore/etc

Now let me explain why in conveniently numbered points:

1. Pacing is not about consistency, it’s about giving the right amount of time to the right pieces of your story

This is not intuitive and it takes a long time to learn. So let’s look at some examples:

Lord of the Rings: The movies trimmed a *lot* from the books that just weren’t adaptable to screen, namely all the tedious details and quite a bit of the worldbuilding that wasn’t critical to the journey of the Fellowship. That said, with some exceptions, the battles are as long as they need to be, along with every monologue, every battle speech. When Helm’s Deep is raging on, we cut away to Merry and Pippin with the Ents to let ourselves breathe, then dive right back in just before it gets boring.

The Hobbit Trilogy: The exact opposite from LotR, stretching one kids book into 3 massive films, stuffing it full of filler, meandering side quests, pointless exposition, drawing out battles and conflicts to silly extremes, then rushing through the actual desolation of Smaug for… some reason.

Die Hard (cause it’s the Holidays y’all!): The actiony-est of action movies with lots of fisticuffs and guns and explosions still leaves time for our hero to breathe, lick his wounds, and build a relationship with the cop on the ground. We constantly cut between the hero and the villains, all sharing the same radio frequency, constantly antsy about what they know and when they’ll find out the rest, and when they’ll discover the hero’s kryptonite.

2. Make every scene you write do at least two things at once

This is also tricky. Making every scene pull double duty should be left to after you’ve written the first draft, otherwise you’ll never write that first draft. Pulling double duty means that if you’re giving exposition, the scene should also reveal something about the character saying it. If you absolutely must write the boring trip from A to B, give some foreshadowing, some thoughtful insight from one of your characters, a little anecdote along the way.

Develop at least two of the following:

The plot

The backstory

The romance/friendships

The lore

The exposition

The setting

The goals of the cast

Doing this extremely well means your readers won’t have any idea you’re doing it until they go back and read it again. If you have two characters sitting and talking exposition at a table, and then those same two characters doing some important task with filler dialogue to break up the narrative… try combining those two scenes and see what happens.

**This is going to be incredibly difficult if you struggle with making your stories longer. I do not. I constantly need to compress my stories. **

3. Not every scene needs to be crucial to the plot, but every scene must say something

I distinguish plot from story like a square vs a rectangle. Plot is just a piece of the tale you want to tell, and some scenes exist just to be funny, or romantic, or mysterious, plot be damned.

What if you’re writing a character study with very little plot? How do you make sure your story isn’t too slow if 60% of the narrative is introspection?

Avoid repeating information the audience already has, unless a reminder is crucial to understanding the scene

This isn’t 1860 anymore. Every detail must serve a purpose. Keep character and setting descriptions down to absolute need-to-know and spread it out like icing on a cake – enough to coat, but not give you a mouthful of whipped sugar and zero cake.

Avoid describing generic daily routines, unless the existence of said routine is out of ordinary for the character, or will be rudely interrupted by chaos. No one cares about them brushing their teeth and doing their hair.

Make sure your characters move, but not too much. E.g. two characters sitting and talking – do humans just stare at each other with their arms lifeless and bodies utterly motionless during conversation? No? Then neither should your characters. Make them gesture, wave, frown, laugh, cross their legs, their arms, shift around to get comfortable, pound the table, roll their eyes, point, shrug, touch their face, their hair, wring their hands, pick at their nails, yawn, stretch, pout, sneer, smirk, click their tongue, clear their throat, sniff/sniffle, tap their fingers/drum, bounce their feet, doodle, fiddle with buttons or jewelry, scratch an itch, touch their weapons/gadgets/phones, check the time, get up and sit back down, move from chair to table top – the list goes on. Bonus points if these are tics that serve to develop your character, like a nervous fiddler, or if one moves a lot and the other doesn’t – what does that say about the both of them? This is where “show don’t tell” really comes into play.

4. Your entire work should not be paced exactly the same

Just like a paragraph should not be filled with sentences of all the same length and syntax. Some beats deserve more or less time than others. Unfortunately, this is unique to every single story and there is no one size fits all.

General guidelines are as follows:

Action scenes should have short paragraphs and lots of movement. Cut all setting details and descriptors, internal monologues, and the like, unless they service the scene.

Journey/travel scenes must pull double or even triple duty. There’s a reason very few movies are marketed as “single take” and those that are don’t waste time on stuff that doesn’t matter. See 1917.

Romantic scenes are entirely up to you. Make it a thousand words, make it ten thousand, but you must advance either the romantic tension, actual movement of the characters, conversation, or intimacy of the relationship.

Don’t let your conversations run wild. If they start to veer off course, stop, boil it down to its essentials, and cut the rest.

When transitioning between slow to faster pacing and back again, it’s also not one size fits all. Maybe it being jarring is the point – it’s as sudden for the characters as it is for the reader. With that said, try to keep the “suddenly”s to a minimum.

5. Pacing and tone go hand in hand

This means that, generally speaking, the tone of your scene changes with the speed of the narrative. As stated above, a jarring tonal shift usually brings with it a jarring pacing shift.

A character might get in a car crash while speeding away from an abusive relationship. A character who thinks they’re safe from a pursuer might be rudely and terrifyingly proven wrong. An exhausting chase might finally relent when sanctuary is found. A quiet dinner might quickly turn romantic with a look, or confession. Someone casually cleaning up might discover evidence of a lie, a theft, an intruder and begin to panic.

--

Whatever the case may be, a narrative that is all action all the time suffers from lack of meaningful character moments. A narrative that meanders through the character drama often forgets there is a plot they’re supposed to be following.

#writing advice #writing tips #pacing #writing tools

[yoon-kooks]

paired & pierced | jjk

⛓️pairing: hotnerd!jungkook x popular!reader

⛓️genre: smut, fluff, college!au

⛓️summary: When your professor assigns a collaborative midterm project, you’re paired up with Jeon Jungkook, the quiet grumpy smartass who keeps to himself and doesn’t fuck with popular kids like you. If you can win him over, he might give you a taste of the tatted and pierced body he’s carefully tucked away beneath those oversized hoodies.

⛓️word count: 5.3k

⛓️warnings: dom!jungkook, sub!reader, unprotected rough sex, daddy kink, good girl kink, she's tight, he's big, fingering, mutual masturbation, begging, edging, orgasm denial, cumshot, dick tattoo, not the soft jjk i usually write

⛓️p&p masterlist⛓️

a/n: this is a request from @screamertannie !💖 im not used to writing dom/sub stuff but i tried!! paired & puppy-eyed is jungkook's pov✨

It’s become somewhat of a pre-class ritual for the gals to gather around your desk to discuss anything from the latest frat party hookups to guessing the lengths of your male classmates. The gossip doesn’t particularly interest you, and you’ve never once contributed to the cock talk. But who are you to tell them to leave you alone? If people naturally gravitate toward you, you should see it as a good thing.

“I heard that hottie Tim is single again,” Blue Hair Girl says, turning to you with the curious eyes of a true gossiper. “Y/N, you were hanging out with him at that party last weekend, weren’t you? Is he as big as they say?”

“Didn’t see it.” And you’re glad you didn’t. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt when he approached you, but he kept pulling you in for PDA conveniently when his ex was in sight. He was clearly using you for something you want no part of. In the end, you let him off easy by saying you had to leave early to feed your fish (you don’t have any fucking fish).

“Aw, that’s too bad.” Blue Hair Girl and the others give you a few pouty frowns.

“Yep.” Not really.

“Well, speaking of hotties, I’ve been trying to get Hoseok’s attention for a week now,” Nose Ring Girl sighs. She suddenly grasps your hands and pleads, “Wait, Y/N, you’re friends with him, right? Think you can give me his number?”

You wouldn’t call Hoseok a “friend”—he’s more of an acquaintance you happen to be friendly with, much like everyone sitting around you. But you do have his number. You have a lot of people’s numbers on your phone even though you can’t match any of their names to their faces.

“Here.” You flash your phone screen with Hoseok’s contact info before Nose Ring Girl. Her eyes light up like fireworks.

“Thank you so much, Y/N! You’re the best!” she squeals.

Toward the end of class, your professor announces something that makes your stomach turn.

“The midterm will be a partner project where you have to debug the code I assign to you and add on to it in a creative way,” she explains. “And because I’m nice, I’ll let everyone choose their own partners. Please let me know who you’ll be working with before taking off.”

You hate this. You’re surprisingly okay about the debugging part because the masochist in you kind of enjoys it, but you’re not okay with the partner part. When it comes to choosing partners, it never ends well for you. Because despite how many people you surround yourself with, you always struggle to find someone who chooses you before anyone else. 

You’re no one’s number one.

This time is no different. The girls who were so happy to be gossiping at your desk an hour ago are partnering up with one another on the other side of the room. Among them, Nose Ring Girl doesn’t appear to have coupled up yet, so she might be your only shot. Besides, you did her a favor earlier by giving her Hoseok’s number. The least she can do is partner up with you.

“Y/N, guess what?” She skips over to your desk with a big fat smile on her face. “I just texted Hoseok, and he asked to partner up with me. It’s all thanks to you, babe!”

“Oh, cool.” You try not to sound so disheartened.

She gives you a quick hug before heading back to the boy you indirectly set her up with. You’re happy for her, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t suck. Whether intentional or not, it feels like everyone who comes near you just wants something from you—love advice, a boy’s number, PDA to make their ex jealous, or even answers to the homework—which is fine to an extent. The problem is that people keep taking, and you’re tired of not even getting the bare minimum in return.

To top it all off, Big Tim is headed your way. Yes, you want a partner. No, it’s not going to be him. You’ll pick literally anyone else in the class over him. The question is: who else doesn’t have a partner yet? People are paired up left and right. 

Except for maybe the boy sleeping in the seat right next to you.

“Jungkook,” you say in a half-hushed half-hurried voice. The boy doesn’t move an inch. Maybe he’s dead.

You hop out of your chair, stand in front of his desk, and tap on the wooden surface in front of his face. Still no response.

Aware that Big Tim is inching his way closer, you crouch down to hide as if that’ll buy you more time. The boy in front of you needs to wake up right now.

You reach toward his slumped-over body and peel off his hood. There’s a good chance he isn’t dead and just didn’t hear you because he had earbuds in or something. You hope.

No earbuds. But you do find something worth noting—a trail of empty piercing holes up his earlobe. You don’t know Jungkook all that well, but he’s been in a bunch of your comp sci classes and you’ve never seen any piercings on him. You’d remember something like that because you’re a huge sucker for boys covered in piercings and body art. All you remember is that he’s quiet and always gets the highest grades on exams because he’s a genius or whatever.

“Hey Jungkook,” you whisper into his ear and tap one of his fingers. A sleepy eye finally peeks at you. Thank god he isn’t dead. “Wanna be partners?”

He sits up slowly, adjusts his glasses, and looks around the classroom before turning back to your puppy eyes. “Sure, I guess.”

“Good, good,” you sing, scurrying back to your seat. Partner secured. Mission accomplished. Just in the nick of time.

“Y/N, still looking for a partner?” Big Tim asks at your desk.

“I’m actually partnered up with Jungkook, sorry.” You give an apologetic smile. You really need to stop that. If you had just been brutally honest with him the other day at the party, he wouldn’t be here bugging you now.

“That kid asked you to be his partner?” He points a finger at “that kid” who appears to have gone back to sleep.

You nod even though you were the one who technically asked Jungkook.

“And you said yes?”

You nod again. Big Tim continues to stare as if he’s waiting for you to abandon Jungkook for him. Maybe if he wasn’t such an asshole in the first place, you wouldn't be actively avoiding him like the plague. He had his chance.

After several awkward seconds, he finally backs off and Jungkook rises from the dead once more.

“Why didn’t you just partner up with that other guy? It sounded like he wanted to work with you,” Jungkook yawns as he fluffs his bedhead around. He looks so nice and toasty in that hoodie. No wonder why he falls asleep in class so easily.

“That’s not what he wanted.” He wanted to use you to hurt someone else. And you don’t want to be taken advantage of anymore.

“What about everyone else? Aren’t you friends with everyone here?” That’s just the illusion you’ve created. It feels so fake.

You shake your head. “Let’s just say, if a house were on fire and these people had a choice to save either me or one of their actual friends, I’d burn down with the house 10/10 times.”

“And who would you save?” he challenges you. That’s an easy question.

“No one.”

“Good answer.” The edge of his lips curves upward ever so slightly. “Alright, if it’s cool with you, I’ll just do the project myself and slap your name on it. Shouldn’t take me longer than an hour.”

“Wait, I wanna contribute too, you know,” you argue. He might be a smartypants, but you’re not the type of person to slack off and make him do all the work. You wouldn’t be surprised if other people take advantage of him on group projects like this. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t even bother with fake social interactions with peers the way you do. You admire him for that. “We should meet up and work on it together over the weekend.”

“I’m busy,” he says. Bullshit. You can tell when people make up excuses to get out of things because you’re guilty of it too. The difference is that Jungkook doesn’t sugarcoat it with coverup stories like needing to feed your nonexistent fish. Why do you find that so attractive?

“Busy with what?” You flutter your eyelashes and challenge him the way he challenged you. The fact that you’re fighting over the right to help with the project is both silly and refreshing. Usually, it’s the opposite where you’re forced to plead with your group to pull their own weight. But here you are, practically begging the boy to let you do some coding with him. Him pushing you away is a huge turn-on.

“My newborn.” He says it with such a straight face that you take his word for it.

“You have a child?” Your eyes sparkle. That either makes him a young single dilf or a committed family man you probably shouldn’t be batting your eyes at. For everyone’s sake, you hope it’s the former. “If it’s easier for you and the little one, we can work at your place?”

For a long while, he just blinks at you like you’ve said something horribly wrong. Oh no. Maybe he’s still with the kid’s mom and now he thinks you’re trying to invade their space and be some kind of homewrecker.

“I was just fucking with you…” he admits. Why does it feel like he has secondhand embarrassment from your gullible ass? It’s fine, though. You much prefer being gullible over the homewrecker angle. Then he inputs his number and address into your phone. “But if it makes you feel better, come babysit my kid tomorrow.”

The next day, you wake up a little earlier, dress a little cuter, and feel a little more excited than usual. You’re usually indifferent (if not stressed) about hangouts and parties, but Jungkook is different. It’s fun talking to him, and you don’t have to put on a fake smile around him. He’s even got that hot grumpy boy vibe that you’re determined to win over.

After knocking on his door, you wait for a good minute but there’s no response. Maybe he’s still asleep or butt-naked in the shower. You would’ve messaged him that you were on the way, but you were scared he might have second thoughts and cancel the meetup altogether. You’ve lost count of how many times that’s happened to you in your college career.

Just as you lift your fist to knock again, the door swings open. The boy who stands before you has a full sleeve of tattoos, too many piercings to count, a whole man bun, and a handsome face that looks exactly like Jeon Jungkook’s. You didn’t know he had an identical twin with a totally different style. If he wore glasses with a hoodie and took the man bun and piercings out, he’d literally be your quiet neighbor from coding class. It’s fascinating.

“Isn’t it common courtesy to give someone a heads-up before showing up at their door?” he says with his phone in hand. Same grouchy attitude though. You love it.

Wait. You suddenly remember all those mysterious piercing holes you discovered on Jungkook’s ear less than 24 hours ago.

“Why do you look like that?” You point a finger at him as if your question isn’t already rude enough. Maybe you should rephrase it. “I mean, if I’d given you a heads-up, would you have thrown on a hoodie and removed all your piercings before I got here?”

“Maybe.” He lets you into his home, but you’re more concerned about all the sick art on his arm. If he ever rolled up his sleeves in class, you know you’d be too distracted to focus on the lecture. Perhaps that’s why he keeps it all hidden. He’s just looking out for you and your higher education. Yeah right.

“Why do you hide all of this at school?” You’re sure everyone would be coming to you for his number if they knew what he was hiding up his sleeve.

“Tattoos and piercings give people something to talk about,” he explains. “And I’m not really a fan of compliments or small talk.”

Oh. He’s aware of the physical and emotional impact his body art would have on anyone lucky enough to see it with their own eyes. Your poor body is already aching to see more.

“Fine, I won’t talk about how pretty I think your tattoos are.” Or about how hot you find his lip piercing. You’ve always wanted to kiss someone with a lip ring. You’re feeling pouty all of a sudden so you bring out the puppy eyes again.

He studies the way you shamelessly work your charm on him, and you wonder if he picks up on the temptation in your pupils. “I’ll grant you permission to give one single compliment,” he huffs, finally giving in.

You’re quick to wrap your eager paws around his arm and examine it like it’s your most prized possession. The problem is, he has way too many tatts and piercings to fit into a single compliment. You could write a whole essay expressing your love for each piece you see, and that doesn’t even include the ones still buried beneath his clothes.

“Well? Are you gonna fangirl over my tattoos or just keep fondling my arm?” Funny how he’s acting all impatient and bothered by the “fondling” but doesn’t shrug you off of him. In fact, he was the one who lent you his arm in the first place!

“I wish I could see all of them.” That’s your compliment. Because you love the lusting implications behind it.

You flick your eyes up from his arm to his face, and sure enough, he’s got his eye on you as well. It’s almost a crime that it took this long for the two of you to come together like this. You’ve been neighbors in coding class for the past few weeks, and yet you were too busy with the popular crowd and he was too busy not giving a fuck about them. All you want to do now is make up for lost time.

The only thing that distracts you from the boy is a puffy tail minding its own business in the corner of your eye. When you look down, you’re pleasantly surprised to see the tiniest fluffball dropping a mouse toy at your feet.

“Ooh kitty,” you squeal as you squat down to play with the pink-nosed darling. It’s so tiny it fits in the palm of your hand, and its meows sound more like squeaks. “Wait, is this the newborn you were talking about?”

Jungkook nods. “I found her about a week ago and she’s been a menace ever since. Especially in the middle of the night.”

“Is that why you’ve been falling asleep in class lately?” You like the thought of him scolding the kitten for zooming around at 4AM only to fall back asleep with her on his chest. You’ll take a cat dilf any day.

“Yeah. But it also doesn’t help that the professor never says anything important.” He picks up the mouse toy and drops it off with her stash of goodies including a pink bed, a pink blanket, and a pink bunny plushie. The kitten hops into the bed, cuddles up with her bunny, and has the boy cover her up with the blanket. What a spoiled little thing. “So what’s this project about again?”

“You’d know if you were listening!” Gosh, you can’t stand smart people who sleep through every lecture and still come out on top while you’re taking notes and working your ass off. You still want to fuck him though.

