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jk97 · 2 months

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Unprofessional Attraction | TWO

♡ pairing - yunho x afab!reader ♡ word count - 18.2K ♡ warnings for this chapter - fluff and explicit content (mdni), teacher/student relationship, other members are featured, halloween, drinking alcohol, perverted!yunho, bigdick!yunho, pet names (angel, pretty, smart girl, etc), pinch of sexting and unintentional phone sex, office head (giving and receiving), fingering, praise, unprotected sex, riding, jealousy, blackmail, good ol' porn with plot ♡ A/N - my goodness thank you for 1000+ notes ♡ sorry it's so long but I appreciate the patience!! the school semester timeline in this is kinda unrealistic but ignore that, fictional romance has no bounds LOL. This might end up 4 parts instead of 3, we'll see what my brain figures out.

Part 1 | Part 2 | ?

“I’m starting to think you’re kidnapping me.”

For the past 30 minutes into this drive, something Yunho had initially assured you wouldn’t take long, you’ve been alternating between staring out of the window at your surroundings slowly becoming unfamiliar and the small bouquet of flowers sitting in your lap. Even as you gaze at him inquisitively, he doesn’t move his attention away from the road. When he doesn't answer for longer than what you deem appropriate, your brows flicker up in amusement. That gets his attention.

“Oh, right, that’s a bad thing,” he clears his throat dramatically, though you know he’s just poking fun at your impatience, “I suppose I could ruin the surprise if you’re getting restless.”

“No, I’m not! I’m just very curious why it’s so far away,” you stop him quickly. That’s absolutely a reasonable question and Yunho decides to give you the answer.

“I know I said I wanted to be discreet but…” he pauses and sighs, shaking his head, “I just can’t. Figured the next best thing would be to just leave our area for the day and do something fun around strangers instead. I just want us to be comfortable, I guess.”

“You really weren’t kidding about being thoughtful, huh?” You hum softly, hand finding his own sitting on the gear shift. He allows you to thread his fingers between yours without hesitation.

“I meant everything I said, yes.”

“I guess I can be patient then,” you feign annoyance, rolling your eyes.

The earnest laugh that your silliness evokes from him fills the car and makes the atmosphere even warmer than before. The gift of flowers had already charmed you upon getting into his car, so you can’t imagine that there’s something even better waiting for you at the end of the drive. As much as you’d love to know what this man had settled on within the last few days, you allow yourself to indulge in the feeling of being whisked away and surprised instead. In the meantime, you busy yourself again by humming to his radio and continuing to survey your surroundings passing by quickly the further you drive.

There are many things Yunho is good at and he’s a very intelligent man, but cooking is just not one of those things. Because of this, he generally eats out instead of bothering with making food. This is particularly one of the reasons why he never had an issue when it came to eating dinner with you outside of his home. He supposes if he wants to be a proper and worthy bachelor, he should learn one of these days not to add too much salt to soup, or how to properly fry an egg without burning it to a crisp. Today’s decision to take you both to a cooking class is motivated by those circumstances. Sushi shouldn’t be that hard to master, right?

It begins easily enough.

Each group has an individual station, and the class starts with a simple seaweed salad as an appetizer. He makes sure to follow all the instructions to a T, his only deviation being adding a dash of red pepper flakes because he likes spice. Yunho’s already so used to you asking for a taste of his food that he immediately goes to share his final product without you even asking.

While you’re still mixing your own he beckons for your attention, holding out a bite with his chopsticks, “Open.”

This is something you’ve done before, yes, but only a few times. It’s a bit more embarrassing though while doing such a thing in front of other people, and he can’t help but notice how you can’t look him directly in the eyes while obliging him. You’re so cute when you’re shy.

“How does it taste?” He asks before you can even get to chewing, but he’s a bit nervous that you might spit it out before he does.

When you do get to chew and swallow, he’s surprised to see your eyes light up, “Wow that’s delicious, Yu!”

Asking him for another bite inflates his ego just a pinch too much, but he can’t help it when you’re praising him for his work. Maybe to hide his inability to cook anything else he’d simply make you seaweed salad for the rest of your life. Yeah, that sounds nice… He tries to suppress the confident smirk tugging at his lips and hypes himself up for the rest of the lesson. After everyone in the room has wrapped up that portion of the lesson, the instructor moves forward with beginning the sushi crafting.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, how did you meet your friends?” You inquire in a low voice while the instructor carries on about how much rice is an appropriate amount, clarifying, “Mr. Park and Mr. Choi.”

“I met both in college, but I met Seonghwa first,” he muses, “I was a sophomore and he was a junior, and we both happened to choose the same music elective that year.”

“What the hell is a linguist doing in a music class? Felt adventurous that year?”

“I’m quite the singer actually,” Yunho reveals with a confident smile, but his arms cease their rice flattening when he hears you try to stifle laughter. His brows crinkle as he peers over at you with a prominent pout tugging at his lips, “What, you don’t believe me?”

“No, I do, it’s just–” You give him a once over. “I’m imagining this angelic voice coming out of you and it’s really cute.”

“Angelic…” he muses, then turns back to flattening his rice and smiles to himself, “I guess I’ll have to show you one day and you can determine that for yourself.”

“I’d love that, actually.”

The instructor announces that next you’ll be slicing up salmon and avocado to put inside your rolls. You and Yunho work diligently on splitting the filet of salmon provided between each other to see who can do it best and follow her lead once more.

“Continue the story,” you whisper to him once the instructor gives the last of her enthusiastic pitches on how to glide the knife through in one stroke for each piece, “What happened after music class?”

“Well, we became friends after pairing up for a duet project… and then we met San the following year after he hired Seonghwa for tutoring in history.” Yunho pauses for a moment to put an immense amount of concentration into his first slice, which still definitely ends up way too thick. “He did things like that on the side for money sometimes. Put up posters in the cafes and everything.”

Even though you’re also concentrating, you nod so he knows you’re paying attention. Unlike Yunho, you seem to have picked up on the cutting technique pretty quickly. His eyes keep flickering back and forth between your work and his, and he huffs in dissatisfaction.

“Sheesh, that was quite some time ago,” you state absentmindedly.

“Excuse me, are you calling me old?”

“Possibly.”

For the nonchalant jab at his confidence, Yunho nudges your cutting arm mid-slice and causes you to abruptly cut the current piece in half. The flabbergasted look on your face and the way your mouth drops open at a loss for words makes him giggle.

“I’m so sorry beautiful, it’s these old brittle bones,” he feigns remorse, lips pulling into a dishonest pout when you glare at him, “Can never keep my balance these days with them, you know?”

“Maybe they’re also the reason your slices look as big as filets,” you quip back, “Might as well throw those on the grill, right?”

Yunho’s pout turns genuine. You only apologize because he looks like a kicked puppy, and you both agree to let you cut the salmon while he works on the avocados instead. It doesn’t take long before you’re finished placing the necessary ingredients onto your rice and following the instructor's words on how to successfully roll it all together. This is something that Yunho is actually able to do decently, and he marvels at the way he’s got a genuine sushi roll in front of his eyes made from his own hands. Moving forward, his mind is consumed with cutting it into perfect bite-sized pieces when you tap his shoulder.

“Hey, do you like soy sauce on your sushi?”

“Sometimes, why?” He replies, and when he turns around to peer down at you he’s met with a pair of chopsticks holding up something for him to try.

You smile in place of instruction, but he opens his mouth without even having to be told to do so. Unlike you, he doesn’t mind holding eye contact while you feed him. It feels intimate even with strangers around you. Dozens of butterflies manifest in your stomach and go into even more of a frenzy when he sighs in contentment. He’ll be nice and pretend he didn’t see the way you swallow the lump in your throat.

That’s when you notice you put just a little too much soy sauce on his piece, and your thumb casually swipes the excess from the corner of his mouth. It’s an action that should be helpful and innocent, but you put your thumb in your mouth to lick it clean without even thinking. He absolutely takes notice. Every time Yunho thinks he’s got the upper hand in wooing you, you make him lose his cool so easily.

“Your face is red. Was it too salty?”

Yunho clears his throat and shakes his head hastily when he sees you’re genuinely concerned. He really wants nothing more than to kiss you at this moment, but that would have to wait until you both are alone. The rest of the class goes by quickly when tasked with making a different sushi roll and some strawberry-matcha ice cream for dessert. Yunho thinks he might see a hint of disappointment on your face when things come to an end and you have to take off your aprons.

“There’s a park not too far away from here if you’re okay with walking for a bit. Burn off some calories?” Yunho proposes when you both finally leave the building, and you nod eagerly. For the second time today, you link fingers and begin your venture.

The walk ends up being a bit longer than you both expect, but it doesn’t take much time to find a secluded spot where you could have some privacy when there. It’s fairly brisk today, so when Yunho removes his jacket to grant you a clean place to sit on the grass, you immediately tell him you don’t mind sitting on the ground at all, that you’d rather him be warm. He assures you that he’s not cold at all (a big fat lie) and doesn’t mind getting a little dirt on his pants, so you give in and situate yourself on his jacket. The silence between you both is comfortable, filled with the sounds of people playing somewhere nearby and birds occupying trees in the branches lingering over you. You debate about striking up more conversation about his past, but he beats you to the punch on speaking.

“I haven’t done this in a while you know,” Yunho suddenly divulges, “Have you?”

“Gone on a date?” When he nods you shake your head, “No, actually. Haven’t met anyone worth going past the texting phase, to be honest... Well, besides that one day.”

You feel a bit guilty when still having to lie about that phony date that led to your first dinner together, but it’s not like it’s something you can change now.

“As bad as it sounds… I’m glad you got stood up that day,” his eyes fall to his lap when he mumbles this. He hopes that doesn’t come across negatively.

The corners of your mouth tug into a smile at his honesty. Maybe one day in the future you’d gain enough courage to tell him it was a lie. You wonder if he would genuinely be upset… Though, you suppose you’re thinking way too far ahead into the future for those kinds of worries.

Instead of dwelling on it, you simply say, “I am too, Yu.”

“You’ve been using that nickname more often,” he points out after a moment of thought, “Any particular reason?”

“It’s just a habit when we get alone… helps me separate you from how I know you on campus,” you reply and glance over at him apprehensively, “I’m sorry, it probably sounds too childish, right? I can stop.”

“No no, I prefer when you call me Yu,” he admits, palm digging into the grass as he leans back on his arm with a sigh, “Everybody else calls me Yunho, Mr. Jeong, whatever.”

“Am I not in the same category as everybody else?”

“Not at all,” he professes without any hesitation, lolling his head to the side to finally peer back at you. The soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth makes your heart stutter.

“Duly noted,” is all you’re able to mumble back. When his eyes go from surveying your face for any unease at his bluntness to zeroing in on your lips, you can’t help the heat manifesting in your cheeks.

“Are you comfortable if I kiss you?”

“I feel like we’re way past that step, no?” You quirk a brow.

“Was more so asking since we’re technically in public, but I suppose that’s also true,” he laughs softly, leaning over and pressing his lips to yours before you can reply to him with any nonsense.