“I’m just fucking with you again.” He finally cracks a whole ass smile and it’s beautiful. You’re mesmerized by it as he scoots you over to the computer in his room. “I already finished it, by the way.”

So much for fulfilling your dreams of coding with an exceptionally handsome boy. With a dramatic sigh of disappointment, you run the program on his screen.

As expected, it runs smoothly, free of any bugs. He even threw in an interactive portion with a sleeping kitty. Total cat dad vibes. It’s great, and there’s really no need for you to tamper with the work he’s done. But you refuse to give him the satisfaction of being the one to carry you on this project. Besides, you have an idea of how you can spice up the program and expand on the kitty part.

You spend a good amount of time going through the code line-by-line and inserting small bits here and there. Once you get to the kitty part, you add in a function to wake up the cat and have it start dancing around to a few different songs from your favorite kpop group. When it’s all set, you run it back, earn Jungkook’s stamp of approval, and submit it for your professor to grade.

“Are you sure that Jim guy wasn’t trying to be your partner just to get a good grade? Nerd.” He leans on the chair over your shoulder. You’d correct him on Big Tim’s name, but you’re too focused on the way he looks at you with such gorgeous dark eyes.

“If that were the case, he would’ve asked for a threesome with you too, Nerd,” you fire back. This is the kind of banter that results from putting two smartasses and an immense amount of sexual tension in the same room together. You want more of it.

“Not particularly interested in a threesome with him,” he says rather casually. “Doubt you would be either, judging by that game of dodgeball you were playing yesterday.”

“Well yeah, he’s kind of an asshole.” You shudder at the thought of almost being stuck as Big Tim’s partner. It’s thanks to Jungkook that you escaped that fate. 

“Why do you hang out with those people anyway?” He spins your chair around to face outward and lays himself down on his bed next to the kitten who just woke up from her nap. She’s cleaning her paws like a good girl.

“I know I have a lot of shallow connections, but I figure if I surround myself with enough people, I’ll eventually have to run into someone I genuinely like, right?” You hop out of the chair, sit your ass on the edge of the bed, and convince yourself it’s to play with the kitty. She jumps down right away to catch a fly but you don’t chase after her.

“Found anyone yet?” he asks, gazing up at the ceiling like it’s the night sky. What did you ever do to deserve seeing this handsome boy and his tattoos all laid out on the bed like this? You’d do it a million more times.

“There might be a boy I’m interested in,” you hum.

“I bet it’s Jim, isn’t it?” he laughs. Why is “Jim” the one name this guy knows from your class? “You know, like a passionate love-hate type thing?”

“Fuck no.” You shimmy your ass closer to him and block his scenic view of the ceiling with your face. Now it’s you he’s gazing up at. You’re free to admire the tempting ring around his soft lip, the glimmering piercing through his brow, and all his beautiful features that have drawn you to him. You look him in the eye and lie because you know he already knows the truth. “Never mind, it’s no one.”

“Really?” All of a sudden, he pulls your body down against the mattress and climbs on top of you. One hand holds your wrists above your head while the other caresses your cheek. He leans in close but stops half a centimeter from your lips. “I was under the impression you were kind of into me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You were begging to work on this project with me yesterday, fondling my arm as soon as you got here, practically eyefucking me a minute ago,” he pauses as his hand unzips your jeans and presses into the folds between your legs. “And you’re pretty wet for me right now.”

You want to lunge at him and devour his lips to prove how right he is, but your arms are still being held captive. He smirks at your failed attempt to bite him. For now, you have to settle for squeezing your thighs against his hand to get the tiniest bit of stimulation. 

“So if it’s not me, who’s this boy you’re interested in?” he whispers into your ear as you feel his hand slipping out from your pleasure spot. “I won’t continue until I get an answer.”

It’d be kinda badass if you had the willpower to keep your lips sealed for at least a minute, but you give in after 0.3 seconds. You never had a fighting chance anyway. “It’s you, Jungkook.”

He smashes his lips against yours, his tongue practically down your throat when he says, “Good girl.”

The ring around his lower lip is cold to the touch, but you keep going in for more. You love the way he tastes—like sweet alcohol that encourages you to keep indulging in the high. He’s so addicting.

At the same time, he helps you kick off your jeans and slides his whole hand back into your panties. He swirls his fingers around, coating them in your lust before rubbing over your clit. The jolt of pleasure draws a soft moan from your mouth and gets your body nice and hot. Normally, you’d be eager to get your hands back to join in on the fun, but the boy somehow knows exactly how you like being touched and toyed with. Plus, you kinda like the idea of being so helpless beneath him.

Eventually, your panties come off, followed by your shirt and his. You get the perfect view of his full sleeve as well as the big shark tattoo on his ribs. If you weren’t so horny, you’d drop everything to analyze each piece in depth. But right now, all your weak mind can handle is admiring the shark.

As soon as he lets your wrists breathe, you run your fingers along his ribs, tracing the tattoo from head to tail. The lines are so smooth and pretty. He has great taste in art and apex predators. You’ll have to ask him for the artist later so you can get yourself a baby shark at your hip.

“Got any others I should know of?” you ask with two paws ready to tear his black jeans off of him. 

“Just one.” He presses his face into the crook of your neck and sucks hard to mark you as his. You can’t wait for Big Tim to see it on Monday. “You’re gonna have to earn it, though.”

You’ll do anything to get his pants off and find that final tattoo. You need to see his bare body in full, and you have an idea of how to earn it.

“Please?” For the hundredth time, you bring out the puppy eyes because that might be his only weakness. His body twitches a tiny bit, but you realize you have to take it up a notch with the dilf angle. “Please, daddy?”

The word not only makes your face hot but also taunts the bulge ready to burst out of his pants. He watches with immense focus as you unbuckle him and free his hard cock from all the fabric standing in its way. 

You assumed you would’ve had to search his skin for that last tattoo, but it’s staring you right in the face. A fat snake slithers along his cock, tempting you to stroke it with its seductive glare. You’d appreciate the design more if not for the fact that snakes eat cute little lizards like salamanders and chameleons, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t incredibly hot.

Without thinking, you wrap both of your hands around his length the same way you had with his arm. Jungkook would probably use the term “fondling” again if he wasn’t so entranced by your touch. If he’s like this with just your hands, you wonder how he’d fare with your whole mouth around him.

Just as you lick the drool from the corner of your lips, he lifts your chin up to meet his gaze. “If you do good today, I’ll let you have a taste tomorrow, yeah?”

Tomorrow is too long of a wait for a starved babe like yourself, but you nod anyway because you want to be praised again.

“Good girl,” he purrs as he removes the final piece of clothing over your breasts. Then he leans back to get your whole bare body in sight. “Can you show daddy how you want to be touched?”

You start by squeezing your breasts together and working your way down to your core. Your legs spread themselves open and your fingers glide right in. One hand pumps in and out of your hole while the other strokes your clit. You’re so wet you’d think you’d already orgasmed several times if you didn’t know any better.

With shy eyes, you glance up at the boy watching your every move. This is the first time someone has ever dropped everything to watch you touch yourself. You usually just tease your clit a little if the cock inside you isn’t enough, but never once has a boy given you his full attention like this. He might not take any notes in class, but he’s definitely jotting a few things down for the next time it’s his turn to play with you.

Your fingers speed up and your panting gets louder. How long is he going to make you suffer before he takes over? The one thing you need right now is for him to fuck you senseless.

But instead of getting handsy with you, he grabs his cock and forces you to watch—not that you’d look away anyway.

“Do you want this cock inside your tight little pussy?” he says rather calmly as he jerks off.

You nod as a gasp for more pleasure escapes you.

“Beg for it.”

“Please daddy,” you whimper, giving up the last of your dignity. “I need you inside my tight little pussy.”

“Such a good girl.” He throws your legs over his shoulders and pushes himself into you. It’s definitely a tight fit, but your body adjusts to him accordingly. You almost lose it when you hear the way he grunts your name. 

As he pounds in and out of you, you feel yourself getting dangerously close. “Jungkook, I’m—”

“Don’t cum yet,” he warns. “Not until I say so.”

You wish you’d known he was the type to torture you for one single release. If you’d known sooner, you would’ve tried to pace yourself. Now you’re stuck on the edge without permission to orgasm. You love it here.

In the meantime, he gives you some more sloppy kisses. His tongue doesn’t have to fight for dominance over your docile one, but he’s certainly not holding back. That, in combination with the forceful thrusting down below, is your definition of the best rough sex.

At some point, the pleasure begins to melt altogether into a foggy haze of feral lust. Your moans have been reduced to a broken record machine, and your poor body is just waiting to hear the word to finally hit its high. You don’t even know how much time has passed.

“You poor thing,” he growls into your mouth. On pure instinct, you tighten around him and feel him tense up. “Do you enjoy it when I tease you like this?”

You nod without thinking too hard about it.

“Think you can go another hour?”

Hell no, but you nod anyway.

“I’m not that mean,” he chuckles as his hands slide up and down your limp legs. “But good to know.”

He quickens the pace to build the pleasure back up with you still so tight around him. Your obnoxious moans and whimpers give porn star vibes. He better let you get your release soon if he doesn’t want any complaints from his neighbors.

“Please, Jungkook, I can’t—” you gasp, biting back the impending wave of pleasure. Your claw marks are etched into his ribs. “Please let me cum.”

Satisfied with your begging, he nods with the cockiest smile you’ve ever seen and gives you the okay. It feels like your whole body breaks into a million pieces of pure pleasure. Your back arches, your walls tighten even more around him, and your chest heaves up and down as you ride the wave out.

Not long after, he pulls out and pumps his fat cock over your breasts until they’re covered in his lust like two glazed donuts. He admires your glossy worn-out body for a good while before tossing you a hand towel to clean up. You feel timid and small all of a sudden. What if there’s nothing left to say after the excitement of sex has come and gone? What if he shrugs you aside like everyone else does once they get what they want from you?

“Did you really call me daddy?” He throws his pants back on and joins you back on the bed. You can tell he’s trying his best to hide a smile, but you see through him. It’s adorable.

“I thought you were into it, no?” Your face is flushed with heat again as you slip back into your outfit.

“It’s cute coming from you, I guess,” he shrugs as if he’s not aware of how weak he is to your baby girl charm. “I was just going with it because you said it first.”

“Well if you don’t like it, I won’t say it next time.” You give him a hmph for extra emphasis.

“I didn’t say that,” he clarifies, almost a little too quickly. You knew it. 

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Your voice is soft.

“Go for it.”

“Why did you invite me over even though you finished most of the project yourself?” It’s been in the back of your mind all day, although you did shove it away during the sex.

“Well, my little demon cat kept me up all night so I thought I might as well work on it. And you were hard set on coming here, weren’t you?” he says. You nod for him to continue. “But also, I wanted you to know that there’s at least one person in our class who’d save you from that house on fire.”

He’d choose you. That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to you.

“Yeah, but you hate everyone else, so I’m your only option.” Your smartass can’t help but point out the flaw in his statement. If anything, it’s you challenging him one last time.

“Maybe you’re the only option that matters,” he hums to himself as if those words don’t mean a thing. Who knew a grumpy boy could say such soft things? And who knew you’d fall for it? 

If a hundred shallow friendships is what it took to bring you to this moment—this boy on this bed—then you’re glad you took that route. And you’re even happier that that route ends where this new one begins.

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts college au #nerd jungkook #jungkook #bts

[dreamcatchers-husband]

Jitters

Male Reader X Fromis_9 Saerom

Length: 2600+ words

Tags: Roomates, Fuck buddies, Mommy kink, Creampie

A/N- Saerom has always caught my attention so I had to make her a fic. At least a quckie.

Do you ever get the jitters? Get nervous?

People get nervous for a lot of different reasons. Job interview? Getting on a roller coaster? Riding a plane? 

For you, it was none of these. The cause of your nerves was two simple words. First date. When the girl said yes, you were beyond excited but the jitters came once you began to head home. Your shoulder hit several people as your eyes were stuck on your phone screen. After each apology, you continued the walk home, planning on what to do with your date. 

Eventually, you arrived at your apartment complex and walked to the front door. Once you passed the door, your legs brought you over to the elevator where you waited for the metal cage. Your travel up the elevator was uneventful as your legs continued to tap up and down nervously.

With a ding, your eyes looked up and saw the number 14. Recognizing it as your floor, you stepped off and rushed to your door. Once your golden metal key entered the keyhole, you turned it counterclockwise and unlocked the door. 

With your shoulder pushing it open, your feet moved forward and rushed towards your living room. Once there, your eyes began to search for a nice brown bookcase that lived in that part of your home. Once your eyes saw it, your mind took over as you pulled the doors open and found a large black safe that sat there. 

Raising your hand, the various beeps from the safe echoed in your ear. Punching The code 0124 made the green light appear as well as a clicking sound. Pulling the safe open, you found a couple of stacks of money as well as a wallet. Grabbing your black leather wallet, you opened it and pulled out a green card. 

With the card now in your possession. You fished out your personal wallet from your pants and put it in one of the slots. The brown from the wallet faded with time but you still loved how big it was as well as convenient compared to others. Just as your wallet went back into your pocket, the sound of a door caught your attention. With the door, footsteps followed that got closer and closer. Finally, a voice was heard as a figure appeared. 

“Why the hell is there so much noise?” 

“Sorry Saerom. I needed to get my other credit card.” 

“You hate using that one. You always complain about the interest rate. Is something wrong? Do you need new tires? I told you those used one-“

“I don’t need new tires, Saerom. This is great news. She said YES!”

“Who said yes? The librarian if the book you had on hold was finally returned?”

“NO. She finally said yes. I can take the girl of my dreams on a date!”

As your hand closed the metal door to the safe, your body turned around and was met with the brown-haired woman. Her outfit immediately stuck out to you as your eyes went up and down her body. The black top cut short just above her midriff, giving you the slightest tease of her amazing abs. The navy green skirt didn't do any better at hiding her body. Despite being on the shorter side. Her legs looked long and soft. They were for sure soft. Of course, you would know with the amount of times they have been wrapped around your head. 

“Oh, why are you dressed up Saerom?”

“Oh, I was just trying on some clothes for the next time we go out to get drinks. So you finally got a date with Hayoung huh?” 

“Yes! It’s even today. Look, I need to go shower so I’ll talk to you later.”

Not waiting for a response, your legs pushed forward towards your room. Your hands moved faster than you thought ever possible, removing the clothing from your body. Guess just a plain shirt and joggers helped with this also. Normally your body would be covered by a bathrobe at this point, but all reason was gone in your mind. With nothing on, your legs ran across the hallway and pushed their way into the bathroom. 

As you shut the door behind you, your arm then extended out and pulled the door to your glass shower. Turning the dial on the shower wall, the chrome wheel moved from the blue to the red section, changing the water temperature. After touching the water a few times with your fingers, your desired temperature finally arrived. 

Hoping in, the warm water began to roll off your back as you closed the door. Stepping fully into the water, your face looked up towards the shower head, and let the water pour over the rest of your body. Reaching to the left; your hand grabbed the bar of soap sitting and lifted it. As your head began to move away from the water, your hand began to raise the soap to your body until a noise caught your attention.

Looking behind you, Saerom entered the shower with you. The smirk on her face was setting off all the alarms in your head. 

“S-Saerom. What are you doing here? I need to…”

“Hey. It’s good for the environment to save water. Let’s shower quickly.”

Taking the bar of soap from your hand, the young woman began to run the white bar over her body. As the soap moved down from her arms, the bar began to lather over her toned abs and moved up. Saerom didn’t have the biggest breasts but she certainly had a pair you loved. In circular motions, the lather began to form around her perky mounds. 

A small giggle left Saerom’s mouth as she pulled your head up. Making eye contact, your roommate gave you a wink and brought the soap to your chest. Just as she did on her chest, the young woman began to rub the soap in circular motions on your body. You were about to say something until your friend spun your body around. The same action as before continued on your back. The smooth touches were very relaxing, causing you to close your eyes and get stuck in thought. 

The relaxing feeling continued until you felt a couple of nubs on your back. Saerom had her breasts on your back.  As your eyes shot open, the young woman’s arm touched your abs and began to work its way down. 

“S-Saerom. We shouldn’t.”

“Doyoon. You know Hayoung is a great friend of mine. She has a rule about the new guys she dates. No sex until 6 months of dating. This is me doing you a favor.”

Saerom’s delicate fingers finally reached your length, wrapping around it in one swoop. Your whole body jolted a bit from the sudden touch on your cock. 

“Look here, sweetie. The throbbing from your cock lets me know you like this. Why don’t you fuck my pussy one last time? Just for old time's sake.”

“B-But Hayoung w-will be here in twenty minutes.”

“Then we better get started.”

The soap on both of your bodies had already washed off in that time. Dropping to her knees, Saerom turned you around once more and looked up at you. Your roommate's hand began to move up and down, getting you harder than before. Bringing her upper body closer, Saerom brought out her tongue and inched it closer and closer until it made contact with your tip.

A quick flick to your tip sent shivers down your spine, causing a small whimper to leave your mouth. Saerom took this as her sign to continue as her tongue moved down your shaft from the left then the right, Saerom’s tongue continued to get your cock wet all over. 

Without any warning, Saerom then plunged her mouth on top of your tip and moved it down her throat. Your hands immediately took hold of your roommate's head and gripped onto her hair. All reason was gone as your hips began to move back and forth into Saerom’s mouth. 

With each thrust into the young woman’s mouth, the more your body began to shake. Taking the lead, Your friend put her hands on your legs and began to shove your length down her throat. Normally your roommate wouldn’t get to deepthroating off the bat, but Saerom knew you had a time constraint. 

Matching her movements, your hip would thrust your length into her throat as she pulled you in as deep as possible. After a couple of times, you decided to pull your cock out of her mouth and give her time to breathe. The sudden slap to your ass caught your attention and brought your vision back down. The scowl on Saerom’s face made you scared. 

“Who said to stop fucking Mommy’s face? You will stop when I say you stop.” 

The sudden warmth from Saerom’s mouth returned around your length. The constricting feeling around your rod was amazing as Your roommate vigorously moved her mouth up and down your shaft. Your hands were suddenly raised once more and brought to the side of Saerom’s head. The glare you got earlier returned. She wanted her face to be fucked. 

Not wanting to disappoint your mommy, you began to thrust with your hip once more. Just like you were slamming into her pussy, your cock continued to get constricted around. As you continued this action, a small sound began to hit your ears. Sure, you were in a shower but this sound was different.