His lips are always so soft and plush, and it’s so juxtaposed with the way he kisses you with intensity and clear intent. He’s never really hesitant of himself when you both kiss, never thinking twice about selfishly stealing your air, despite any anxiety he may have about your situation inside of himself. He’s a bit too enamored with the way your tongue still tastes like strawberry matcha to realize that his free hand has dipped under the hem of your dress, fingertips creeping and leaving a trail of heat as they inch further and further up your thigh. As much as you’d love to indulge him, your nerves won’t let you, no matter how secluded your spot might be.

Your hand wraps around his wrist gently, giggling onto his lips as you warn him, “Don’t get any funny ideas. Like you said, we’re in public.”

“You’re absolutely right,” he sighs reluctantly. He can’t deny that he’s slightly embarrassed for even letting his hands move with a mind of their own. There’s just something about you that makes him feel like he doesn’t have to think so hard when you’re around, and it makes him lose his senses in the process. Everything just feels natural. An affectionate smile plays at his lips while he rubs the material of your dress between his fingers, “It’s getting pretty late, the sun is setting.”

“Let’s head back before the traffic gets too crazy then, yeah?” You propose and he nods silently before pushing one last peck to your lips.

The drive back to your apartment feels much quicker than it did leaving, and this stirs up a hint of despondency in your stomach. It feels like your time with him has ended just as soon as it started, but you suppose you should appreciate the full day you did get to spend with him. Still, you know something like today won’t happen that often, and it makes you a bit sad the closer you get to your building.

Like the gentlemen he is, Yunho walks with you up to the second floor and to your door, hands shoved deep in his pockets while he debates on how to say bye. He doesn’t know if he should kiss you goodbye when anybody could be watching now that you’re back in the area. Then again, he supposes even walking you up to your place was risky to begin with. While he’s debating over these things in his mind, you’ve already opened your front door. He doesn’t even realize you’re staring at him until you call his name, to which he’s subsequently sputtering a bunch of apologies after being caught overthinking.

“Why don’t you come inside for a little bit,” you hum, more as an instruction than a request.

Yunho’s tongue prods at the inside of his cheek in rumination over the various prospects of what exactly coming inside could entail, but the way you’re gazing at him with those beguiling eyes is already luring him in before his thoughts can get the best of him. His feet move on their own, taking tentative steps into your abode with an overwhelming feeling of excitement pooling in his chest. The sound of the front door being locked is followed by you coming up behind him and wrapping your hands around his torso. It’s very sweet, the way you bury your head in his back and squeeze him in an endearing hug.

“I really enjoyed today,” you tell him as best you can with your cheek still squished against his back. You feel the warm chuckle he lets out reverberating through his back. He wishes he could reciprocate your hug, but it seems you’re intent on staying behind him.

He settles for saying, “Thank you for giving me the chance to fix things, ____. I just wanted to show you that you mean a lot to me.”

Then, there’s a beat of silence, and he wonders if everything is okay. Maybe that was too much…

“What’s your day look like tomorrow?” you suddenly ask softly, and Yunho's eyes fall to watch as your hands drop and ghost around his belt.

His Adam's Apple bobs anxiously before he answers in an equally soft voice, “Sundays I… I usually prepare my slides and lesson plans for the week. Meet with the boys in the evening after I’m done for some drinks…”

Your hands gently undo his belt as he’s talking, humming “ mhm ” every few words to let him know you’re indeed listening.

“Maybe you should leave in the morning then,” you propose, fingers gently popping open the button of his pants. You can feel him take a deep inhale the moment you finally gently tug at his zipper.

“Yeah, maybe I should.”

That night, Yunho learns several things about you.

He gets to learn the ins and outs of your gag reflex. You have a slight affinity with deep-throating your partners, and he falls in love with the view of you even trying to with tears in the corners of your eyes. The way your lips stretch around his thick cock… It’s an image he stores in his mental album of you for later use.

He gets to learn about the tattoo you have hidden on your back as he’s fervently driving that same thick cock of his into you from behind. He traces it delicately with his fingers before reaching forward to grab at your hair, pulling it back for some well-needed leverage while his sweaty thighs smack against yours over and over.

He especially loves learning that you like being talked through things, and he’s already made you cum twice by utilizing his voice. Rinse and repeat, the way your greedy cunt squeezes and milks him for all he’s worth when says, “Remind me, what’s my name?” And when you moan out that nickname that he likes so much, he replies with, “That’s my smart girl. Looking so pretty, you feel so fucking good around me. You gonna cum for me again, pretty? I can feel you squeezing, go ahead and give it to me.”

Needless to say, it was a very long and educational night.

In the morning, Yunho’s desires get the best of him, and he manages to inconspicuously steal a pair of panties from the laundry pile in your room, shoving them into his pants pocket while you’re in the bathroom. He makes sure to take a plain-looking pair, something he’s sure you won’t notice is missing. There’s a slight feeling of guilt once he’s nearly home, though.

It’s okay, it’s just a one-time thing, he tells himself over and over, I’ll return them the next time I’m over.

—

“YOU WHAT?”

Yeosang slaps his hand over his mouth but, to be fair, his reaction is entirely involuntary. He had promised you he would remain calm, but how could he with this kind of information? You repeatedly sputter that, while you may be in the back of the library, he is very much going to cause a disturbance if he doesn’t shut his fucking mouth.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he exhales, leaning in with eyes as big as saucers, “You came in too hot, I need the foreplay first.”

“Don’t phrase it like that, good Lord,” you groan.

“What else am I supposed to say when you tell me you’ve fucked him and none of the lead-up? Fuck, did he even take you out to dinner first?”

“Of course he did,” you defend him quickly, “We’ve spent a lot of time together actually. Mostly dinners and things of that nature.”

“I’m mostly shocked that it took you this long to fuck him. Seems like you hooked him fairly easily.”