Looking down, your eyes noticed Saerom’s hand down on her pussy. The sounds were of her playing with herself. Saerom needed this just as badly as you did right now. Bringing your hips back, Saerom let go of your legs and brought one hand up to your length. 

Your roommate's tongue returned to your tip and began to move in circular motions around it followed by some strokes from her hand. Standing back up, Saerom laid her back on the shower wall and signaled you to come closer. The air got heavy as you inched closer and closer to Saerom. 

Finally, in front of her, the young woman wrapped her arms around your neck and pulled your head to her neck. Your instincts took over as you began to pepper her neck with small kisses and bites. As you moved further and further down, you felt Saerom’s finger around your cock again. Your cock head began to feel the sticky mess leaking from Saerom’s folds. 

“Put that cock in Mommy one last time. Don’t keep me waiting.”

With a push, your tip began to plunge into Saerom’s cunt. The slick from the woman’s folds leaked onto the rest of your rod as you filled her. A gasp left Saerom’s mouth as you stood there for a few seconds. Pulling back, your strokes began to repeat little by little like you did with her mouth before. 

The warm comforts of her pussy were removed from your mind as Saerom pulled your neck back from hers. A sudden slap to the face shocked you as Saerom tightened her hold on your neck. 

“Stop being a pussy and fuck me. Or do you want your date to come here while you’re balls-deep in my cunt? 

With those words of encouragement, you brought your hips back and shoved your length down her tunnel. With your hands holding her up, your cock began to shove your length down her cunt repeatedly. With each thrust, your speed increased until you were at a steady pace, in and out of Saerom. 

The sound of grunts and moans was all that could be heard with the running water. Your constant pace was good, but not enough for your roommate. The young woman began to move her hips to match your own, filling her as best as possible. Your length could feel the construction around it as her walls tried to keep you inside her at all costs. 

“T-That’s a good boy. You always have such an amazing cock for mommy. T-The perfect length, and girth. F-Fuck even the throbbing from your length is perfect. S-Stay here. Why don’t you just fuck Mommy’s pussy forever?” 

The offer was tempting. Saerom’s pussy was something you had almost every day and it never disappointed. Still, you had to grow up one day and Hayoung was your chance at a real relationship. 

“I-I’m sorry Mommy but Hayoung is almost here and I’m really close.”

“Tsk. Fine. Then you better make me cum one last time before you do.”

Knowing you had no other option, you began to speed up your waist and move faster than before. Moving one of your hands down to her folds your length pulled out of her snatch, exposing the little nub you were looking for. Now found, your fingers began to rub on your roommate's clit as your cock continued to piston in and out of her.

The circular motions from your fingers combined with your cock’s actions caused the moans from Saerom to increase. Your grunts began to match the sounds from Saerom as both your fingers and cock increased in pace. 

“F-Fuck. You’re close sweetie, aren’t you? Me too. J-Just a bit more and you can empty those balls in my pussy.”

A slap to your ass motivated you to give it all you had left. All of your adrenaline shot throughout your body in that moment as you fucked Saerom as ferociously as humanly possible. Your hips could almost break at the rate you were shoving in and out of your roommate. A loud yell hit your ears as you felt a sudden pressure around your shaft. A rush of fluids hit your legs as Saerom began to jolt all over the place.

“F-FUCK!”

Saerom’s nails began to scratch your back as her climax was achieved. Saerom’s orgasm was the catalyst to achieve your own peak, causing you to yell as well. As your cock throbbed, ropes of semen left your tip and filled Saerom to the brim. As the twitches from your cock finished, the two of you were left panting for air. 

With a laugh, you both stood up straight and grabbed the soap again. Your shower had to be a quick one as your date would be there soon, so after 3 minutes you both hopped out. Running towards your room, you quickly entered and noticed a nice outfit placed on the bed. Saerom must have set it out while you first showered. 

Putting on the nice dress shirt and pants, you made your way to the living room and found Saerom relaxing on the couch. Your roommate was in pajamas yet it perfectly fit her curves, just like any other outfit. Standing up, the young woman walked over and began to fix a few things on your outfit. 

“OK then. You look nice. Have fun. This is your last chance to just stay here with me though.”

“That sounds fun but this is what I want.” 

With a knock at the door, Saerom pulled you closer and kissed you on the lips, one final time. Pulling back, the girl walked with you to the front door. Hayoung was familiar with your home so it was an easy meet-up place. As the door opened, you were met with the cutest girl you had ever seen, fit with a beautiful white dress. 

“Oh hi, Saerom. D-Doyoon. You look really nice.” 

“Y-You look amazing Hayoung.” 

“Well then. You two have fun and be safe out there OK?” 

“Yes, captain!”

With a nod, you made your way out the door and looked at Hayoung. 

“Let’s go!”

As you walked away with Hayoung, your mind went back to Saerom and the activities you indulged in earlier. 

You surely are gonna miss having sex for six months. 

#smut #kpopsmut #female idol smut #fromis9smut

[thedevilspearl]

➛ out of office hours

a/n: been craving a ceo!luci for so long so i decided to write it myself and i’m in love with him >_< am also thinking about him falling in love with you and i just—! <333333

tags: 4.2k words, ceo!lucifer x secretary!reader, female reader, dom!lucifer, oral sex (male and female receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex, cumming inside, ass slapping, degradation, praise, multiple orgasms, overstimulation. minors do not interact!

you always felt the need for professionalism in your role as a secretary. especially with a boss as hot as yours.

he was terrifying at first, you will admit that. but having the raven–haired man bare down at you with those unruly eyes was the most exciting thing about the job. from the beginning, he watched you closely, his gaze raking up and down your form, taking in the way you do things so perfectly.

your profession is simple enough; organising files, preparing his documents, reading and directing e–mails and scheduling all of lucifer’s appointments are the routine kind of things you do.

but every now and then, a splash of wild colour enters the monotonous life as a secretary, and you find yourself on your knees beneath your cold and grumpy boss.

“that’s it,” lucifer sighs. “just like that.”

today was a world–wind of emotions for both you and lucifer. as the ceo, he is bound to have days filled with stress. and on those days, your bound to feel it tenfold as you are the one doing all of the work behind the scenes, supporting him as best you can.

through all the excessively long and draining meetings and the ruthlessly hectic business environment, you both managed to make it back in the office, despite it being late into the evening, long after business had closed for the day.

he finishes up some work on his computer, work you will need to catch up on later, and hums from the warmth of your mouth running up and down his cock. he relaxes into his chair, no longer paying attention to his screen and looks down at you tucked snugly under his desk.

squeezed in the space between his thighs, you forge eye contact with him as he brushes his hair back with slender fingers, revealing a slightly sweaty forehead and reddened cheeks.

you’re aware of how hard he tries to maintain the classic ceo persona — an emotionless robot who cares only for money and power — but when he’s with you, when he’s fucking you and using you and allowing you to use him how you please….it’s a marvel, to say the least.

his blush is enhanced with the ruby glimmers in his irises but the dark, lustful entity behind those eyes spur you on.

a mixture of whispery groans and praises escape him and you take it as your signal to suck in harder, then to tease him by pulling back and swirling your tongue around his cock, paying extra attention to his sensitive tip before taking him whole in your mouth again.

“mmh….fuck, keep doing it like that.” he orders and you obey.

you wonder if the pleasure you thrust upon him is what takes his moodiness away. seeing him slip into his relaxed self, his greedy and self–indulgent self while he gets off on your mouth is surely a sight no one else would see.

as far as you know, you’re the only one who does these things with him.

not that it’s an exclusive relationship, but lucifer has expressed he would only do such things with people he trusts and you happen to be one of them. conveniently, the only one he has regular access to.

and that’s how this situation began.

it’s rare, but every now and then when either of you need relief, you use each other. there are rules in place, of course. there always are with a man like lucifer.

the typical things like no strings attached and no kissing.

but your least favourite rule is no fucking.

feelings, kissing and fucking: all three of them would decimate the professional boundaries you have in place.

but that’s not to say you don’t have fun without all of that.

using your hands and mouths on each other is satisfying enough. and the opportunity to even look at lucifer’s cock, let alone suck him dry, is more akin to a blessing.

the feel of his cock in your mouth will never grow old. you hollow your cheeks, sucking harder and humming so the vibrations can send waves of pleasure up his cock and into his body. he twitches, rutting his hips into you, no longer restraining himself.

his hand plants itself into you scalp, using your head as he pleases until hot cum blasts into your mouth and his hips stutter between your lips. you watch with wide eyes as his face contorts in pleasure, and you feel your panties grow more soaked in your arousal.

you had already removed your shoes and blazer, but while you swallow the remnants of lucifer’s cum, you unbutton your shirt and kick off your skirt, leaving your bra and panties for him to remove. he steadily reaches behind you, not breaking eye contact, and unclasps your bra.

his dark orbs finally move away from yours, only to remain stuck on you breasts and perky nipples. you don’t miss the swipe of tongue across his lips; he’s hungry.

pulling him from his trance, you work on his own shirt, unbuttoning and pulling it from him with zeal. he meets your eagerness by pushing you down on his desk, tracing his fingers over your ankles and up your calves. he leaves kisses along the inside of your thighs, promising to go further.

and when he reaches the apex, he chuckles softly at the soaked stain leaking through your panties. you bare your wetness proudly, and his cock twitches knowing it’s all due to him. one chaste kiss over your panties causes you to quiver and a moment later, your panties are ripped from you.

your pussy glistens in the dimmed light of his office and your boss, who is a man with little time, wastes none when it comes to devouring you.

his hot mouth collides with your already burning pussy and you whine wantonly. he slobbers all over you, mixing your arousal with his own saliva before sucking it all back into his mouth. his tongue tickles between your folds, swiping up and down and swirling circles at the top where your most sensitive part hides.

and just when your clit is ready to explode with pleasure and send it adrift throughout your body, he smacks harsh, wet kisses on your lips, sucking and nibbling like his life depends on it.

“fuck! lucifer!” you squeal. “please make me cum!”

he buries his head deep between your thighs and you lock him in. you yearn for release and grind your hips into his face, to which he responds by licking and sucking your pussy with more vigour. and as you rock your pussy on his face, the pleasure builds up and explodes in an electrifying burst.

ripples of exultation flood your body, nourishing your flesh with the meaning of true bliss; a cause for you nerves to jubilate and rejoice. sparks dance along your skin and lucifer pulls away, gasping between your trembling thighs with his face glossed over from your pussy.

he kisses his way up slowly, leaving marks on your stomach and giving special attention to your breasts. he eyes you as he takes each nipple one after the other, and sucks. falling onto your elbows, you throw your head back and attempt to catch your breath, but lucifer makes that difficult as his lips snake up the skin of your neck and capture your lips in his own.

the sweet taste of your essence coats your tongue, but what surprises you more is how casual lucifer’s lips feel against yours. it’s the first kiss you’ve shared, yet it feels like you’ve kissed him a million times before, like he’s the only man you should ever kiss.

tiny cracks appear in the set of rules. he shouldn’t have kissed you, and you most certainly should not be kissing him back.

but you wrap your arms around his shoulders, silently telling him you are fine with this. more than fine, actually. you would rather die than move away from him now.

wrapped so closely together, embraced in each other’s lips and arms, it feels like it should be no other way.

his tongue reaches in and toys with yours in a playful fight for dominance and you hope this forbidden kiss could last forever, but you pull back slight when his cock rubs against your sensitive clit.

a single look to him to ask what he is doing earns a single look from him, signifying what he wants next.

you shouldn’t.

you absolutely should not do this.

but no matter how many times you remind yourself how wrong it is in these few short moments, your body speaks for itself and you nod. lucifer’s shoulders visibly relax, as if he was scared you would say no.

you can’t feel guilty about this, not when lucifer wants it as much as you. he strokes his cock, eyes furrowed from the battle waging in his mind. he’s as conflicted as you, but in times like this, he is hopeless in the fight against his lust.

“are you sure you want this?”

“yes,” you gasp. “are you?”

“i wouldn’t have gotten this far if i didn’t.”

you hesitate for a moment, but he assures you with his charming words, whether they speak the truth or otherwise.

“you needn’t worry about the repercussions. this is purely for stress relief.”

you’re sure the sinking feeling in your chest is a bad sign, knowing it hurts that all of this is just for the release of pent up stress. but still, your body is greedy enough to bury that bitter hesitance deep down and replace it with more lust.

“then stop talking and do it,” you wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer so his cock prods your entrance. “don’t take your time with me, lucifer. i’m not a patient woman.”

his softness is gone instantaneously and like a flash of lightening, you are shocked by how quickly he can switch from his relaxed and vulnerable side to his authoritative and commanding façade.

“you ought to show more respect to your boss,” he leans down, close enough for his lips to graze your ear. “you’ve forgotten your manners.”

“i hardly think manners are necessary. with this, at least.”

“hm, well, you see,” he taunts. “i won’t give you anything unless you ask for it nicely. and you’re not a patient woman, so how long are you going to wait for it?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. you’d gotten caught up in the heat of the moment, hoping lucifer would hop straight into fucking you senseless. but you forgot how much of a control freak he is, and how everything happens his way or it doesn’t happen at all.

you hoped the lenience and generosity he has for you would work in your favour, but apparently not.

“i don’t need to ask again,” he warns. “tell me what you want and say please.”

you bite your lip, glaring at him daringly but a single stern look puts you in your place and speaking the words you both desperately need to hear.

“please, i want you to fuck me.”

he stares you dead in the eye as he utters another order.

“say it again.”

“please, lucifer,” you whine. “fuck me, please!”

in a moment’s turn, he flips you so your feet touch the ground and his large hand on your lower back pushes you into the edge of his desk, while the other lines his cock with your sopping entrance.

he slips in, teasing you and earning a moan as he slowly rocks his hips, entering you further with each roll of his hips.

you push your body against him, and his cock digs further into your pussy. you keep rocking, both in unison until his cock is deep enough for you to scream his name.

“lucifer—ah!”

your squeal is cut short when he ruts into you again, slamming his hips against your ass and groaning from the tight warmth of your pussy enveloping his aching cock.

both of you are so lost in the wonders of each other’s body that the abrupt, high–pitched chiming almost goes unnoticed.

shrill ringing of the telephone on lucifer’s desk threatens to dampen the mood. but lucifer’s cock has only just entered and you’re not far away from the best part of the night. to hell with the phone call, lest it disturb your secret pleasure time with your boss.

“what are you waiting for?” lucifer rubs your hips with a subtle but notable thrust of his own. “aren’t you going to answer it?”

“what—ah?!” you gasp, doing your utmost to stay upright on his desk while he pounds into you. but your elbows have turned feeble from your orgasm, trembling as you try to hold yourself up with them. “i can’t do that!”

“answer it.”

his curt order is enough to make you obey, as is the harsh grip on your ass cheek. you lean over the desk a little further, reaching for the phone. this is a terrible idea but you can’t seem to break free of the spell lucifer has cast on you — you’d obey every last one of his orders.

“h–hello?”

in the process of lucifer figuratively rearranging your guts, he seems to have also turned your brain to mush and you cannot comprehend the words coming from the speaker.

all you can feel is lucifer, and how he hovers lower and lower, leaning down on your body until you’re squished between him and his desk. he grinds his hips into you, leaving chaste kisses along your shoulder blade and when he is flush against your ear, he whispers.

“focus.”

but you’re incapable of doing anything, including focusing on the phone call.

you have a client in one ear, and your boss in the other ear. neither of which can hear the other, but what is certain is that they can both hear you muffling your moans with a hand clasped over your face, and your entire body shakes as lucifer refuses to cease fucking you brainless.

“hello? is anyone there? i can hear you breathing.”

within seconds, you move the phone away from your mouth, ready to hang up but lucifer’s reflexes are quick enough to grab your arm and bring the phone back to where it was moments ago.

“answer him,” lucifer whispers. you shake your head with tight lips, holding your breath as to not make a sound while lucifer holds the phone against your face. and into the ear he has claimed, he orders, “speak. now. or i won’t let you cum.”

you open your mouth, swallowing in air before finally speaking.

“this is mr. morningstar’s office. how can i help?”

“i wish to speak with lucifer himself. this is urgent.”

your mouth hangs open, silent moans causing your body to convulse as lucifer grinds slowly and deeply in your pussy. you’re hanging on by a thin thread, but lucifer brings your attention back from your oncoming orgasm.

“you want to cum, don’t you? be a good girl and do your fucking job.”

lucifer pushes himself up and switches up his pace from slow ruts to harsh and fast thrusts. each of them knock the air out of you as you try to speak.

“i must apologise, sir. you’re calling during his out of office hours so unfortunately i can’t let you speak to him at the moment.”

“why the hell not?!”

“this is his personal—ah!” you stifle a yelp to the best of your ability, praying lucifer would have some mercy and not humiliate you — or allow you to humiliate yourself. “this is his personal time but i can pass on a message.”

the man continues to speak and with shaky hands, you reach for pen and paper, turning your moans from lucifer’s cock dragging in and out of your pussy into hums of acknowledgement in heed of the man’s queries. you only hoped they’re disguised enough to not spark intrigue on the other end of the line, because that would be the end of all the professionalism you held.

you slam the telephone into its holder, ending the call as quickly as possible.

“what the hell was that?” you whine, clenching down on lucifer’s cock as you near the bliss you’ve been longing for. your complaints are disrupted with stutters caused by lucifer’s thrusts. “do you have any idea how stupid that was?”

“you’re the one who answered,” he bites back, landing his hand down harshly on your ass once again. “not me.”

“you told me—ah! to answer!”

“and you could have refused.”

you lower your head, biting back a moan. you could have refused, but the outcome of tonight’s session would be a lot different if you didn’t answer. perhaps, lucifer might have stopped immediately, leaving you on the outskirts of blissful territory.

or alternatively, he may have begun to fuck you harsher, rougher, meaner; punishing you for not obeying his order. but you wouldn’t think of it as a punishment, as long as you get to cum.

“that’s right,” he continues. “you’re so desperate to cum, you don’t care if someone hears you getting fucked like a whore.”

an especially loud groan escapes you at the sound of the new nickname. you quite like the sound of it, but your body more so and lucifer can tell from the quivering walls of your pussy.

“you like that? you like being called a whore?”

“yes!”

“i fucking knew it.”

he thrusts impossibly harder and your body collapses, allowing him full control of your pleasure. and he gifts it to you on a golden platter.

“go on. you’ve been a good whore, so go ahead and cum,” he grunts. “cum for me. cum all over my cock like the desperate, pathetic bitch you are.”