“Well…” you cover your face just enough to where an eye can peep out between your fingers, and Yeosang eyes you curiously, “No, that wasn’t the first time…”

“Obviously you hate me, ____,” your best friend immediately states, clasping his hands together, “This is the only suitable explanation of why you wouldn’t tell me this until now. I literally begged you for info like an idiot weeks ago!”

“I’m sorry! It was just—”

“Nah, denied,” he holds a hand up to shush you, “Worst best friend ever.”

“Yeo, I explicitly told you progress was being made. Did I not?”

“You failed to tell me that it was being made between your legs,” he snaps in a whisper-yell. “How many times?”

“Only twice, okay? You haven’t missed much, I promise.”

Yeosang sits in silence with his head perched on his palm, seemingly marinating in all of the information he’s been slammed within the last 10 minutes. There are very few times you’ve seen him at a loss for words, but this moment surely makes the list.

“I didn’t think he would cave that easily, honestly.” He finally speaks. You release all the pent-up air in your chest that you hadn’t realized you were holding in waiting for his words. “What did you do to him ____?”

He pleads for the final time for you to start from the beginning and explain, and you finally grant that to him without getting too into the nitty gritty. You’re a bit bashful recounting some of the lengths you took in setting this all up, but Yeosang simply nods in understanding at each one. If anyone was going to be supportive, it was always going to be your frontline cheerleader.

After taking in the full story, he thinks it’s only proper to ask, “What’s your plan beyond this point?”

“Well, exactly what I said to you a long time ago,” you tell him frankly, “If all goes well, I want to be in a relationship with him after I graduate. I don’t see him saying no to that with the way he’s already treating me...”

Yeosang notices the way your demeanor has changed with this answer. Previously, the humorous lilt in your voice was much more prominent. Those same sentiments and that joking attitude seems to be long gone. He can see it in your eyes, the way you’re taking this more seriously. He wonders what Yunho could’ve possibly done to turn you into such a romantic over him. The answer to that would simply be: everything.

“You know, I wasn’t one hundred percent sure if you were telling the truth about wanting things beyond sex at first,” Yeosang tells you honestly. He may be a goofball, but he’s able to be serious when needed. And despite the foolishness leading up to this statement, his voice is earnest when he says, “I can see this working out for you as long as you’re careful.”

“I hope so, Yeo. I really do.”

—

On the following Wednesday, you and Yeosang are both seated in Yunho’s class wasting time on your phones as class is set to start. Usually, Yunho is very punctual with starting because his lectures are so long, so you’re curious as to what the hold-up is today. You peek over your laptop and spot him talking to a guy you’ve never seen before and, as far as you know, you’ve never recognized him in this class. They nod at each other before you see Yunho clear his throat.

“Everyone, I want to take a few minutes at the top of the hour to introduce someone important,” Yunho begins, loud enough that everyone can hear and cease chatter. “I’m sure some of you recognize him from other classes. For those who don't, however, this is Wooyoung Jung. He’ll be serving as my teacher’s assistant for the remainder of the semester.”

“I’m happy to be able to help any way I can,” Wooyoung proclaims to everyone with a sweet smile before turning back towards Yunho, “And thank you Mr. Jeong for allowing me the opportunity.”

You wonder if this is something Yunho truly chose or whether it was sprung upon him; it’s fairly late into the semester for something like this to be introduced. He does have quite the workload though, you muse. Surely with new hands to help, he’ll manage his time a bit better. You wonder if that’ll mean you get to spend more time with him while Wooyoung is taking care of things that would usually dig into his free time. As if Yunho knows you’re thinking about him, his eyes find yours while Wooyoung is taking his seat at the front of the class. Something about the ambiguous gaze he gives you when others are around makes you itch for his attention even more than normal. He doesn’t ever fail at making it look natural, like he could be looking at anyone for nothing in particular. Those little moments keep things fun.

The answer to your previous queries would end up being that, yes, this was something Yunho chose himself. When presented with an opportunity for a student specializing in his major to offer assistance after being accepted into the Work-Study program later than most, of course he said yes. San had been telling him since he began working at the university last semester that he should take on a TA while he got acclimated to teaching, but Yunho had convinced himself that he could do it all on his own. While Yunho had been pretty open about how terrible his workload was, considering he has 3 class sections, he was never completely honest with you about how much stress this caused him on a day-to-day basis.

He was excited that this would free up some of his previously stolen time and take some pressure off of his shoulders. He was also looking forward to being able to spend some of that newly open time with you, especially. That’s why when you unknowingly throw a wrench into those intentions before leaving his class Friday, he has a hard time keeping the dejection he feels from showing on his face.

“It might be a while before we’re able to hang out again,” you sigh, “Midterms are stressing me out but I don’t want to psych myself out right before I graduate—”

“____,” Yunho places his hand on your head tenderly, silencing your rambling in the kindest way he can. He doesn’t like seeing you so stressed out. “Focus on yourself and do your best, okay? Don’t lose sight of the finish line. Being prepared and passing is much more important than us seeing each other.”

You gaze up at him with some of the prettiest dispirited eyes he’s ever seen. How is he supposed to remain selfless when you look like this? Of course, he’d love to be selfish and fill your time; he knows you’re a smart girl so you’d have nothing to worry about for his midterm at least. He’d take care of it. Nevertheless, you’re still a student of others as well, and he has to extinguish that greed as fast as it ignites.

“Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course, pretty. You know where to find me whenever you’re ready,” he smiles and gives your cheek a teasing pinch before opening the lecture hall’s door, “See you next Wednesday.”