“fuck! ah!” you can’t even warn him of your orgasm as you clench your walls, feeling his cock in greater detail as it rubs you in all the right places. “fuck, luci— feels so good!”

“that’s it, baby,” lucifer hums, emptying his own load in you. “good fucking girl.”

his words are dragged out, mellowed by the pure ecstasy he has found in your pussy. and your pussy, too, feels awestruck from the new sensations of him filling you up, not just with his cock but with his cum, too.

you’re taken over by bliss and warmth, limbs trembling from the sheer shock of it all. never had you imagined how one of your worst days would end with such astoundingly good sex. you ebb and flow with the pleasure, letting your body relax and the feelings to wither away slowly while you catch your breath.

but lucifer doesn’t give the feelings a chance to subdue and picks up the pace. with hands grounded in your hips, he pushes all of his might into one more round. the stickiness from your mixed arousals leaking out of your pussy allow him to fuck you with ease, and not minutes later, your screaming and thrashing with a new, heightened pleasure.

your tip–toes graze the floor, pressing into the ground as hard as you can to stabilise yourself. but lucifer fucks you ruthlessly and when he rips another orgasm from you, your legs fly up and outward and your hips rock against him and the desk in a most embarrassing manner.

your limbs flail and your body convulses and lucifer relishes, knowing he is the reason behind your wild pleasure. he wonders if anyone else could make you like this, to drive you insane with pleasure that you no longer have control over your body, even for the short–lived moment of him fucking you through your orgasm.

perhaps, that is why he keeps going. because he wants this moment to last forever.

having your tight pussy wrapped around him and your wildly beautiful moans filling his ears for eternity doesn’t sound bad at all.

but he, too, has limits and feels himself slow down. his thrusts become sloppy and gentle and his guttural groans are replaced with heavy breaths.

“fuck….” he gasps and he truly can find no other words. “fuck.”

collapsing into his chair, he watches your body twitching as you lay exhausted on his desk with you red ass on display and his cum dripping down your legs.

when you finally regain control over your limbs, you slowly rise, stretching to ease your muscle. but your whines and groans and the sight of your sullied body keep his cock hard for longer than he thought.

“are you alright?” he asks breathlessly. “rest longer if you need to.”

“no,” you state, looking at him over you shoulder before backing up. “we’re not done yet.”

lucifer is surprised. under the assumption that you would be as spent as he is, he does not expect you to find his cock and slip it inside of you again. but that’s exactly what you do.

“oh my god….” you moan, hypersensitive to any and all ministrations against your pussy. but still, you want more, you need more. “please, it’s so good!”

lucifer supposes he should let you continue bouncing on his cock given that he released all of his stress on you. the least he can do is allow you to use him until you’re satisfied. but that doesn’t stop him from grabbing your hips and guiding you up and down. his fingers fit into your flesh like second nature.

his added strength makes it easier for you, and you focus more on finding your next orgasm.

the usually quiet office of morningstar corporation’s boss is now filled will all sorts of obscenities — from your desperate gasps and moans to the squeaking of lucifer’s chair, and the abrupt slaps cutting through the air to the scuffling of paper on his desk when you grab onto it for stability as rapture fills you for the last time, teaching you that the joy and delight you find in melding your bodies together is the most sinful of utopias.

pleasure turns to pain, and pain turns to pleasure as you are overwhelmed with the orgasms you have endured.

lucifer’s hands snake around your waist, pulling you back into him with one hand straying to fondle your breasts. breathing in your scent, he grounds himself in you and you lay limp in his arms as all the glee and elation filling your body slowly slips away.

regaining your stable mind and body, you realise you and your boss have a lot of discussing to do. and what follows can either make or break the relationship you have with him as your boss and you as his secretary. all professional boundaries have been broken, and the flimsy rules you had in place to ensure your situation would not advance to the level it did tonight are left far in hindsight.

there’s not a single directive you left untouched. but knowing you broke all the rules, and that lucifer instigated most of it, is worrying as much as it is electrifying because you know that extra care and attention from lucifer isn’t just for the sex.

he appreciates your abilities outside of the sexual encounters you share.

as you would both understand, your role is merely to serve him and his company. he receives corporate aide from his directors but still, he trusts your intuition. he listens to your gut feeling as if it were his own.

he has a habit of asking your opinion when it comes to high–risk decisions, or urging you to tell him your opinion on a new client he had a bad feeling about. although you’re in his presence for admin only, lucifer ensures you are there for more than that.

that you are there for him and not just your job.

in more ways than one.

and he proved that tonight when he kissed you. the first rule of your arrangement was no feelings and no kissing. but lucifer, a man who lives by rules, had thrown it out the window. it only made you more curious as to what would come from it.

surely, you would stick to the scope of your professionalism. at least, what’s left of it. but his lips against yours, the soft drag of them across your skin, the sweet whispers that meant something entirely different after he kissed you….is it really worth the cost of losing your livelihood?

“we should do this more often,” he breathes into your mouth, enveloping your lips between words. “i’m beginning to despise how rare of an occurrence this is.”

“we do this often enough,” you warn him, rising from your place on his lap.

but he doesn’t let you escape. he grabs your wrist and pulls you back into him. your butt is awkwardly positioned near his softened cock but you rest your shoulder on his chest with your arms tucked between your bodies.

“if you don’t wish to do this again, then just say the word. but for now, let’s stay like this a little while longer,” he speaks softly into your hair. “i had a long day.”

“i did, too.” you hum.

his big arms wrapping around you feels foreign. but still, it feels natural to slide your head onto his shoulder and rest in his embrace. you have been intimate with lucifer in more ways than one, but this….sitting in his lap, bare and vulnerable, and holding him back while he kisses and caresses the skin on your neck and shoulders….it’s a different type of intimate.

a type of intimacy you never imagined he would be capable of.

“i hope i made your day better, even in the slightest.”

“trust me, lucifer,” you smirk. “you turned a really shitty day into a really good one.”

the both of you relish in each other’s soft laughter, but taking notice of the darkened sky has you realising this moment will soon come to an end, and you will need to part ways and pretend none of this ever happened, even the new additions to your extra duties to your ceo.

your heart sinks, knowing you have grown fonder of these encounters, fonder of the man beneath you. and you don’t want it to end despite all the alarm systems in your body telling you otherwise.

you ignore them for now, relishing in the warmth from lucifer while he is still here with you.

with a smug smile, you think to yourself: enjoy it while you can.

“and me?” you ask playfully, nudging him to open his eyes. “did i make your day better?”

you hear the soft inhale he takes, discreetly breathing in the air you give and allowing it to settle his beating heart and erratic nerves. you will never know, but even in your no strings attached relationship with him, you turned him from a purely lustful man into a man capable of love.

“yes,” he chuckles, and he looks at you in a way you’ve never been looked at before. lucifer is so adoring in his gaze. “you always do.”

you smile giddily. to yourself, or to him, you’re not quite sure. perhaps it’s the after–effects of your multiple orgasms that have you grinning and kissing him again. or maybe it’s a new chapter unfolding between you.

either way, the future of your position with him and the company is a lot less daunting when lucifer is close to you like this.

“how’s that for stress relief?”

#♡ pearl’s writing #obey me x reader #obey me #obey me smut #obey me lucifer smut #obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me x female reader

[idlesana]

killing me softly (with her song)

lovesick sana x fem reader ; thriller, yandere

summary: in which sana finds herself rapidly loosing grasp over herself, all just for you

warnings: blood, violence, sana being actually insane (i want her ^_^) kidnapping — ty to @jsluvtzu for being such a help during this fic :]

step— step— step

sana’s gentle on her feet, sun beaming down on her while she hums to some 70s R&B— smile plastered on her face.

she beams to those she passes, beams to the stray cats and dogs who roam the streets, beams to everything inanimate, the eagerness in her body manifesting itself in that first-love smile.

she smiles when she walks into the convenience store, quick to grab some random soft drink that she felt inclined to buy after the cute character on it smiled at her.

and of course, she smiles at the cashier when she places the beverage on the counter, moving to fish out her wallet— wait.

she looks back up, brows knitted as she glances to you. and suddenly, sana feels frozen.

you— smiling softly at her, long lashes fluttering with each blink, lips plump and pink.

“are you alright?”

sana breaks out into another smile, moving back to her bag, fetching the wallet, “just fine, miss…?” she looks back up, watching your delicate hands scan the drink, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, watching you.

“y/n.” you hum, typing in something quick on the screen, before turning back to sana, grin just a little wider— which sana credits to herself.

“nice to meet you, y/n. you’re very pretty.”

sana was never opposed to being blatantly honest.

you giggle, sliding the beverage over the counter to sana, looking up at her through your lashes, sana feels her heart stop.

“thank you, ma’am. have a good day.”

she can’t move, again, she doesn’t want to either. she doesn’t want this to end, not yet, it can’t. she simply stares, right into your eyes until someone behind her scoffs, shaking her from the paralysis.

—

sana is quick to recognize the infatuation that mixes in her— no, scratch infatuation, she’s sure it’s love. and she needs, needs to see you again.

didn’t matter the lack of words exchanged, didn’t matter the lack of time spent, sana was dead set on this.

and that’s why she’s here, back roaming down the street, baggy track pants and tight top, hair done all pretty, just for you. smile still settled on her face.

ding!

the bell of the door chimes, echoing in the store, and once she turns to the desk, she sees you. hair half up half down this time, wavy layers set on your back. you turn at the sound of the ding, eyes locking on sana’s, smile growing on your face.

relief.

she sighs, smile softening on her face as she pauses, hand stuttering as it raises to wave at you. she curses herself.

you wave back, no hesitation, giving a quick smile before turning to the customer in front of you, smile still on your face.

jealousy?

sana’s brows furrow, but she shakes it quick, letting herself go back to the fridges.

this time, sana opts to grab a water bottle, bitter taste still in her mouth after seeing how you looked at someone who wasn’t her. the disgusting feeling bubbles deep inside her, but enough to be pushed down— enough to be covered by sana’s unwavering excitement to just talk to you again.

she slugs over to the desk, stretching out the time spent getting there to avoid seeing you with someone else, just the thought corrupting her mind, paining her.

she stares down at her feet as she walks, before hearing you.

“hi again.” your tone is flirty, and effectively shoots sana’s head up, butterflies replacing whatever negative feelings that were looming within her.

whatever grimace that was on her face was easily replaced by a larger than life grin, gently setting the water on the table before you. “hey.”

“just a water today?” you tilt your head and sana swears you’re the cutest thing, she wishes so badly she could grab you up right now.

“uh, yeah.” she mutters, thinking of all the things she could do if you were just hers. she spaces in her thoughts while she admires you, admires the small hum and nod you make, admires it all. she needs to have you.

“alright, pay whenever you’re ready.” you’re looking up at her again, deja vu hitting from the last time she was in this position.

instead of freezing, sana quickly pays, not forgetting to throw you a smile.

“you live around here?” her voice is a little low, and the question is definitely a little odd. your face shifts, and sana grits her teeth, why would she give it up so quick? self anger bubbles in her, not noticing when your expression relaxes,

“yeah, just down the street actually.”

her eyes widen, did you really answer? did you really just reveal that to a stranger? she’s back to smiling, because now she knew you must’ve felt the same back, right?

—

the air is cold, flushing sana’s cheeks despite the sweatsuit she had covering her body, definitely one size too large for her.

but, that was just what she needed, to be shrouded from any curious eyes. to not be perceived as sana, just as a random person.

she stands by a tree, eyeing the apartment building before her, patiently awaiting your arrival. or, maybe not so patiently.

she’d waited, and waited, and waited. sitting in the parking lot until your shift was up, only to follow your car up until you pulled into the parking garage of your complex.

she tilted her head, growing more impatient, trying to remind herself that it was worth it for you. but she couldn’t help the simmering anger because where were you? were you with someone? why was it taking so long?

she cracked her knuckles, then her neck, almost ready to run to the parking garage to find you, until,

you.

long hair cascading down your back, flowing like waves, uniform off, now dressed down in a tee and sweats, soft bracelets decorating your wrist.

sana’s face softened, anger eased inside of her. she eyes you as you pushed your hair back, exposing your gorgeous neck, the one sana wanted to mark up so badly.

god, she needed you.

and god, was it getting so bad.

—

sana couldn’t smile.

not when it had been a whole 16 hours without having seen you.

she was angry, anger near boiling over at this point. she’d been trying to play the long game to have you, but that just felt impossible. you were seraphic, and absolutely divine.

the need was at its height, sana’s heart tightening every minute she wasn’t seeing you.

your social presence was absolutely non-existent, sana has tried, to no avail. she’d do anything to satiate her need, anything for you to finally be hers to see, and only hers.

she was walking, more sprinting, to your work.

baggy white tee pressed flush to her body from the force of the wind, black track pants perfectly loose, cap snug on her head.

her earbuds were on, shuffling her favorite playlist, every song drawing her thoughts deeper into you. you, you, you.

the moonlight beamed down on her, shadowing the top half of her face, her expression blank. sana had never felt so overcome with emotions, and she felt as if she could kill.

she huffed once she reached the store, opening the door wide, only to receive ignorance from you.

sana gritted her teeth harder, about ready to go grab you right then and there, only to realize the man standing in front of you. she immediately paused her music, leaning her head forward just a bit.

his hands were pressed against the counter, leaning over to try and get closer to you. sana felt her eye twitch. he was muttering nonsense, definitely incoherent from where sana stood, now analyzing the man, his dark green tee shirt, navy blue pants. she noted any stand out features, like the over the top sneakers he wore, or the bold rings on his fingers.

sana let her expression fall slack once more, taking careful steps toward him now.

by now, you’d noticed sana, noticed the lack of bright smile she usually wore, noticed the lack of the bubbly girl you knew.

the guy was rambling, chattering about how perfect your body was, how badly he wanted to fuck you in, and you could nearly gag.

once sana could actually make out what he was saying, she immediately felt her blood run hot. felt the way her head was suddenly ringing, the urge burning within her to hurt, and when she turned to meet your expression, seeing your teary eyes, she could hardly hold any of it back.

her breaths came harder as she closed in on the boy, hands tempted to grab the pocket knife in her back pocket, but she opted for something more simple. only because you were watching, of course.

“excuse me.”

sana rested a hand on the man’s shoulder, making sure to lock a firm grip against him. she heard him swear, trying to shimmy out of her grip, struggling hard as sana just tilted her head— a spider watching its prey writhe.

“what do you think you’re doing, freak!” he shouted, sana saw as you flinched, and immediately tugged him harder, forcing him away from the counter.

“don’t you find that ironic? you’re here harassing a girl, specifically, my girlfriend.” sana knew it wasn’t true, not yet, but pride soared in her heart, despite the disgusting situation. you didn’t react apart from a faint blush rising to your cheeks, sana wanted to smile, but as long as this man was in her perspective, she couldn’t enjoy you as thoroughly.

in sana’s head, that was the worst crime.

“leave.” she growled, swinging her arm and pushing him in the direction of the door. he just stood there, eyeing her before, swiftly turning away, heading in the direction of the parking lot— sana chose to keep that tight in her memory.

she looked back to you, seeing the relief wash over your face, and finally, she could enjoy you, no distractions, no one else, just you.

her own relief settled in her body, taking small steps forward to the register, giving you a warm smile.

“are you alright?”

you could only stare back at her, eyes watering, before you reached out to tug her into a hug.

sana felt her heart race, if looking at you was enough to make her heart flutter; then how could she even define how she felt having you holding her tight?

she immediately swung arms around you as best as she could from across the counter, nuzzling her nose in your hair, breathing in your scent.

she exhaled shakily, her body now on its own accord, feeling nearly everything at once.

“i was so scared.” you mumbled into her neck, the vibrations sending a pulse of need coursing through her body.

“it’s okay.” sana mumbled, petting your hair now with one hand, fingers occasionally brushing your neck. skin so soft and hair so silky, sana wanted her hands on you forever.

she felt you move to pull away, and as much as she wanted to hold on forever, she did have newfound business to attend to.

“did you… did you need something?” you asked, eyeing sana up and down, only worsening her wants from you.

she most definitely needed something, but that can wait.

“i- uh, i was just in the area, actually.” she excused, lifting hands to wave around as she spoke.

you slowly nodded, glancing up and down one more time.

“well, you look pretty today.” you smiled, fluttering your lashes at her. oh, god were you making this hard.

“you always look gorgeous, y/n.” she replied, eyes never daring to leave yours. you blushed, looking away and shrugging.

“well, i should probably get going. make it home safe tonight.” sana muttered, fighting an inner battle to leave, but when a customer walked in, she knew she had to make her move.

“alright, bye sana. see you.”

—

sana was out the door, clicking play on her music, turning it up, enough to muffle the sounds around her, but to not fully close off her hearing.

she tugged her cap down lower, slipping her pocket knife into her hand, then stuffing said hand into her front pocket, still clutching it tight.

she peeked over the edge of the wall, immediately catching the man, his rings shining from the lamp he leaned against, the light softly flickering to illuminate him just right. just enough for sana to tell it was him.

she smiled, soft on her face as her eyes narrowed.

strumming my pain with his fingers

she cracked her neck, swooping past the wall into view, man not bothering to glance up from his phone. she took casual steps, not bothering to sneak around, not like it’d matter.

crunchhh!

she raises a brow, not bothering to look at whatever she stepped on, opting to crunch it harder under her foot, undoubtedly gaining the attention of the man before her.

he glances up, confusion ridden on his face, clicking his phone off and into his pocket. the lights flicker.

“what are you doing?”

one time, one time

it’s hard to make him out, especially at the distance, but sana could tell given the situation what he was saying.

“couldn’t i ask you the same thing?” she takes a step closer, foot kicking back whatever she stepped on. her fingers toy with the knife in her pocket, tracing the cool metal with her fingertips. she pauses, eyeing him curiously, catching his jaw clench between flickers.

“is it any of your business?” he scoffs, pushing leg back from the post, moving forward, just enough to be shadowed from the light, only his silhouette visible.

“is it not?” her fingers tease the latch to open the knife, brushing over it gently, her own jaw tightening.

“i don’t really think it is, miss.” he chuckles, closing in closer.

singing my life with his words

“is that so?” her tone is flat, pressing closer, now within arms length of the man, posture straight and head tilted up, rim of her cap still down.