As expected, two weeks of studying and taking tests consume your entire schedule. Yunho is not much better, and he’s consistently cursing at himself for making the test he gave out to all of his sections so long. Even though he wants to truly know if his students understand all the material thus far, he forgets how time-consuming making the test so extensive can be for him as well. Having Wooyoung around helps quite a bit, even though he feels slightly guilty for putting such a large amount on him when he becomes overwhelmed. Wooyoung never complains though, so Yunho is grateful to have gotten a TA who actually does the work and does it well. During this time, you both try to keep regular contact, offering words of encouragement to each other and discussing what you should do to celebrate when you get your passing grades back.

Directly following the end of midterms week is the weekend before Halloween. Jongho had sent out a text the week prior that he was holding a party at his parent’s rental house, which is currently unoccupied for the season. The man had friends from several different circles because he was involved in many different extracurriculars outside of his studies, so you were certain this party was going to be fairly large.

Naturally, as best friends do, you and Yeosang decide to wear matching costumes for his party. Procrastination had gotten the best of you both with midterms added into the mix, however, and the best thing the two of you were able to come up with before the weekend was a sexy nurse and doctor duo. Simple, but effective.

You both rode along with Hongjoong, who had chosen to be the designated driver for the evening. It’s uncomfortably brisk outside, too brisk to be dressed like you are; however, upon opening the door, you can barely get two steps into the property before Jongho stops everyone in their tracks. His hands hold out exactly what you knew would be coming before even arriving at the house. It’s Jongho’s signature thing.

“You know the rules,” he says with that mischievous smile of his you know too well.

You must take one tequila shot to be admitted past the door.

All three of you quickly take the shot glasses from your host and toss them back without even giving cheers. The burn of alcohol and the robust taste of bitter poison stains your tongue. It hurts a little on the throat on the way down and you salivate to adjust to the pain, immediately making a face of disgust.

“God, it never gets easier,” you cough.

“I’ll grab you something easier,” he laughs while rubbing your back, “Same flavor as usual?”

“Please and thank you.”

As promised, he comes back with two bottles of honeydew melon soju in tow and some fresh shot glasses. It doesn’t take too many heavy-handed shots before laughs and giggles begin to bubble up in your throat for no real reason. You forgot that you didn’t put anything on your stomach before leaving the house, and it’s becoming very apparent every time you feel your head shoot up to outer space and come back down just as quickly. That’s a non-issue though because Jongho’s catered this party with enough food to feed a small village. Anyone watching you stuffing your face with Halloween-themed carbs and sweets is the last thing on your mind. Round two of shots is followed by the intense feeling of needing to dance. Even while intoxicated, you’re perceptive enough to notice various sets of eyes on you whilst dancing with your friends. Every so often, an owner of a set will make his way over and try to chat you up. Like clockwork, you say the same thing to every new person:

Sorry, I’m not single.

You say this sentence so many times in the span of an hour that it begins to feel real. Then again, isn’t it already? As far as you’re concerned, you were spoken for until Yunho said otherwise. You wonder if he feels the same about himself... When you start having a small internal existential crisis about whether Yunho thinks the same, that’s when you know you’re approaching your limit for the night. You step away to grab some water and begin the process of flushing your body. When you make it back to your circle, things have changed. Mingi, with his girlfriend in tow, lets everyone know that they’re going to find a private room before taking off up the stairs of the house. You know it’s irrational and probably motivated by the alcohol in your system, but you can't help but feel jealous that they can do something like that so easily. If you could see Yunho and drag him to a room anytime you were horny, you’re sure a lot of your life’s problems would be solved.

The moment they’re gone, Hongjoong leans in and quickly lets you know he’s also going upstairs to join some other acquaintances in karaoke. You’re just about to panic until Yeosang tugs on your arm to beckon for your attention.

“Going to the bathroom if you want to join,” he leans in and proposes, “I really need to pee.”

Everyone seems to have wanted to go their separate ways, but he’d never leave you alone all by your lonesome. And especially not with alcohol in your system. You grab onto his hand with a nod and let him lead you through hoards of people to the closest bathroom. Luckily, it’s empty and there’s no wait. It’s not long before you’re both locked away from the sound of music thumping from behind the door. While you search through your pockets for your lipgloss for reapplication, Yeosang jets for the toilet.

“I’m drained,” you mutter, “Being bombarded by strangers.”

“You showed up to the party looking like that and expected not to catch some eyes?”

He’s right, honestly. The red and white romper you’re wearing leaves nothing much to the imagination with the way your asscheeks are hanging out of the bottom or the way your breasts are squished together at the top. Your makeup and hair, your stockings and heels, everything just exudes pure sex appeal. All topped off with a little hat and a play syringe you’ve been using occasionally for “alcohol shots”. To be fair, your friend group mainly consisted of men, and many men found it intimidating to approach you with them always surrounding you in settings such as this. People must be feeling especially bold tonight with as much alcohol being drunk, you muse. He giggles to himself because he knows that typically you’d entertain some of the suitors for fun, but you seem devoted to the one man on your mind these days.

“Bet you didn’t send your boyfriend a picture of your costume though, huh?” Yeosang teases, slurred words morphing into a laugh as he finally pulls down his pants. The subsequent sound of him peeing draws a laugh from you.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you scoff and nudge him in the back. He nearly loses his footing.

“Stop, you're gonna make pee go everywhere!” How he is even still peeing with such ferocity is beyond you. This doesn’t stop him from adding in quickly, “I dare you to show him. It’s only fair, right?”

Alcohol-induced pride is something dangerous, but you’re never one to back down from a dare, even when sober. While he’s finishing up, you find your text thread with Yunho and send him the image you and Yeosang had taken together at the beginning of the party.

[Y/N: 1 image]

[Y/N: Matchingg with my besssttieee]

Coincidentally, Yunho is home and lonesomely watching YouTube videos when his phone pings. Oh wow…

He replies with several texts in a minute—one making sure to compliment you both, but the rest shamelessly thirsting over the way your costume is so lewd. Many other men may have made passes at you and offered plenty of flattery throughout the night, but none of them could make you get flustered as much as Yunho. This is the only man you care about hearing compliments from, the only man whose words matter. Maybe it’s that last bottle of soju making you so confident, but your hands move faster than your brain.

“Don’t turn around just yet,” you tell Yeosang quickly before pulling up your camera. You unzip your romper enough to pull one of your breasts out fully, squeezing it teasingly with one hand while the other takes a quick selfie. It’s a tad blurry, but it’ll do its job. After fixing yourself just as quickly, you give Yeosang the okay so he can wash his hands.

[Y/N: 1 invisible ink image]

[Y/N: Would you let me stick you???]

When he gets this notification, Yunho stares down at his throbbing cock already in his hand and laughs. He was already turned on enough by the other picture to pull it out from his sweatpants, but this? He’s usually not one to send nudes, but good God, he wants nothing more than for you to see exactly what you’re doing to him right now. Against his better judgment, he does just that.

[Yunho: 1 invisible ink image]

[Yunho: only if you let me reciprocate after]

When you uncover the picture, your breath catches in your throat: his hand is firmly wrapped around his aching, flushed cock. It looks as though he’s already been stroking himself eagerly, the way it’s glossy with lubricant and an angry shade of red. God, the things you would do to have him pick you up from this party and let you fuck him to your heart's content… Even though that could never happen, a girl can dream, so you decide you have to tell him exactly what’s on your mind. Yeosang’s too drunk to do his job of taking away your phone while you’re so many drinks deep.

“Ready to go back?” Your best friend asks while drying his hands.

Holding your phone tight against your chest for privacy, you sputter, “Do you mind giving me a few minutes alone? I won’t be too long, promise.”

Yunho’s shocked when he sees your name come up on his phone for a call. He was beginning to get slightly nervous when you failed to respond to his attempt at sexting, but that didn’t stop him from staring at your photos and feverishly stroking his cock in the meantime.

“Hello?”

“Hello there, handsome,” you giggle, and Yunho immediately hears the intoxicated tremor laced in your words.

“Having a fun night?” He asks with a laugh of his own, trying to refrain from breathing too heavily into the phone every time he squeezes his leaking tip with a little extra pressure.

You’re too drunk to realize what he’s doing anyway, and you unknowingly feed into his journey toward an orgasm when you outright say, “Yes but… I want you so bad right now, Yu.”

Yunho’s breath nearly catches in his throat, and his face flushes bashfully as his hand glides faster up and down his cock.

His voice trembles a bit when he replies, “I wish I could make that happen for you, angel.”

“Well… you wanna know what I’d do if I was there?” You push further, closing your eyes and tuning out everything outside the door to focus on Yunho alone. He agrees promptly, head kicking back as he closes his eyes in the same way, tuning in solely to your voice. “Been wanting to ride you so bad lately. Keep imagining the way you’d sound when I bounce up and down in your lap… You make the prettiest noises, Yu, I swear.”

He physically swallows any of those aforementioned pretty noises trying to manifest in his throat, burying them deep in his chest before he responds with the only thing his brain can manifest.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, but…” You lower your voice to a whisper, “Do you think I could make you cum all by myself, like no help?”

Yunho is so close, he can barely hold himself together.

“I bet you could. Just seeing you feel good while using my dick would be enough to, honestly.”

The tiny drunken giggle that tumbles from your lips goes straight to his heart, “I say we test that out then.”

“Just let me know when you want to and I’ll be more than ready,” he assures you, accidentally punctuating that sentence with a soft, “ Fuck .”

“____, Jongho’s looking for us,” Yeosang calls out through the door. “They’re about to play a drinking game or something.”

For some reason, the knowledge that you’re talking so filthy like this while anyone on the other side of the door could perhaps hear you pushes him over the edge. With his phone on his chest, Yunho presses a tight hand over his mouth to suppress any noise threatening to come out, instead heavily breathing through his nostrils as spurts of cum sully his abdomen.

You sigh, “My liver is being summoned, gotta go. Bye-bye, handsome.”

The call ends before Yunho can even open his mouth to reply, but that’s fine because he’s sure he wouldn’t have been able to come up with a coherent sentence anyway. He settles for dazedly texting you to let him know when you get home safely. The long and uncomfortably hot shower he takes to wash away the filth from his mind and his body leaves him feeling oddly refreshed. It might be because he hasn’t had a conversation with you not relating to the stresses of the previous weeks up until today. It’s silly that something so depraved ended up being the product, but God, does it feel fresh and exhilarating.

Now that midterm season was over and a good amount of grading had been taken off of his hands by taking on a TA, Yunho found himself with enough time on his hands to give his place a good cleaning. If he’s being completely honest with himself, he’s doing this to give himself more confidence in inviting you over again. It had been some time since he last had you there, but that was partially due to the treacherous state that it was in currently. You had been free from midterms for a week now, there were no excuses as to why he couldn’t spend private time with you in his place. The perfect opportunity arose directly after he accomplished his goal, when you mentioned in passing that you were one assignment away from being able to go out.

“How about you come do your work at my place instead?” he had offered, “I’ll order us dinner and we can relax together afterward.”

It didn’t take much convincing for you to end up on his doorstep half an hour later with your backpack slung over your shoulder. You’re so beautiful when you’re done up, there’s no denying that, but there’s something about you when you’re dressed so comfortably casual that makes Yunho get heart palpitations. When you look like that while lounging at his kitchen table, hands typing away at God knows what assignment, it just feels so domestic to him. You look like you belong there. He tries not to stare too much and gives you your space to work though, busying himself with some random medical show he pays no real mind to on Netflix while lying on his couch. Quite some time later, he hears you let out a hefty aggravated sigh.