“yeah, unfortunately it is. why don’t you head home?” he nods at her, motioning her to leave, hands at his front, crossed at his chest.

sana feels her blood boil, a raw rage enveloping her body, a scary one. the bloodlust making her lose control of her own actions. she needed this man to suffer at her hand, he deserved it, did he not?

she takes another step closer, man raising a brow, letting out a low scoff-like laugh.

her mouth partially opens, heavy pants falling from her lips, before she retracts her fist, swinging as hard as she could.

crrrack!

sana licks her lips, the feeling of bone beneath her own knuckles euphoric, “fuck.” she mutters, grin settling on her face.

the man stumbles back, groaning and pulling a hand up to his jaw, rubbing only to cry out, pain only enhancing at his meek attempts to soothe.

“what’s— fuck, what’s wrong with you?!” he shouts, jaw dropped, brows furrowed, fingers clenching to fists before him.

“are you not the one sitting here waiting to harass a woman?” sana frowns, walking to where the man stumbled, digging her foot to the top of his, making him wince.

"you--! you bitch!"

he swings.

and he hits.

two times, two times

sana feels her stomach start to burn, slightly hunching over to cough, bringing her empty hand to her mouth. and when she pulls it away, she sees red, thick in the palm of her hand, and it only makes the vexation in her build. she forces out a chuckle, beyond shocked at the pure mistake this man made.

"fuck, you're gonna regret that so bad." sana manages to laugh out, voice hoarse as she glances back up to the guy, his face contorted in one of fear.

sana trudges over to him, soft giggles escaping between her huffs for air.

he stills, too scared to move, a deer in headlights when sana looks up at him. she lifts her other hand to him, object in her grasp undefinable, before she flicks her finger back, blade clicking into position, pointed directly at his neck.

killing me softly with his song

sana drives her hand forward, effectively slicing the corner of the man’s neck, smile growing on her face as he begins to plead for mercy, pleads that he’ll ‘do anything!’.

she loves it.

she tugs the knife out, blood splatting on the side of her face, from neck to the middle of her cheek, warmth seeping into her skin, she can only smile harder.

“p-please! anything! i’ll do anything at all!” his voice is strangled, and one of his hands rises to the gash at the side of his throat, not center enough to cause major damages, just a whole lot of pain.

sana rolls her eyes, scoffing, attitude to his pleasing seemingly changed.

“you already messed with my y/n, do you think anything on this planet is enough to compensate for that?” sana sees red, in far more than one way.

she grabs his shoulder, similarly to how she was before, but now she could act freely on those urges she felt, digging the blade into his side.

killing me softly with his song, telling my whole life with his words.

she’s precise, choosing not to end him quick, no, no, sana wants this to really last.

“how does that feel? tell me and maybe i’ll think about letting you go.” she tries not to laugh, she’d never think about letting him go, but she just loves the desperate pleas.

“c-cold!” it’s near a scream, and sana just can’t have that.

the knife twists in his side, squelching and cracking echoing in the lot as his body is turned to mush.

he yells out again, sana rolling her eyes, seems he can’t take a clue.

“fucking loser, i bet this is the most attention a woman has ever given you.”

she drags the knife out of the sloppy mess in the side of his body, admiring the blood as it shimmers with the moon, thick and deep red. sana feels a new pressure in her stomach, one of something more sinful.

“fuck…”

she can only imagine how pretty your blood would be.

she shakes the thought, smacking herself softly with the tip of the knife, more sticky red coating her face, now up to her brow.

“focus, sana!”

she turns back to the man, now grasping his stomach on the floor, quietly groaning in pain, eyes firmly shut. he tries to push his body away from her and it’s just so pathetic.

she shakes her head, how weak.

sana drops to her knees, eyes lingering over the mess of his body. she inhales, content, and exhales, ready to finish what she started.

“this was deserved, you and i both know it.”

she sinks the blade into his chest, watching as he spasms on the ground, delighted when the blood spurts up onto her tee and her arms. he twitches, just a little longer, and sana tilts her head, admiring it, such a raw moment, the last ones this man would ever live. his twitching starts to stutter, fading out as he goes limp, sana sighing, sinking the blade in a little deeper, just to hear the messy wet sound it makes.

killing me softly with his song

she hums, swiftly drawing the knife out of him, standing up to enjoy her work, pulling the knife up to tap on her own neck, occasionally tracing it over her pulse point, such little pressure away from sinking in. she pauses her music, sighing to herself, listening to the rustle of trees and beyond.

and then, she catches it, the closing of the front door to your work.

fuck.

sana looks around, only seeing some smaller pallets and a large trash can to duck behind, both unfortunately close to the only car in the lot, which must’ve been yours.

fuck.

sana bolted back, tucking herself behind the trash can, peeking through the pallets to try and see what happens.

she didn’t mean for you to see this, never, so when she watches you round the corner, jaw dropping and hand rising to your mouth in fear, her heart burns.

you scream, knees buckling as you fall to the floor, eyes wide in horror. you cant find any words, or any motivation to move, just shock coursing through your veins as you stare at the mangled body mere inches from your car.

sana pouts, seeing the fear written on your face and she huffs, forcing herself to look away before she tries to run out there and comfort you.

she throws her head back, pure instinct before realizing what she did, the echoey thud of the trash can making her cringe.

fuck.

you hear it, obviously, eyes even larger than before, moving to your feet, trying not to step on anything loud.

the only way out is your car, parked directly next to the trash can, so with the steadiest steps you can, you move to the vehicle.

sana, thinks you’re trying to see who made that sound, her hand immediately moving to her mouth, preventing any sound from slipping, any breath from falling. this could be it for her, for you, for the two of you. the thought alone made the worst sinking feeling settle in her. tears burned at her eyes, hands shaking and grip getting tighter over the knife.

but before she knew it, her panic came to halt, hearing you unlock and slam the car door.

sana lives another day.

—

it’s 3:24 pm

sana feels like she’s going insane, she hasn’t seen you in a day and a half now, and you weren’t at work when she checked yesterday, much to her dismay.

in fact, the whole place has been closed temporarily after the killing, so she had to take matters into her own hands to bump into you.

so all morning, she’d been doing laps around your apartment complex, silently praying she bumps into you, praying she can see you now.

she reaches the the front of your complex once more, stopping at the bench that sits in front to take a breather, as she has every lap now. she lifts her tee up, patting her sweat from her forehead, then moving to her neck, tilting her head back just a little.

“sana?”

her heart stops.

she drops everything she’s doing, turning and meeting, of course, your eyes.

“y-y/n?” she’s beyond ecstatic, not even bothering to hide her excitement, eyes widening and smile starting to stretch on her face.

you chuckle, shaking your head slightly before walking over to her, sitting right next to her.

“what are you doing here?” you smile, grabbing one of her hands in your own— it’s a perfect fit, her bigger hands enveloping your smaller ones. you’re just so so soft and perfect all over.

“i could ask you the same right?” sana laughs, lie rolling off her tongue easily.

“i guess you’re right, i live right around here.” you shrug, eyes lowering to her lips. she grins.

“yeah? me too. i usually come around her for cardio, it’s peaceful.”

she wasn’t really wrong, recently she had been lurking in this area on her morning runs.

“oh, that’s cool!” you say, looking back up to her eyes, giving her the sweetest smile.

“yeah, you know, i was actually wondering if you maybe wanted to…” sana looks around, she can’t believe she’s actually nervous, not like you’d say no to her, right?

“come over? i can cook you dinner, it’ll be a super laid back home-y date.” she flashes the smile she sent you the first day she saw you, praying to anything that you would say yes, that she’d finally, finally have you where she wants you.

you’d finally be at her hands, from then until forever. just how she wanted.

you look at her, knitting brows together as you thought, looking around before shrugging, smile plastered on your face once more.

“that sounds perfect!”

—

sana was sat, antsy on her couch, knee bouncing up and down as excitement jolted through her body.

she stared at the door, waiting for your knock, opting to watch it for the last hour instead of look at her phone, or even bother cooking the dinner she said she would.

it could all wait for once you woke up.

ding!

sana squeals, rising onto her feet and bouncing to the door, not forgetting to grab her pretty pink handkerchief, doused in a generous helping of chloroform. she put the hand behind her back, stepping up to the door before swinging it open.

and you looked stunning.

you hair was done all pretty, makeup too, and you wore the perfect jeans and feminine top. sana just couldn’t wait.

“y/n!” she smiled, opening the door a little wider, motioning with her head to come in.

“hi sana.” you giggled back. the lack of smell in the house confused you, but maybe she waited to cook until you arrived, so you shrugged it off, standing and admiring the large penthouse before you.

“wow sana, it’s so pretty here!” you hummed, clasping your hands togetehr in front of you.

“ah, thanks y/n, that means a bunch.” she lingers behind you; watching as you excitedly glance around.

“so, what’s the plan for— mmph!”

your cut off as soon as your turn to her, her hand pressing the cloth to your nostrils and mouth, other one locking around your waist, ensuring you don’t move while the anesthetic kicks in.

“hey, don’t worry, y/n. it’ll be fine, really.” she smiles, eyes softening as you tried to wiggle out of her grasp. she pulls you closer, bodies flush together and her lips gracing your ear, it’s a bit uncomfortable for her hand that’s pressed against your mouth, but it’s okay for sana to bare.

“don’t make this harder than it has to be, baby. i’m gonna treat you like the princess you are, no need to fight that right?” her breath is hot and damp in your ear, and sends a shudder down your spine. you start to feel more dizzy, your struggles to escape backfiring as you panted in more air.

“that’s a good girl, relax for me baby, i swear, i’ll love you just right.”

she pushes the two of you to the couch, you very clearly stumbling, pulling the both of you into it, where sana grabs the remote, clicking play, and starting up her favorite song. humming along to it gently as she holds you tight, pressing kisses into your hair.

strumming my pain with his fingers

you feel yourself slipping, eyes harder to keep open.

singing my life with his words

sana sings along into you, vibrations only easing your further into slumber, you try so hard to hold on, but you know there’s no use.

“that’s it, that’s my baby, just let go for me.”

you start to slip, feeling yourself on the brink of passing out, the drowsiness striking hard. and the next time you blink, you’re out.

killing my softly with his song

#sana imagines #sana x reader #sana scenarios #sana imagine #minatozaki sana x reaeder #twice imagines #twice x reader #yandere sana #sana smut #twice sana x reader

[avatar-saiki]

Mammon's Morning Wood

Mammon/AFAB reader (you/your pronouns) 4.2k words

CW: NSFW, oral sex, vaginal fingering

Summary: Mammon wakes up with morning wood and you help him out (written as an established relationship and with a personal head canon that every demon has a small bathroom connected to their rooms because plot convenience).

Another notification rang through his D.D.D., its chirps cutting through the morning haze and rousing him from sleep. Blindly, he felt around until he found it buried in the covers and clicked a button to snooze the alarm.

“Mm…” 

Warmth pressed closer to his chest, a soft floral fragrance tickling his nose. He smiled and nuzzled into your hair, wrapping his arm around your waist to enjoy this for a moment longer.

Until another flurry of dings and chirps began to play through the small speaker buried in the sheets.

“Mm… Mammon…” your sleepy voice croaked, “Turn it off…”

He felt around again and silenced it, but judging by those alerts it was probably some chat conversation he’d have to catch up on. Or Lucifer was trying to get ahold of him to harass him about last night’s party.

Which was totally unfair. Asmodeus was there too and the drinking didn’t get that carried away until he started with his games. Come to think of it, how much had he ended up drinking anyway? He rolled over onto his back and squinted at the screen, lowering the brightness down as far as it’d allow while scrolling through the messages just as a small headache was blossoming. Nothing a little extra sleep couldn’t fix, but turning off the screen and tossing it away worked so much better.

His human rolling over and snuggling up close to him helped plenty~

He looked up at their reflections in the mirror overhead, trying to remember just what had happened last night. You were wearing his shirt, that was a good sign, but you also still had one of your sandals on.

“Hey,” he whispered, watching himself reach around to shake you gently. “Hey, do you remember what happened after the party? Before we went to bed?”

Your face crinkled adorably and you nuzzled closer, tucking your face into his side.

“Oi, don’t do that,” he said in a surprised whisper. “I probably stink!”

You grumbled but wouldn’t budge. If anything, you burrowed closer as if seeking his warmth to hide from the waking world.

So cute. He smiled to himself and looked up at your reflections again, wishing he could enjoy this feeling a little longer but the damn pain in his head was starting to creep in. Washing his face might clear it. Maybe.

He sighed and gently disentangled himself from you, replacing himself with his pillow. Not the same, but should stay warm for a few minutes longer while he brushed his teeth. His heart leapt when you hugged it tight, nuzzling in with a deep breath as if to breathe in his very scent.

So precious. He sat at the edge of the bed and checked his D.D.D. for the time. Still early, plenty of time to let you sleep till breakfast. It was colder than usual though.

“Need pants,” he muttered under his breath, getting up and grabbing a pair of sweats off the floor.

“Mamm?”

He tugged them up over his waist, taking a moment to adjust himself with his back toward you before he looked over his shoulder to meet your questioning eyes.

“I’m just gonna go brush my teeth and wash my face,” he said softly, “I ain’t goin’ far, go back to sleep.”

Soothed, your eyes closed again and you nodded, holding his pillow close.

Ugh, sometimes it was so unfair how cute you could be or the thoughts that would stir in his mind if he lingered too long. Later. You were too tired and probably hungover too anyway. He turned and quietly walked over to the bathroom, leaving the door open just a crack so you could hear him and snapping his fingers to illuminate the glowing crystals overhead.

Instantly he regretted it, the brightness so piercing it took him a second to adjust, the headache coming on full force. He leaned over the counter and squinted at his reflection, his eyes puffy and hair an absolute mess. He watched his reflection and lifted his arm with a curious sniff. Not great, but not bad. He turned on the sink and splashed some water under his arms and across his neck, then leaned over to splash his face, its coolness adding some much needed clarity to the morning slog. 

After toweling off and checking his brow line for any stray hairs, he picked up his toothbrush and squirted a nice dollop of minty freshness on the bristles. Then with one hand still on the counter, he leaned over the sink and started to brush his teeth.

“Mammon?” His name was said so gently, and the door creaked open with your face peering in, glaring up at the glowing crystals.

He leaned over to spit, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Mornin’, did you wanna come brush your teeth too?”

“It’s too early to be awake,” you complained, pushing the door open more and rubbing your eyes.

“It’s not,” he said, picking up his rinse cup and filling it with some water for you. “Here drink some water. You’ll feel better.”

You nodded and walked over to accept the cup, taking a few sips and looking over at your reflection. “Ugh…” you groaned, setting the cup down again. “What happened last night? Did we win?”

He laughed and turned to rinse off his toothbrush. “I… think so? I don’t remember, but if Asmo asks we definitely did.”

You nodded and picked up a brush, closing your eyes again while combing through your hair. 

He picked up the cup and took a sip, swishing it around before spitting in the sink. You’d positioned yourself in such a way that he needed to squeeze passed you to get out the door, but he wanted to give you time to wake up and get ready too.

“‘Scuse,” he said with a hand on your shoulder, “I’m just gonna—”

“I can see your penis.”

He froze and looked down to see the head was peeking just out of the waistband. He chuckled and looked at you through the mirror’s reflection, smirking. “Well yeah,” he said, “you give me morning wood almost every day.”

Your lips pursed. “Did we have sex last night?”

“I’m not sure,” he said, “but I don’t think so? I don’t even remember getting into bed but I think we probably just fell asleep.” He placed his hands on your shoulders and nuzzled the top of your head. “You really did try an’ keep up with us~ I was impressed.”

But you didn’t seem to be. Instead, stubbornly, you said. “I wanted to.”

“I know,” he murmured, kissing your hair. “It’s okay. We both passed out after drinkin’ so much anyway. I do remember you were real flirty and it made Asmo real jealous~”

You pouted, but relented and tilted your head to the side as he kissed down along your temple. “Did you want help with it?”

“With what?” he asked, not sure he was following your meaning.

A subtle smile crossed your face and you turned into him, kissing his chest before looking up at him through your lashes. “Do you need me, love?”

“I always need ya,” he said, running his fingers through your hair. “You know I do.”

“Yes, but…” Your hands were so warm and soft on his chest, eyes alight with mischief as they traveled down to his waistband. “Do you need me?”

Heat rushed to his face and he swallowed, looking down at your fingers sneaking their way into his pants and slowly pulling them down. “I… I’m not gonna ask… it’s okay, I know you’re not feelin’ so g—” He shivered when you reached in and took hold of him, gently caressing his balls with your fingers while feeling his erection with your palm.

“You’re so hard…” you said, feeling over him with such loving care.

“Y-Yeah,” he mumbled. “It gets harder when you touch it, love.”

You grinned up at him and cupped his balls again, pressing your body closer. “You get hard for me?”

“You know I do…” he murmured, headache suddenly not so relevant anymore.

“Let me take care of you,” you said, kissing down his chest as you moved to kneel on the floor. Then you looked up at him and pulled his pants down to his knees, somehow giving him the most innocent expression while his cock extended just a breath from your cheek. “Can I?”

He felt warm, so warm with you smiling up at him. “You don’t hafta… or ask… I mean, shouldn’t I be the one that—”

You turned and held him close, pressing your lips to the base and nuzzling with an affectionate kiss. “You want me, don’t you?” you asked. 

“That ain’t fair,” he murmured, heart picking up when you glanced up at him again, turning to rest your cheek against him, somehow still looking up at him as if you didn’t know exactly what you was doing. “You know I do.”

You smirked a little and closed your eyes, leaning in while lightly caressing your fingers along his length. “You’re so warm… I can feel you getting harder.”

That resonated with him more than he expected, and you giggled.

“You’re such a good boy,” you teased, gently taking hold of him. “Such…” you turned into him again and pressed the flat of you tongue against him and gliding up along the side, gently teasing the tip before licking all the way down again. When he groaned, he could feel your giggle against him and you suckled a loving kiss at mid-length before sitting back on your heels. “A very good boy~”

He leaned forward to rest his hands on the counter, trapping you beneath him and damn if he didn’t enjoy the view. You grinned up at him, giving him a single stroke. 

“So can I?” You asked, reaching up to grab on his pants and tug him closer. “Please~?”

“If you want, but—”

Before he could even say he didn’t mind if you weren’t up for it or had a headache of your own, the warmth of pleasure engulfed him and instead it took everything in him to not immediately thrust into ecstasy.

Your eyes flashed wickedly as your soft little tongue circled slowly, teasing him before you suckled again.

“Oh fuck,” he hissed under his breath, holding the counter tight as a flurry of tingles stirred in his belly. “Babe… go easy on me.”

You giggled and popped off, pressing kisses down his length again. “I can’t help it~ the faces you make are so cute.”