“Words are starting to blend together,” you murmur while rubbing your eyes. “Hate when this happens.”

“Take a break then, beautiful. Come sit with me?”

It started off innocent, it really did.

Sitting curled up under Yunho’s arm in his lap has now entered the top ranks on your list of favorite positions to be in. It’s soothing, the way his fingers play with the frayed strings of your pants in between rubbing calming circles into your tense muscles. If you weren’t careful, you’re sure this man could lull you to sleep.

“I didn’t know you liked doctor shows,” you mumble against his chest.

“I don’t,” he laughs, “I figured the girl who dressed up as a sexy nurse over the weekend would be interested.”

“Oh hush, you know Halloween is for foolishness.”

But, upon entering a conversation about Halloween, it leads to a conversation about your photo exchange. Yunho has been meaning to ask if he’s allowed to save that image for obvious reasons. Aside from it being sent while you were intoxicated, he also wants to be respectful about deleting it if need be. You reassure him that it’s okay for him to keep and use it whenever he likes, as you do not doubt in your mind he’d never let something like that slip from between you both. That’s when the phone call also comes up.

“Are you usually that horny when you’re intoxicated?” Yunho inquires, “Calling me up and talking like that was surprising.”

You sit up immediately, “I called you? You’re lying…”

“You don’t remember?” His brows hitch in surprise.

“No, I don’t recall that at all,” you gaze back at him, dumbfounded, “What did I say?”

“Nothing much,” he lies, but he knows you’d never take that as an answer. Especially not when his cheeks are dusted in pink at you even asking.

“Please, tell me!” You nearly plead, “Oh God, was it embarrassing?”

“You really want to know that badly?”

The innocent nod you give him makes him give in. He remains focused on the TV to prevent himself from becoming too sheepish by looking into your eyes while recounting such words. Yunho is a bit more conservative with his words as he recalls your remarks about riding him. He’s unable to go into as much detail as you did of course, he doesn’t want to work himself up just thinking about it; moreover, he can’t even say some parts without fleeting thoughts of how he already jacked off simply to your voice telling him such things. It’s embarrassing to him how he lacks willpower when it comes to you, he’s a grown man for Christ’s sake. To be fair, you’re not much help. He doesn’t even notice how you’re toying with his sweatpants’ strings while he talks. When he finally tears his eyes from the TV and meets yours, the gaze you share has you finally moving from your spot.

Who knew Yunho’s living room couch was so comfortable on the knees? Surely not you, until yours are digging into it while you straddle his waist. It’s hard to focus on the way his lips are devouring your neck while his hands are simultaneously frisking every inch of your body he can reach. You don’t know at what point during the last minute you ended up with your joggers thrown a few feet away on the floor, or when he ended up with his sweatpants and underwear pooled around his feet. He can’t focus on anything else but the feeling of your bare cunt sliding back and forth over his cock, watching you teasingly smear your slick all over him with his mouth hung open. He can only take but so much of watching you work him up before he finally peers up into your eyes.

“God, you’re way too good at being a tease,” he sighs as he leans up to ghost his lips over yours. You can feel his little gasps every time you apply a little more of your weight on top of his painfully hard cock. He’s a patient man though, so he doesn’t mind letting you toy with him for however long your heart desires, “I’m not in a rush.”

“Maybe I’m just waiting for you to remind me how to fit it in me,” you joke, gasping as his hands busy themselves by massaging your sensitive breasts under your sports bra, “It's been a while since the last time, you know?”

The raspy laugh he lets out hits you right in your core, and even more so when he says, “You’re a very smart and capable girl, I know you can do it all by yourself.”

The way he enunciates the last three words makes your core throb. When you finally lift your hips to wrap your hands around his length, his hands move from your breasts to your waist for support. You give him a few gentle pumps before lining him up with your sopping entrance.

“There you go,” he encourages when you push yourself open on his tip with a needy moan.

You slide down his shaft gradually, inch by inch until you’re fully seated. The deep, shaky exhale you let out against Yunho’s neck makes him chuckle because you’re such a trooper even without any prep beforehand.

“Give me a second.”

“Want some help?” He asks genuinely, massaging the plush of your thighs and chuckling when he feels you clench at the offer.

He’d lay you down and take care of things himself if you wanted him to, as he’s never one to deny a pillow princess being the service dom he typically is. To his surprise, you begin moving your hips, lifting and sliding back down at a casual pace. His head kicks back and he sighs at the feeling of your warm walls swallowing him in and pushing him out, over and over. You can’t keep in the sounds of pure need and arousal that spill from your lips every time you feel his cock curve up and prod against that spot that makes your stomach do flips. When the sting from the initial stretch subsides, every glide feels breathtaking. You keep your head buried in his neck to focus on your hip movements instead, gasping and moaning in time with every sound of your ass striking his thighs.

You were right, he thinks, it had been quite some time since you both slept together that night of your first real date. Yunho’s been dreaming about that pretty cunt of yours since then—nearly daily—unable to match the feeling of the way you squeeze him with his hand, especially during the nights he works himself up enough to where he needs release. He didn’t want to seem too brazen or shamefully horny by reaching out and asking if he could show you more of what he could accomplish with that cock of his buried inside you, the sounds he wants to try and evoke. Nevertheless, he doesn’t want you to think that’s something that matters the most to him.