He grunted under his breath. “Yeah, but if you make it feel good too fast it really makes me wanna fuck you.”

“I know,” you murmured, stroking him with a steady pace while looking up at him through your lashes. “I love that look in your eyes most.”

Now the heat rushed upward toward his face, and it must’ve been enough to show because you giggled again.

“Just be good for me and hold still,” you said, sitting up and tucking your hair behind your ear. “If you move too much on your own, I’ll gag.”

“I know,” he mumbled, watching with bated breath as you looked him over as if deciding how you wanted it. He bit his lip, then whined under his breath when you cupped his balls and looked up at him.

“You want me to make you cum?” you asked with a slight tilt of your head.

“Yes,” he whispered.

You grinned and began to stroke him. “I make you feel good, don’t I?”

“Y…Yes,” he whispered, gripping the counter’s edge.

A coy little hum was followed by faster strokes and possessive little kisses just below the head.

“I make you hard, don’t I?”

He blushed and bit his lip, distracted by the tension in his lower abdomen.

“Mammon~?”

“Y-yes,” he said quickly only to moan when you licked away the pre-cum beading at the tip.

“Good boy~” you praised one last time before taking him in, first to swallow him down as far as you could go, then returning to suckling on the tip while you stroked.

He moaned and leaned heavier on the counter, captivated with watching you worship his cock. At first you’d peek up at him now and then, but then you closed your eyes and really got into it. Wetness and slurps coupled with faster strokes were sending his mind reeling, and he looked up in an attempt to distract himself before cumming too fast, but when he saw you head bobbing just above the counter’s reflection…

“L… Little faster,” he whispered, perverse pleasure in watching you go down on him so eagerly, obeying so quickly and picking up the pace. 

Worshipping the Great Mammon… and seeking his pleasure….

“That’s a good human,” he murmured, looking down at you again and holding the back of your head. “Here… let me…” he rocked his hips to rub himself against your tongue and bit his lip again when you relaxed for him so easily, letting him use you. 

“Such a good human,” he praised, moaning under his breath when you answered with a sensual roll of your tongue.

“Fuck…” He let go of your and leaned on the counter again, shallowly rocking his hips while you started to bob again. “Go fast as ya can, love, and I’ll c—”

You really didn’t need any further prompting; eagerly taking hold of him with both hands and working him so expertly. If he didn’t know any better, he might’ve thought you’d sold yourself to Lust but no you were his and only his. He began to whisper meaningless nothings, begging for you to go faster the more the pressure began to build, his balls so heavy and tight—

“N-Nnghh~” he grunted through clenched teeth, rocking his hips forward as a wave of relief crested and warmth flowed. 

You sputtered and sat back with a gasp while his thoughts were still lost amid the sea of ecstasy, his breathy pants filling the space between them for a breath.

Then you sighed and sat down on the floor, taking off his shirt to wipe your mouth. “You came so much,” you said.

“Did I?” he murmured, looking down at you with worry. “Was it too much?”

You looked up at him and grinned. “Nope~ that just means I made you feel real good, doesn’t it? Now move,” you reached up to touch his stomach. “I can’t stand up with you on top of me.”

He couldn’t help smirking at that and you rolled your eyes.

“Mammon, move.”

“Okay, okay,” he mused, reaching down to offer you a hand. “C’mon love, get off the floor.”

You took his hands and he pulled you up to your feet then let out a low whistle when he saw you fully. You always had such sexy lingerie to wear, but it looked like you’d bought another new set just for him. Soft, black lace hung around your hips with a delicate little thong and golden silk bow. The matching bra was equally soft and small, black lace cups supporting below your breasts with golden ribbon laced around your ribs. More black ribbons crisscrossed over your breasts to complete the cup, but…

He swallowed, eyes fixated on your exposed nipples peeking out, excited and perky.

“I wanted to have sex last night…” you whispered softly, bringing your shoulders back. “I’m sorry I wasn’t— h-hey!”

You squealed adorably when he picked you up and sat you down on the counter, still enraptured in admiring the latest wrapping of your choice.

“You bought this for me?” he asked coyly, leaning one hand on the counter and shifting most his weight to the side, really making an effort to play casual while he blatantly stared at your body. You always loved that.

“I did,” you murmured with a pleased hum while you rested against the mirror and spread your legs ever so subtly. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” he said, letting his voice drop low as his greed began to show. “You look pretty.”

“I do?”

He smirked for you, stealing himself an excited little intake of breath.

“Very pretty,” he murmured, lightly tracing his fingertips along your thigh, just enough to make the goosebumps start to appear. “It’s a shame I wasn’t able to enjoy it last night.”

Only… 

Instead you pressed your thighs together and pouted up at him. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, eyes so unbearably sincere. “I was just having so much fun with Asmo too and I didn’t know how much I had—”

He shushed you with a kiss, followed by a little nip on your lip.

“I’m teasing you, love,” he murmured, nuzzling your nose with his. “How bad’s your head hurtin’ that you can’t tell that?”

You made a noise of discontent, and he shushed it with another kiss.

“That’s not nice, Mammon…” you said with a soft whine.

“I know,” he murmured, tracing idle circles on your thigh again. “How can I make it up to ya?”

The subtlest of shivers ran down your leg, and you tilted your chin to ask for another kiss. “What do you have to offer?”

He chuckled and reached up to find the ribbon of your thong, following it along to caress across your belly. “Mm… if you’re still hungover… I could go steal some breakfast for ya for starters,” he said, turning to kiss down your neck. “Let you sleep a little longer~ maybe we could go out for lunch.”

“On a date?” you perked up, tilting your head to the side for him.

“Mhm,” he hummed, opening his mouth to touch his fangs to your skin, teasing you with the promise of a bite that wouldn’t come. “S’one idea…”

You sighed contentedly and your legs relaxed again, spreading ever-so-slightly. “Is that your only idea?”

He chuckled again and tickled your tummy, making you squirm. “I have a few others, mostly ‘cause you know how much I don’t like being in debt.”

“Debt? No,” you leaned away from him, even reached up to grab his chin and push him back to look at his face. “I wanted to make you f—”

He nipped your palm, amused. 

Your cheeks turned pink and you pouted again. “You’re teasing too much.”

He reached up to hold your arm, turning to kiss your inner wrist. “Can’t you tell when I’m flirting with you yet?” he said, kissing further up your arm. “Does your head really hurt?”

“A little…”

“Do you wanna go lay down some more?”

“In… a minute…”

He chuckled and gazed at you, rubbing his cheek against the softness of your inner arm. “Do you need me to make you feel good too?”

Your blush deepened and you nodded.

“Alright,” he murmured, shifting his weight to both feet as he reached down to pinch the ribbons of your thong. “Lemme help you~”

You bit back a smile and wrapped your arms around his neck, lifting your hips so he could slide off your thong with ease. When you sat down on the counter again, he grabbed the backs of your knees and spread your legs further, leaning back to admire you.

“Wait…” he raised a brow, “Are you already wet, love?”

You blushed again and looked away, mumbling, “I like to make you feel good…”

“You’re so sexy,” he said under his breath, unable to resist grabbing your sides and kissing you again. You squeaked in surprise and he took it as an opportunity to deepen the kiss, moaning when he tasted himself on your tongue. Your moans tasted even sweeter, and he joined you when you hugged tighter, threading your fingers through his hair. 

Your body was so soft in his hands, and he could feel every breath expanding in your lungs. Would he ever get used to just how delicate you felt in his hold? Or perhaps…

“Lemme go, love,” he murmured, turning to kiss down your neck again. “I can’t do much if ya hold me too tight.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, your arms relaxing for him. 

“It’s okay~” he mused, giving you a playful nibble while he reached up to rub the underside of your breasts with his thumbs. “Hold me tight later~”

Your breath hitched when he caressed again, this time sweeping his thumbs just below your nipples. “Mammon… I’m not sure if I…”

“I’ll be gentle,” he said, kissing down your chest. “If it bothers ya too much, I’ll stop, okay? But you did clear my headache~”

You laughed and then gasped softly when he latched, capturing your nipple in his mouth and surrounding it with wet heat. Your back arched and he closed his eyes, licking to coax it to harden.

“M-Mammon—” you keened softly, fingers finding his hair again.

He hummed in response, reaching up to cup your other breast, not wanting to leave it wanting while he suckled. Again you gasped, pressing your chest closer while holding him tight, making him chuckle again. Your tits were always so sensitive~

“That feels good,” you whispered, “Pinch me…”

He let out a playful growl and bit around you, drawing out an excited squeal.

“O-Oh!”

Ugh, why did you have to make such delicious sounds?

He let go only to move to the other and latch again, wanting to see both nice and perky.

“Mammon…” you breathed, his name so tender on your tongue while you pet his hair.

Good human.

He hummed again and felt up your thigh, turning his palm up to touch you with his middle finger. Your hips twitched in surprise, but your legs spread further and he took that as an invitation. Your slit was already starting to wet, but he could do better. First gentle strokes, nothing more than enjoying the soft velvet of your inner labia. 

So… soft…

He moaned around you, lazily rolling his tongue around your nipple as blood started to rush south again.

“Mammon…” you whispered again, tugging at his hair. “Don’t… tease….”

“I won’t,” he murmured, pressing his finger in closer until he felt where your opening was. He couldn’t help smirking to himself as he rubbed around it, feeling you squirm and wet even further. 

“Mammonnn,” you whined.

“Are you ready for more?”

“Yes,” you whined, tugging again. “Mammon, don’t tease.”

“Okay, love,” he cooed gently, kissing up your chest to your neck where he nipped your nape. Then he curved his finger and bit back a groan when he felt you clench already. “Whatever you want~” he said, pushing in slowly to his second knuckle.

Your body quivered, so hot and soft and wet. This time he couldn’t hold back the soft moan of appreciation as he started to pump in slowly, curving his finger up to focus on the spot that always seemed to make you writhe.

A pleased sigh tickled his bangs, your arms wrapped around his neck. You slouched back, angling your hips to make it easier for him while one of your legs hooked around his hip.

“More…” you said softly, sending even more blood rushing down.

He groaned under his breath, pumping faster. “How’s that?”

You mewled, hips squirming as you tried to fuck yourself. “More,” you whined.

He pulled out his finger and added a second, pushing them in together until you keened.

“How’s that?” he asked coyly, setting a steady rhythm again and stroking that spot, determined to make you cum. 

Your leg pulled him closer and you held him so tight.

“More,” you panted, arousal lubricating his fingers as clenches began to squeeze even tighter, almost desperately. “M-More—”

He hummed and nipped just below the corner of your jaw, riding out your desperate ruts and using them to find the rhythm you needed. The wetter you got, the harder he felt and he moaned into your neck, losing himself to the sensations. Hot. Wet. Tight. Wet.

Hot.

Hotter.

Tight.

Tighter.

Your legs began to shake and your arms held him so tight.

“M-Mamm—”

Wet.

“M-Mamm-”

Wetter.

The sweetest keen greeted him, a rush of wet and tight surrounding his fingers. He moaned, easing his affections and keeping them in deep as your orgasm rippled around him, your embrace so tight like you needed him to anchor you while your mind slipped into euphoria.

Your breathing eventually settled into deep, greedy gasps, arms relaxing and leg slipping off his hip. He gently pulled out his fingers and stood up enough to see your face, pleased to see you so content. 

“How was that?” he asked, nuzzling your nose again.

“Mm…” you hummed, closing your eyes and nuzzling back. “I feel better~”

“Yeah?” He chuckled. “Glad to hear it.”

“Mm…” you hummed again, petting him and playing with his hair, then lightly scratching his scalp with manicured nails. “Did you get hard again?”

He smirked. “‘Course I did, but only a little. It ain’t anything to worry about.”

Your hands moved to his shoulders, pushing him to stand back. Your eyes were languid, yet mischievous. “Will you carry me to bed?”

“Sure, lemme just—”

You wrapped your legs around his hips and pulled him in close, pressing your wet, hot cunt right up against him.

“And give me more?” You purred, rolling your hips in one, sensual, roll.

He groaned under his breath, making you smile.

“Yeah,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around your lower back and lifting you off the counter, already turning toward the bedroom. “Yeah, I can do that.”

You giggled and crossed your ankles, clinging close and nuzzling into his chest as he carried you. “I love you,” you said.

He kissed your hair, heart full of a warmth he’d never known without you.

“I love you too.”

#obey me smut #obey me mammon #afab reader #gender neutral reader #obey me shall we date #fanfic #reader insert

[hannie-dul-set]

STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE [3].

SYNOPSIS. the saying “never meet your idols” exists for a reason. you just didn’t expect the reason to be because said idols would end up declaring that you’re their alleged lover from a past life (past lives, rather). now you have three big celebrities vying for your attention, and it’s not as dreamlike as you imagined it to be.

PAIRINGS. choi yeonjun, choi soobin, choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRES. reincarnation! au, celebrity! au (soloist! yeonjun, actor! soobin, rock band member! beomgyu), slight college! au, slight historical! au, rom-com, angst, reverse harem woohoo. WARNINGS. swearing, talks about stalking, talks about death, data privacy violations, so much emotional whiplash yummy, a very long conversation, google dependent historical information. WORD COUNT. 6.3k.

NOTE. this chapter finally made its way out hell 😭😭😭 per usual, please let me know your thoughts on the chapter! a single comment on ao3 inspired me to finish this, so ur feedback really means a lot! enjoy<3

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 3 — can we go back to being parasocial?

IF SOMEONE HEARS YOUR SUMMARY OF THE EVENTS THAT UNFOLDED WITHIN THE PAST FEW DAYS, they may accuse you of lying. Delusional, even. You’d think the same had you not been the center of it all— yet the proof is in your pockets. Your phone. In the album Choi Yeonjun failed to sign, stuffed inside your bag at the last minute before you left your apartment earlier.

The summary. Right. Yes.

“Can they stop sharing that video of Yeonjun excessively flirting with a fan?! I’m going to kill myself if I see it one more time.”

You were lucky enough to nab a fansign slot. But instead of getting Choi Yeonjun’s signature, you ended up getting a kiss of a hand instead, along with a scrawl of numbers on your album that you’re far too terrified to try to dial.

“Hey, send me our photo with Soobin the other day,” nudges Huening from beside you. “I’m gonna print it out and put it in a locket and use it as a family heirloom.”

You bumped into one of your favorite actors, Choi Soobin, in the middle of a late night convenience store run with your friends to fuel your group all nighter, stained his shirt with your ice cream, and got a photo with him in the process.

“By the way, have you called the business card yet? What are you gonna do with your broken phone screen?”

And Choi Beomgyu may or may not have professed his undying love for you, asked for your hand in marriage, and started crying in front of you in less than ten fucking minutes.

“She’s zoned out.”

The problem is, you can’t even bask in the delightful absurdity of it all because one common thread from all those three separate instances has been keeping you up for nights. It’s clawing at your brain, lingering in the back of your mind like an incessant stalker— which, mind you, is not a pleasant feeling when the very causes of such disturbance were once the bringers of joy and all things good in your otherwise meaningless life as a cog in the capitalist machinery that is society.

“Hello? Are you awake?”

Said problem being the fact that you’re pretty sure they all called you by your name at one point.

How the fuck do they know your name?

“I deleted Twitter. I Airdropped it to you. No, I have not called it yet. Now please let me think in peace.”

Crazy. This is all too crazy. In the first place, what are the odds that you bump into three celebrities within one week’s time? Is this some sort of prank, or something? Are those three filming a hidden camera show together? No, no. That couldn’t be because there’s no fucking way a company is sane enough to stage a risky hidden camera prank during a fansign knowing full well how obsessive and insane fans can get. You’re lucky your face wasn’t caught in any of the videos circulating online— video of you and Choi Yeonjun, mostly him, acting out a fucking sageuk. You’re lucky you haven’t been doxxed yet.

“Finish your sandwich,” Taehyun clicks his tongue, nudging your food closer to you, and you sigh heavily. Maybe you’re just wrong, you think, taking a bite from the bread. Maybe this is just a misunderstanding. Maybe you’re just overthinking.

You eat your lunch and steal some wet wipes from Gaeul in between. Right. It’s not like you’re ever gonna bump into them again. You live in, as cliche as it sounds, two different worlds after all. You’re just gonna watch their dramas, listen to their music, enjoy their performances, and that’s it that’s it that’s it.

“Prof Jang sent a message. Class is canceled.”

But still—

“Woohoo! Let’s go to the new dessert shop that opened downtown.”

Choi Beomgyu’s voice saying I love you, Choi Soobin’s cologne wafting in the air you were breathing in, and Choi Yeonjun’s lips pressed against your skin.

How can a sane person just forget about all of that?!

“Why do you look like you’re fantasizing about perverted shit?” Woohyun slaps you in the face with a reality check. This is fucking stupid.

“I’m not fantasizing,” you grunt, because they were events that actually fucking happened— they weren’t birthed from your brain’s insanity. “Anyway, dessert? Where is it?” You ignore your burning face, hoping that your friends decide to ignore it too, but Gaeul has her eyes narrowed at you. Crap. She didn’t recognize that it’s you in the videos right? Holy fucking hell, you’d rather die.

“Aren’t you gonna answer that?”

Oh. Well. That’s— that’s something. A good something because she hasn’t suspected you yet, moitioning instead to your cracked phone that has been buzzing under your notice because you’ve been thinking way too fucking much.

You check the caller ID, but it’s an unknown number, and it doesn’t match the business card you got from your run in with the alleged Choi Beomgyu. “Hello?” you answer, and a voice you don’t recognize says your name and asks if it’s you. “Yes, this is her. Who’s this?”

Another item added to the weird as fuck things that happened to your this week. You excuse yourself from your friends, and with knitted brows, you listen to the stranger at the other end of the line. “You met Choi Soobin the other day at a 7-Eleven in Gangnam, right?” The fuck? Did someone see you that day? Is this a stalker? “This is his manager. Lee Byeongho. I would like to speak with you regarding a certain matter.”

Now, hold the fucking phone.

“Is everything alright?”

You respond to Huening’s concern with a stiff smile before turning away from them. “Did I do something wrong?” you fuss into the call. “I didn’t post any of the photos from that day. I never talked about it online either, and I’m pretty sure my friends haven’t either. Wait. Wait a minute. How did you get my number?”

“Yes, it was difficult to obtain knowing only your first name and university.” That doesn’t answer your question. That just gave you more questions. “But, no. You aren’t in trouble. Actually...I called because you’re the only one who can help us— help Soobin— get out of trouble.”

Your face scrunches up.

“I’m at your campus right now. Parking lot. Do you mind meeting me for a moment?”

Just what did you get yourself into?

“You haven’t finished your food. Where are you going?”

“Somewhere,” you reply, quickly snatching your half-eaten sandwich from the table as your friends follow your swift movements with matching looks of confusion. “I’ll be right back. It’s nothing, don’t worry.” However, you are quite worried. You’re pretty sure Lee Manager, or whatever, is committing some data privacy crimes against you, but the one thing you want at the moment is answers. Your brain is about to explode from all the fucking questions and confusion. There’s a sliver of hope that meeting up with this sketchy guy can answer a few of them. You’d take that chance to air out your head.

There’s a black van in the parking lot. It’s the first thing you noticed because one of its doors are open, and there’s a familiar looking guy waiting just in front of the exposed seats. 

He notices you approaching. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” he says. What’s with men you’re meeting for the first time treating you with familiarity? You’re going to rip your hair out and throw yourself into moving traffic.

“Sure, but can you get to the point?” you stiffly say. “I’m a little busy. I still have classes in a bit.”

“Of course, I’m sorry. This whole situation must’ve come off as a shock to you.” Great, now you’re feeling bad. Soobin’s manager (allegedly) looks like he’s been through a whole lot as well. “Anyway. You are a fan of Choi Soobin, correct?”

“Well,” you blink. “Yes.”

“How about the dramas Kang Jaehee has written and directed?” he follows up. “Are you a fan of those as well?”

Your brows furrow. “I guess?” Peach Tree. That Summer. Mogi. Those are the titles that come right at the top of your head. “What does that have to do anything with me?” Manager Lee spares you a look of pity. You feel like this meet-up is just set out to making you even more fucking confused.

“I sincerely apologize. I didn’t want to drag you into this either, but I’m afraid you’re the only option I have,” says Manager Lee despondently. “Since...since you are a fan of Soobin, and I assume that means you also care about his career, so—”

He pauses. Like he’s practicing the next set of words he’s about to say inside his head.

“—do you mind meeting up with him to convince him to take the lead role for Kang Jaehee’s upcoming drama?”

But nothing could’ve prepared you for that.

What.

What the fuck?

“Mr Manager. Sir,” you start, appalled beyond comprehension. “I’d appreciate it if you start making a bit more sense.” 

“Trust me, I can’t believe I’m doing this either.”

You’re speechless. Your mouth is hanging open with no words coming out because, again, what the fuck? Manager Lee looks just as defeated as you, as if he weren’t the one who had just presented that ridiculous proposal. You are, quite frankly, at a discernible loss. 

Manager Lee lets out a sigh and digs a hand into his pocket. “I’m afraid this is all the time I have today. But please contact me once you’ve made a decision.” Another business card acquired. This is just dandy. “I am really hoping for your cooperation, miss. I’m sure you’re aware of Soobin’s inactivity lately, and my intention of approaching you today is simply in order to help my star’s career. Please consider the favor positively, and we will compensate you as much as my authority can allow.”

With that, you’re left with another laminated piece of paper in your hands. Gosh. This is a headache. When you get back to your friends, they notice the distress you’re in, further justifying a visit to the new dessert store, and seeing how your soul has completely left your body, you’re dragged along with them with ease.

“Hey, pick one. My treat,” says Woohyun. You let out a grunt and point at a random pastry on display. Next thing you know, you’re seated in between Huening and Gaeul at the store you don’t even know the name of. 

Huening is force feeding you an eclair. “Eat.” Your scowl disappears when you allow the eclair entry into your mouth. “Seriously, what’s going on with you? Who did you meet earlier?” 

Seeing as you show absolutely no intentions of telling them, they refuse to question you about it further. Good on them, because there’s no way in hell you’re spilling your predicament. Not until you find out exactly what kind of situation you’re in, at the very least. The two business cards feel like they’re weighing your pockets down, a constant reminder of their existence along with the scrawl Yeonjun left behind.  

“I know exactly how to make you feel better.”

The declaration comes from Gaeul, who slides her phone over to you, and when you look down to see what exactly her miracle medicine is to make you feel less manic, you hack out a cough upon seeing Choi Yeonjun’s face on her phone screen. “The hell is wrong with you?” asks Taehyun from across, giving you some water to push down the eclair lodged in your throat. “I know you like him, but even that is an overreaction.”

Jesus, you’re close to losing it. When you’ve avoided choking to death, Gaeul puts an airpod into your ear, and you hear Yeonjun reading out some comments. “Choi Yeonjun, you look really happy lately, did something good happen? someone asked,” he says while having snacks of his own. “First of all, why are you calling me Choi Yeonjun? It’s like you’re putting a wall between us. I don’t like it.”

Gaeul makes a noise of some sort and had you not been subjected to this week’s insanities, you might have reacted the same way too. Instead, you simply listen to his live in caution, feigning disinterest as you watch him nibble on some pretzels and churros through the screen, continuing to answer the slew of questions in the comments.

“Anyway, you’re right! Something good did happen.” Yeonjun hums while picking out a pretzel from the paper bag, rustling noise and a lively tune filling the audio for a moment— a short moment, right before he continues speaking. “That’s because I finally met the love of my life.”

Taehyun has to give you his water again.

“Oh? Oho, what’s with the exclamation points?” he laughs. “Did I meet them the other day? Hmm...that’s a secret. You’re curious? You think it might be you? Well, let’s see. Should I describe her?”

“God, he’s so fucking messy,” says Gaeul from beside you. “This is why I like him. How many calls is he getting for his manager and company this time?”

“What’s going on? Why is she so startled?”

“Yeonjun’s talking about his apparent soulmate, I don’t know. Wanna listen?”

“Didn’t he get in trouble for doing the same thing last time too?”

Now, you’re not one to give a shit about his love life, and you like to stay out of that side of celebrity gossip as much as you can, but Choi Yeonjun himself is droning on about the love of his life right now. You can’t not hear about it even if you want to. However, as much as you want to let things come into one ear and out through the other, you can’t. Because— wait. Wait. His description is eerily familiar. His description is making you double take and second guess what you’re fucking hearing.

“Sounds a lot like you,” Taehyun remarks without much thought, right after Choi Yeonjun says that the girl he likes has a bit of an attitude, but he likes that about her.

Huening lets out a snort. “Yeah, that’s definitely you. Why don’t you go in a wedding dress the next time you attend a fansign? Who knows, you might have a shot.”

You snap them a dirty look. Fuck. This is making your head spin. For the second time, Choi Yeonjun’s tendency of putting himself into headlines and the trending searches for doing something insane is giving you nothing but stress.

“I did give her my number, but she hasn’t messaged me yet, so I’m quite hurt.”

Number. Hold on a fucking second.

“The comments are going crazy.”

You grab your bag from underneath you, dropping it down to your lap.

“Hey, if you’re watching this, pl—eeeeease contact me. Kim Noona thinks I have a phone addiction now because I’ve been dying waiting for your call.”

You quickly get up from your seat.

“Yo, where are you going this time?”

“I need a minute,” you announce, eyes scanning the store for a quiet place alone while hugging your bag to your chest. There’s nowhere. Looks like you have to get out. 

“Damn, we were just joking. As if you have a chance with a celebrity like him.”

Huening’s joke is ignored and you quickly leave outside the doors, making a sharp turn around the corner, slipping through the passersby downtown until you find an empty alley. Your heart is racing. Your heart is racing like crazy and you may be reaching right now. You may be acting crazy, but what Choi Beomgyu said during the interview with Yeong-Il the other day is echoing in your mind, and— in conjunction with everything else that had happened— you’re starting to think that maybe he wasn’t joking.

Your cracked phone screen greets you when you take it out of your pocket. On your other hand is the first business card you got this week.

“Who’s this?”

“Hello. Good day.” You tell them your name, the events that led up to you receiving this number, with the hope that maybe you’re finally on to something. “I’d like to talk about the compensation for my broken phone.”

Whatever that something is, you’re gonna get to the bottom of it.

*

It’s already beyond closing time at Kwiyeomdongmoim Cafe (a mouthful, you know), yet your pink apron is still neatly tied around your waist as you pace back and forth, to and fro, in circles inside the breakroom. The time is half-past nine in the evening. You should’ve clocked out thirty minutes ago, but you’re still waiting. 

The knock on the door signified the end of your wait. You turn to see your boss’s head popping in through the half-open crack. 

“Three guys are waiting for you,” informs Seokmin. “They all seem handsome. Are they your suitors?”

When you ditched your friends at the still unnamed dessert store the other day, you did it to make a few calls. Three, to be exact. Today is the culmination of those calls, which is why you’ve been erratically nervous the entire freaking day. Choi Soobin, Choi Beomyu, and Choi Yeonjun’s managers all answered respectively when you called all the sketchy numbers you got and made some negotiations (apparently, the mess on your album is Yeonjun’s number, but he got his phone confiscated after that livestream). 

“As if,” you say, walking up to the door leading back into the cafe. Suitors, more like stalkers. Fans stalking their idols is common, but the other way around is a pretty fresh idea. “Anyway, thanks, Kyeom. Thank you for letting me use the store for a while.” Because this is the only private place you can think of outside of your own home— and there’s no way in hell you’re letting them in there when you don’t even know how they managed to get hold of your personal information.

“We’re closed anyway.” Seokmin smiles and makes way for you to pass by. “Go ahead and do your thing. Do you want me to stay inside or keep watch?” 

“You can stay inside, it’s alright.” 

He nods. “Call me when you’re done. Scream if you need backup. I can handle all of them.”

You laugh and thank him once more, a pat on his arm before you decide to peek out the door first as a precautionary measure. From your spot, you can see three thoroughly covered men in windbreakers, caps, and masks sitting on three separate tables in the store. The blinds have already been rolled down, so you can’t see anything outside, but there doesn’t appear to be any cameras around, so you take it as a safe sign to finally leave your hiding spot.

The moment you do, the break room door creaks, and all three pairs of eyes immediately fall on you. 

They stand up. They call out your name in unison.

Holy shit.

And when they do, they all look at each other with a sudden flash of hostility in the air.

Um. Well. How are you supposed to do this? “H—hello,” you manage to squeak out, prompting their attention once more. Soobin takes off his cap and removes his mask, the other two following suit, and oh my god. Oh my god. You suck in a deep breath. Today, you are not a fan. You are an interrogator. This is not a fansign. This is an interrogation. 

“I— uh, I asked your managers if I can meet you all to—today for a specific reason.” Wow. Good job. Your hands are shaking and you can’t look up from the floor or else you’d start losing your mind. “But—but, before that— would...would you like some drinks…?”

Interrogation paused. You need to get your shit together first.

“Please enjoy.”

With the help of your boss (because your hands wouldn’t stop shaking and you dropped the first one you made), you managed to whip up four iced teas and settle all three of them into one table at the very back of the store. You send a stiff smile at Seokmin after he placed all the drinks on the table.

God, you owe him so much— especially when he’s being unreasonably glared at by the three men sitting with you right now. Choi Beomgyu to your left, Choi Soobin to your right, Choi Yeonjun directly across from you and holy fuck, you have yet to look at them properly yet for your own safety. They haven’t been talking to each other either, simply sitting and waiting for you to speak. You’re pretty sure they know each other though, at least by name, being in the same industry and all. 

To say that the tension in the air is suffocation would be an understatement. How...how do you start this? The fuck should you say first?

“You know, I was really happy when Kim Noona told me you called.”

Apparently you don’t have to start it. Choi Yeonjun does it for you.

“But why are these two crashing our date?”

And that’s when things also start to get messy.

“Date?” Choi Soobin interjects. He sounds offended. Why does he sound offended. “What are you talking about?”

Choi Yeonjun doesn’t get a chance to make his case. Because Choi Beomgyu from your left suddenly snatches one of your hands from the table, prompting you to look at one of them for the first time tonight, and your eyes fly wide open. “I’d...like to apologize for the other day. I was just overtaken by my emotions. I hope you weren’t too freaked out.”

You are quite freaked out because holy shit, this is too much maybe. Not maybe. Yes. This is too much. Too. Much.“Hey, why are you holding her hand?!” you hear Choi Soobin exclaim from your other side. Choi Beomgyu’s soft expression suddenly disappears into a glare and a sneer the moment he shifts his gaze.

“You’re holding her hand too!”

“Why can’t I?!”

“Hey, this isn’t fair! One of you switch with me—”

Dizzy. You’re feeling dizzy. Your head is spinning and you’re suffocating from the heat emanating from your very face. Whatever they’re arguing about isn’t even reaching your ears anymore. You’re getting lightheaded and your sweaty hands start slipping out from the two’s weirdly tender hold on your hands because your body is physically breaking down.

“Shut up! Oh my god, my head—”

Your vision actually starts spinning for a second so you quickly bring the bottom of your palms to your temples, elbows on the table to balance yourself, only to be wobbled and shaken because the three suddenly jolted off their seats in panic.

“Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine, just please—for the love of god— sit down and shut up.”

They sit down and shut up. You massage your temples in silence. You remove your hands from your face and, after sucking in a deep breath and releasing it thereafter, feel your heartbeat settling into a normal rate. As normal as it can get in this situation.

“Whew. Okay. I think I’m ready. Let’s get down to business.” Finally, you’re the one steering the conversation. You give each of them a once over as quickly as possible because now you know that prolonged eye contact will only hurt you. You settle with looking at the gaps between each of them. That’s fine. You’re fine. “Choi Soobin, Choi Yeonjun, Choi Beomgyu.”

It’s like three bulbs just lit up in succession. Your brain is starting to hurt.

“A—as I was saying, you three are some of South Korea’s biggest celebrities and although I am, in fact, a big fan of all three of you—” Why is Choi Soobin growing pink. Why the fuck is he blushing. “—that— that does not make me fail to recognize the amount of weird shit that’s been happening lately, and I think I need answers.”

They are still sitting down and shutting up. They listen to instructions well, at the very least.

“First, how the fuck did all three of you know my name without any prior introduction. Second—”

The words get clamped in your throat. It’s lodged in there very tightly because you make the mistake of looking one of them in the eye, only to notice that all three of them are looking at you with the same expression. An expression you can only describe as longing.

And your face starts burning.

“Se— second, why…why do you all keep looking at me like I’m an ex you want to get back together with…?”

Maybe you asked the wrong question.

Because for some reason they all look sad now. Really sad. Really fucking sad and it’s making your stomach clench and nerves all numb and funky because making three big celebrities all sad simultaneously is a bragging right at one end of the spectrum, and a national crime at the other.

It’s Choi Soobin who cracks the silence. “I…I had a feeling when I saw you again for the first time at the store.” Again? “Do you not remember me?”

Your face furrows. “No…? Did we ever meet before you became an actor?”

Hurt. The look of sadness has now spiraled into hurt and one might think you just stabbed and twisted a knife into his fucking gut.  “How—how about me?” Your attention turns to Choi Yeonjun who isn’t looking any better. It’s like his entire world view was just proven to be wrong and why does it feel like you’re the one to blame. 

What else can you do but shake your head in denial? Now he looks like he’d just been told he’s adopted!

“You’re…you’re joking,” he tries to laugh it off, but it only comes off as strained and shaky, then, in one fell swoop— desperate. “R—right…?”

“Great!”

Before you start feeling even shittier, Choi Beomgyu finally decides to join in. 

“And here I thought her forgetting about me was the worst case scenario.” His tone is bitter. There’s a snap in his words. “I didn’t think there’d be other bastards in the same situation as me. God fucking damn it.”

There’s a moment of silence. You watch as realization hits the other while you’re still left in the dark. Choi Yeonjun juts his seat closer. Choi Soobin tries to reach a hesitant arm to your direction, but you’re  tugged to the other side by Choi Beomgyu, who’s suddenly a little too, too close.

“Hey.”

Your hands are clamped together. 

“I meant it when I said I love you. I do. I have loved you four hundred years ago and I still love you now, and if whatever god or deity decides to make you meet you for the third time, I’ll still love you then.”

Beomgyu’s holding both of them in between his in a firm grip.

“Second life is about you. Blue Spring is about you. You’re the person I’ve been waiting for from the beginning of this life until the last.”

Now, if this situation wasn’t crazy, your heart would be skipping a beat right now.

But it is crazy. This is fucking insane. And you look around to see that there’s a weird look of sympathy and understanding in the other Choi’s eyes, clearly not recognizing the visceral insanity of this situation, which fills you with a swallowing lump of existential dread. You pry your hands out of Beomgyu’s grasp (you swear you can hear glass breaking), and slowly turn to Choi Yeonjun and say, with a very hesitant, very cautious, “Y...you too…?”

The look on his face says it all. And then you swivel over to Choi Soobin.

“And you?” 

“I’ve lo—”

“No!” you snap. “Don’t finish that sentence. Please. Oh my god.”

You see Seokmin popping his head out from the corner, mouthing an are you okay? and you shakily bring up a weak thumbs up. “Well, isn’t this interesting,” you hear Choi Yeonjun say, which feels like a slap in the face because what exactly is interesting about this. “Here I thought I was special.”

“Get off your high horse,” retorts Choi Soobin, a sneer in his voice. You double take. Choi Soobin is supposed to be sweet and gentle and kind. Who is this man? “Whatever kind of past you had with her doesn’t mean anything. I met her first. I met her at the end of King Danjong’s rule.”

“Ha!” Choi Yeonjun starts. “We got married under King Taejong. I’ve loved her before any of you did.”

Now, what the fuck?

Choi Soobin’s face pales and he chokes over his words. “M—married?”

There’s a smug grin on Choi Yeonjun’s face. He leans back against the chair with his arms crossed in victory. “You heard that correctly. Married. Pack up your bags. Unless you want me to tell you everything we did on our we—”

“Shut up, shut up, I don’t want to hear it!”

Marriage. King Danjong. King Taejong. Second life. The gears are churning inside your head. You don’t like the direction where the gears are pointing.

“What about you?”

Choi Yeonjun raises the question and the attention is now on Choi Beomgyu. He’s been quiet. The other two wait for him to say his piece— a feigned air of disdain and arrogance but there’s an unconcealable undertone of nervousness underneath it all. Your iced teas have been left untouched. Choi Beomgyu simply scoffs and presses his crossed arms against his chest.

“I have no reason to tell you any of that. This is between me and her.”

And at your mention, you receive the undivided attention of three pairs of eyes once more. Your heart rattles. God fucking damn it. Listen, you’re an avid consumer of the entertainment industry. You’ve watched a good amount of dramas and have read a good amount of manhwas to surmise a conclusion with the bits and pieces of stray information being tossed back and forth between the three. And it’s all ridiculous. But you have nothing else to work with unless they come spilling their guts themselves.

“So,” you clear your throat. “Are you three, like…a couple…hundred years old…?”

They all look offended. 

“No!”

Well, maybe you’re wrong about that part. But after a very long, convoluted discussion, the “facts” (if you can even call it that), are finally laid down on your feet.

They say you’ve all met before. Separately, in three separate lifetimes, with this one allegedly being your fourth unless there were lives in between that they can’t remember. One thing for certain is that the three of them remember the life they had while loving you— and they loved you very much apparently because those feelings and memories got carried over even after they got reborn into the present day.

The problem is, you don’t have the same symptoms. You don’t remember anything about your past lives. Hell, you can’t even remember anything in this life before you hit two years old. 

You slump in your seat. The table rattles. They get up from their chairs and come circling around you in concern.

“Are— are you okay, do you need to lie down? You could rest in my van for a while and—”

You swat Choi Yeonjun’s hand away before it could land on your shoulder. You’ve now got your hands on your face in stress, and peeking through you see Choi Soobin on your right, crouching down and looking up at you with furrowed brows and big, sad eyes. On your left is Choi Beomgyu, half-seated on the chair. You let out a very long, very anguished and muffled groan. This is too much. “If— if what you guys are saying is true,” you say. “What does it matter?”

There’s a tense pause in the air. 

“What do you mean…?”

You spring up from your seat and turn around, Choi Yeonjun in front of you. 

“I mean what does it all matter? King Sejeong, Joseon era, or whatever— I don’t care about all of that. We’re in the twenty-first century right now. I’m neither your lover nor your wife. I’m just a fan of your dramas and music and performances and that's it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. You don’t really want to see their faces right now. You let a huff of air slip past your lips, turning back around to collect the untouched glasses of drinks on the table.

“Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to meet me and explain. I hope it’s all settled. Thanks for clearing everything up today. You can now all leave.”

It’s Choi Yeonjun who races after you when you make your firm and quick strides to the counter. He cuts off your path. “I—I don’t understand,” he chokes out. You make the mistake of meeting his gaze and see the threat of tears glazing his eyes. “What—what do you mean?”

Admittedly, that hurled a giant pang against your ribcage, knocking the air out of your chest, but you move forward. You brush past him, setting the glasses back on the counter, and— after a moment’s pause— you turn around, a heavy weight on your shoulders. It’s like gravity is trying to suck you deep into the mantle. “What I’m trying to say is we should all just get over what happened all those hundreds of years ago and live our lives in the present. I mean, I don’t know any of you. Don’t you think it’s unhealthy to keep clinging onto the past, especially when you guys are nothing but strangers to me in this life?”

Dead silence. You don’t dare look at any of them in the face. You try and retreat to the break room as quickly as you can, hands fumbling to untie your apron along the way, but you stumble over your steps, screeching to a halt the moment you hear someone say—

“Do you think it’s that easy?”

You could hear your heart in your eardrums. 

It takes all the strength in your body for you to look back, to see the pained expression on Choi Beomgyu’s face standing the farthest away from you out of the three. “Do you think I put my name out there so that it’d be easier for you to find me, wrote all those songs about you in the hopes that I could see you again if you’re someone I can just easily forget?”

Your throat tightens. It’s like you’re swallowing a boulder.

“If you wanted me to forget about you, you shouldn’t have died right in front of me then. You shouldn’t have told me you loved me right before you went cold in my arms if you wanted me to fucking forget.”

Oh.

Oh, god.

Choi Yeonjun and Choi Soobin don’t look any better. It hits you that you might have been more than a little bit unfair.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t know your history. You don’t know what the fuck happened between you and them throughout those years that made them feel so strongly about you. But it must be harder for those who remember than for those who forgot.

It’s not like they chose to live in the present with half of their souls stuck in the past, either. You’ve been acting awfully unfair.

“I was being insensitive. I’m so sorry,” you exhale. Your knees feel like they’re about to buckle. Your head is spinning in circles. “But to be honest, this is all still very overwhelming, and I’m having a hard time comprehending and making sense of everything. It doesn’t feel real.” You try to take a step closer, but your legs give in. Choi Yeonjun quickly rushes to balance you back on your feet.

“Don’t push yourself,” he says, softly. You can’t look at him. God, these guys really know how to bring your guilt all the way home.

“Thanks, um, anyway—” You breathe in. Shit, you can’t believe you’re considering this. “Again, I really can’t and won’t be able to understand the magnitude of your— well, uh— feelings, since I really don’t remember anything. But how about…I spend some time with each of you individually, and maybe…maybe it can help in jogging back my memories?”

The atmosphere shifts. Ah. This feels like a fucking trap.

“You— you mean it?”

To be honest, you’d much rather just not deal with any of this, just stay at home and continue living your life with these three men as persons you only know behind the screen. But those looks in their eyes— hopeful and melancholic— make you feel your organs are being rearranged every five seconds, and you’d feel bad leaving them with the pain of this conversation especially after they poured out their hearts to you.

You can’t deny the joy and escape they’ve given you for the past couple of years you’ve spent as their fan. Maybe entertaining this unreality is the least you can do.

“I mean, well,” you start, clearing your throat. “Choi Beomgyu, you still need to pay for my phone. Choi Soobin, your manager wanted me to talk to you about something, and Choi Yeonjun—”

You look at the guy who still has one arm pressed against your back, two hands in a firm grip on your shoulders. He’s looking at you and batting his eyes expectantly. You let out a sigh and set yourself loose.

“I need to discuss something with you soon, too.” As in, please stop vaguely mentioning me in your live streams because I fear I might find an angry mob in front of my house. “I think I have all your contact information anyway.”

There aren’t any more reactions coming from them. This seems like the best possible solution for all of you. You sigh again. This has been an emotionally draining evening. You can’t wait to get some fucking rest.

“I’ll be in touch with you or your managers soon. For now, let’s call it a day.”

STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

#tomorrow x together x reader #txt x reader #choi yeonjun x reader #choi soobin x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #txt scenarios #tomorrow x together scenarios #txt x you #tomorror x together x you #soobin x reader #yeonjun x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt fanfic #choi soobin x you #choi beomgyu x you #choi yeonjun x you

[velvet-paradox]

Observant

Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: König x Female reader Summary: You're out on the town with your friends but it's your guys' job to make sure you're safe. Length: Medium Warnings: NSFW 18 + ONLY, strong language, explicit content, jealous!König, big guy is a little creep, drinking, established relationship, unprotected p in v, voyeurism, sex in a bathroom, dirty talking, creampie, detailed smut.

Tagging: @synnersaintaint @shyjellyfish26 @kosmokenny @butterscotch-babie @cesneo @deaddainish @allkot @jacket-slut99 @hers-area @1-fuzzy-squirrels @hailmesuckers @ella-bella-ella @spookylilbay @t6ylors @salamanderstuff @hh-spnxx @akii1833 @malyshka-3 @etoilebleue @gremlingottoosilly @talktothemoon2 (I couldn't tag everyone for whatever reason)

p.s. this isn't inspired by The Virus of Life by Slipknot but it fits the mood I'm going for so if you wanna' read this while listening to or listen to it general bc it's a perfect song, go right ahead!

ENJOY!!!

He can't help it. Not really. He told you to go (even helped you zip up that pretty black dress, bending down on his knees as he clasped your heels too), told you to have fun, call if you needed him, text him to pick you up, go through the drive-thru and get your favorite go-to hangover meal. He knew you would be drinking and dancing with your friends. The thought of what other people, men in particular would be looking at once you left the house made him hot. Made him possessive. But, as smooth as glass on silk König looped his hood over your head at the door, kissing you hard before waving you off, giving your ass a firm squeeze.

König saw fucking crimson as soon as the car full of giddy women pulled away from the curb.

He caught the kiss you blew him before he slammed the door shut and stomped through the house, taking the stairs two at a time, he threw off the hood and sat down at his computer. He turned on his work tablet that he just so conveniently take home with him. He knew what he was doing.

He wiped a hand down his face, green eyes glowing from his computer screens. He used them for gaming, for work emails and new weapons he'd long for. You had your own laptop so using his wasn't really on your radar. So as König typed in coordinates and accessed street cameras and the like, he thought how silly of you.

You had no reason to questions his methods, he was yours, his main priority is to keep you safe and happy and healthy. By any means necessary. And much like his job in the military; he took his job very, very seriously.

While his tablet tracked your location that he'd check every so often, he found your girlfriends' car on the highway, a grin on his face.

Gotcha' sweetheart.

His eyes flitted back and forth as he monitored the cameras.

While König was jealous of the looks you'd be getting, breaking necks and hearts with the way you swayed your hips, helping one of your friends out the of the car at the curb. It was a swanky sort of club at least, he thought. Everyone that he saw and silently judged as a potential threat, it made him warm and it also made him rock fucking hard.

Without knowing or giving it much thought at all, you looked up at a random camera at the stoplight.

Fucks sake… if you only knew what he'd do to keep you safe.

….

It was quite concerning to him how easily he was able to hack into the clubs' security system. They certainly needed better IT in this joint, he chuckled darkly as he maneuvered through the camera's, squinting in the dark and flashing lights. It was packed. He had trouble finding you at first, too many dresses, too many pretty women.

He bit his thumb when he found you.

For the most part you danced with your friends at back booth, he watched you down a few shots already, grooving to the beat of unheard music as you sipped on another drink. Even though it was dark and murky in the club, he mused it was most likely a Bee's Knee's. You love those.

König soon took notice of a man in a very expensive looking suit pass by your table, that's three times in the last fifteen minutes and it wasn't for the bathroom as he'd already scoped that out. König leaned forward, creaking his chair to get a better view.

You had your back toward him, laughing with two of your friends who could still stand, the other two were already sitting down nursing a few cold glasses of water.

If you pass by one more fucking time you dummkopf…

That's it. König grabbed his mask, fought with his boots downstairs and almost forgot the keys to the truck. Grumbling to himself that he should've just gone with you, stayed in the background, blended in to the noise.

He parked the truck violently, coming to a screech in the alley. As luck would have it, an employee of the club was busy taking out some trash and clinking empty bottles of booze, propping up the door just enough for the larger man to slip through unannounced. The music was loud in his ears, heart pumping with the steady rhythm of the bass. The lighting in here was on purposely poor, made for better make out corners and hook-ups he'd concludes as he shifted along the back wall.

Eyes scanning, heart pounding, the threat of you not being here made him move quicker. That little creep better stay away from you, if he know what's good for him, König thought as he made his way around the club. He saw your seated friends then, eyes frantic to find you.

Where are you? Where are you?

Just then he caught something shining in the dim lighting, something bright.

König relaxed a bit more when he saw it was you, holding up your left hand, showing off the wedding ring on your finger to fuck-face. With a huff he shifted his weight, towering over everyone around him, as usual, and made a beeline for your frame.

"Where is he then?"

"Trust me; he's just a phone call away."

"Shame… a real pity he let you out of his sight tonight."

"Is that so?"

"She is never out of my sight."

The poor man must've gave you some pretty wide eyes while you instead smiled, popping your hip and looking up at him. The guy turned and by the look on his face, was not at all prepared to see just who put that little ring on your finger. König grinned and tilted his head, crossing his arms he bent over.

"Boo."

The man let out shriek and took his nosy ass and what was left of his drink and melted back into the dancing crowd.

"I had it handled you know?" You said, sipping down the rest of your own drink.

"I saw that," König countered, sauntering forward to close the not so wide gap. From his height of course, he could see your cleavage perfectly and he just couldn't help himself but sigh quietly. "I'll admit it has been awhile since I've intimated someone. Felt good."

"I bet. Do you want to intimidate me?" You asked, batting your lashes ever so cutely.

Now that was certainly an idea he just might have to entertain.

….

Waving 'hi, hello, good to see you, goodbye' all at once to your friends was a blur, hefting you over his broad shoulder, carrying you away towards the restrooms. Lucky for you both, other than the gendered bathrooms there was a Family Room option, which meant private. Just what he wanted.

He set you down on your heels, clicking loudly on the tile floor as you tugged down the hem of your dress. Until he stopped you. He took your purse and strung it up on the hook, whirling on you he grabbed at the silky material, shifting it up your legs, bunching it at your waist. He clicked his tongue at you.

"And just where or where did your little panties go, hmm?"

"I didn't wear any." You coyishly toyed with the bottom of his mask.

"Is that so?"

"Mhmm."

"Now that's just bad girl behavior." König pressed, leaning on his arm above your head, smiling to himself that he could see your breath hitch in your throat, your chest rising and falling much quicker now. "I should do something about that."

"Yes you should."

You moaned when his free hand found a welcome home between your thighs.

"My my, what have we here? A needy little slit, already wet for me." König sighed, gathering more and more of your slick along his fingers before breaching your tight hole. Your lashes fluttered so sweetly. "I shouldn't even be doing this. You're drunk."

You huffed when he began to retract out of your wetness. "No no no I'm not drunk, honey. I swear. I'm just buzzed, I can still--"

"Ah ah. Don't lie to me, pretty girl. I know you had two Bee's Knee's and a few shots so far."

Your face screwed up when you looked at him. "How do you know that?"

König just chuckled and pulled his finger out, leaving you whining and stunned with his answer.

Low and slow König tapped your nose. "Like I told that dummkopf; you are always in my sight."

He didn't give you even a millisecond before he hunched over, dragging his mask down his face, locking eyes as you bit your lip at the bare sight of him.

….

König made you face the bathroom mirror, told you to hold onto the cool porcelain, bend over, stick that cute ass or yours out. The groan that filled the room vibrated off the walls.

He hunched over your back, "I'm gonna' love you now. Hold on fucking tight."

The crown of his cock split you open, little by little your pussy bloomed open and wet for him as you arched, your back cracked as your shoulder blades threatened to touch.

"Fuck!" You hung your head and rocked on your heels as you adjusted, further and further he pushed himself into you.

He licked his lips at the noises coming from your mouth as he started fucking you, humping you as he wound an arm around your middle, gripping your soft dress. His fingers digging into your skin.

After a particularly hard thrust, you snapped your head up, locking eyes with him in the mirror. You keened and gripped the sink like it had the potential to save you from your husbands' onslaught.

"Fuck you pretty pretty thing, you feel even better than you did this morning," König grunted, slamming into you hard, practically jostling you like a rag doll on his cock. He stilled and panted into the back of your head. "You look so fucking good, so fucking filthy like this, my dear. Look at yourself," with that he grabbed a handful of your hair, jerking you up, blinking at your fucked out expression, mouth agape and glistening. "Awww look at that pretty little face."

He felt you clench around him, pleased he wrenched free his cock, spitting on it as you whined and pushed back against him. "Needy are we, dear?"

"Yes. Oh God yes, I'm so desperate. So so desperate for you." Your ring clinked against the sink when you moved, looking at him over your shoulder, mouth open and waiting for a kiss.

You nipped his tongue after he fucked it into your mouth, giving your ear an experimental bite as he moaned and breathed in your ear.

"Fuck you are so fucking pretty, my pretty little wife," König slapped his wet cock against one of your ass cheeks, it sounded so loud and so filthy. So damn good. "Oh you poor thing. You need it so badly don't you? Need your husbands' cock right back in that wet little cunt of yours. Fucking you out, stretching you out, fuck yes."

"Always." You whined and met him thrust for thrust, settling into a steady pace as he placed kiss after kiss to your neck, your shoulder, biting the strap of your dress as he cupped one of your breasts.

"Yeah you do. Look at you, just ready to be used like the little toy that you are, right? Leaving the house without panties... slut behavior, easier access for me in the end though."

König seemed to be talking to himself as you had become just a puddle, his personal fleshlight as he eased his way back into you.

Your cunt greedily sucked him back in, thrust after thrust as he groaned and grunted, half English tangled with his native tongue. He growled the second you pushed back against him, taking him harder, bowing and whining as if you two were in the sanctuary of your bedroom and not in a public bathroom.

A shower was going to be an absolute must.

Suddenly he lifted one of your legs, gathering you close to his chest, changing the angle to a decadent surprise. Both of your eyes locked on the sight of his cock stretching you out in the mirror.

"Oh my God." You whimpered, eyes watery and focused on how huge he looked. Your gummy walls fluttered around him making him sweat.

"I'm afraid there is no God here, mein engel," he clicked his teeth, shaking his head with a sinister grin, licking the shell of your ear he half whispered. "There is only me. Just you and me. Just your king."

You moaned behind your clenched teeth as you came, legs on the verge of giving out, trembling in his hold. König enjoyed the flood of your arousal encapsulating him, throbbing hot.

"Awww my dear, you couldn't hold it any longer. You poor dear thing, just empty and ready for me to fill you back up, hmmm?" König mused, chuckling darkly before pulling out once more, shoving you up against the wall, your hands slapping against the painted brick, turning your head against it.

You bit your lip at the sight of yourselves in the mirror, arching and wiggling your ass towards him. The jangling of his belt when you fucked you again had left you dizzy, you voiced it, screwing your eyes shut. König got a thrill out of that. Telling you what a good little wife you were, how deep you were taking him, how badly he wanted to fuck you all over again once you made it home.

"That's it baby, good fucking girl. Look at that pretty little girl in the mirror getting whatever she wants." He even went a little far as to little slap your face, holding your chin as his thighs slapped against your ass. "Good job. Take it baby, you're gonna' take it. Oh fuck. You want to feel me cum inside you? Yeah you do, yeah you fucking do."

You sobbed as he came, shooting a few healthy ropes of cum into you. He ground himself against you, pushing his semen even deeper into your pliant body. Your breathing was erratic at best, licking the drool from your lips.

König slowly pulled out, a thick glob dribbled out of your hole, dripping down your inner thigh. He had half a mind to scoop it back up and push it back inside your sensitive cunt, those intrusive thoughts to have you completely full of him, drove him wild. He'd beat off to that image later. Instead he told you leave it, pulling your dress back down and turned you around to face him.

You giggled when he kissed you. "I fucking love when you cum inside me. Makes me feel so good, so warm." You rubbed your thighs together and he laughed with you, fixing himself up while you grabbed your purse and checked your make up. Only a little smeared.

"You're a naughty little thing, you know? Walking out of here with cum leaking out of you. What would your friends think, hmmm?"

Your laugh was louder than expected as you touched his shoulder once his hood was on and you'd opened the bathroom door to the steady pulse of the music.

"Trust me my love, you don't want to hear their stories!"

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