Admittedly, the general nerves regarding your extracurricular activities with each other had subsided after the Halloween stint. Yunho gained a lot of confidence after that night. He previously felt guilty during midterm weeks because, even after he had expressly told you to focus on yourself, he was also so sure that there was plenty of midterm stress he could’ve helped you relieve, and vice versa. In many, many ways. Regardless, he decided to let sex with you occur naturally instead, such as last time. It was worth the wait though, if the way his teeth are sinking so deep into his bottom lip to stop himself from whimpering at this pleasure is anything to go by.

“Fuck, mhm, just like that baby,” he hisses when you arch your back and begin rolling your hips against him, “Really gonna make me cum all by yourself, huh? Knew you were ambitious, angel.”

You feel yourself nearly gush with every word. This can’t be the same man who stands in front of you twice a week and talks about semantics, right? On the opposite end, how is he supposed to maintain any composure when the sounds of your sopping wet cunt sucking him in so easily are now battling the TV? Your arousal is so loud and it’s driving him crazy. He tends to firmly pinch at the meat of your bouncing ass and chuckle every time it elicits a helpless yelp from your throat, only to keep his antsy hands busy. Still, he makes an effort to let you do things by yourself, as you expressed.

“Yu?” you whimper into his skin a moment later, and he grunts to let you know he’s listening even if his mind is foggy with lust, “I wanna kiss you.”

Yunho’s heart nearly bursts out of his chest, cheeks flushing at how innocent the request is. His hand tenderly grabs you by the chin and leads your mouth to his while murmuring, “Stop hiding then, sweetheart.”

Time and time again, you’re reminded about how good of a kisser he is. There’s something addicting about the way he loves intertwining tongues and doesn’t care about being messy that turns you on to the highest degree. You can feel heat prickle over every inch of your skin when he pulls back your bottom lip with his teeth. When you begin to bounce faster and grow more eager to cum, Yunho’s hands finally grab underneath either cheek of your ass and begin to help you, hips rutting up in time with every quick hop of you on his cock. It doesn’t take long before his breathing becomes ragged, his own orgasm nearing, and you both break the kiss to gasp for air. Your hands grip onto his biceps when you feel your legs starting to give out from fatigue.

“I’m sorry I–”

“You can relax, sweetheart,” he pants, “Just a little more, I’ve got you.”

Yunho wraps his arms around your back, holding you steady and spreading his legs a bit farther apart before taking over and pistoning his hips into yours. The frenzied babbles of his name in his ear make his eyes roll to the ceiling. Your orgasm blindsides you entirely, hitting you right after a particularly sinful thrust directly into your G-spot. There's no time to indulge in the way you’re making some of the most euphoric sounds he’s ever heard himself pull from a woman because the feeling of your walls contracting and convulsing around his cock gives him the final push to finish himself. Right before he lets go, he lifts you off of his cock with strong arms and cum paints his t-shirt a few seconds later.

“I say we go take a shower…” Yunho begins tentatively, reworking his thoughts after you both are breathing calmly again, “And then, we can order some food because I’m honestly starving. What do you say?”

“And where does finishing my assignment come in, hm?” You pinch his cheek.

“Ugh, you’re right…” he groans, “I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time before the food is delivered, right?”

“I’m not even looking at that food until my work is done, and I mean i—” Your voice clips off when he suddenly stands to his feet with you maintained in his arms.

“That shower isn’t going to run itself then,” he counters, lips tugging into a large smile as he happily strides towards his bedroom with you in tow.

Yunho had informed you beforehand that this next week was going to be a busy one for him, induced by training workshops the university decided to spring upon a few colleges. The Dean of his particular college thought that it was a good idea to shove all necessary sessions into the first week of November. He apologizes multiple times every time he thinks about it. You know he shouldn’t have to ever explain his business to you—he’s doing his job as a teacher, which comes first and foremost—but it’s nice that he considers you when his schedule is in conversation. You tell him time and time again that he shouldn’t concern himself with what you may or may not feel about his unavailability. He was nothing but patient with you during midterms, and you were more than happy to reciprocate that now that the time has come.

The first day you have class with him that week, you choose to stick back while everyone else is bustling to get out of the door. It doesn’t take longer than a couple of minutes for the room to completely empty, save for you and your teacher. Normally, his eyes would light up noticing such a thing, but today he seems to be drowning in fatigue with the way his face doesn’t even budge. That doesn’t stop you from heading to his podium with tentative steps while he pulls on his blazer and packs up to continue his schedule.

“Got a minute?”

“For you? Always,” he hums without even looking up. He’s in the middle of shoving the last of his things in his briefcase when you hold up a tied-up plastic bag that catches his attention.

“I know you have a loaded day, so I brought you lunch,” you break the news before he can question it. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but you’re sure it’ll be enjoyable to eat regardless. “Just wanted to save you from having to make an extra stop across campus.”

“You’re amazing, ____,” Yunho utters in a soft voice before taking the bag from you carefully. He’s having a hard time mustering up any kind of physical joy today so he hopes that, for now, his words can at least convey what he’s failing to provide otherwise, “I know it doesn’t look like it but I really do appreciate this. Thank you.”

“You seem tense today,” you point out while moving to join him on his side of the podium. “Did something happen?”

The lecture hall’s doors don’t have any slit windows for prying eyes, so you reach up and rub a comforting hand over the back of his neck. He closes his eyes and sighs. If there’s anyone’s touch that could cure his problems, he’s sure it’s yours. Still, he doesn’t want to make himself too comfortable with the location you’re in.

“You wouldn’t believe how many things are going wrong today. I also have to meet with the head of my department for a performance evaluation based on the midterm grades. Everyone generally did very well but,” Yunho massages the bridge of his nose to help collect his thoughts before continuing, “It’s only my second semester, so the impression I’m making with these kinds of things is very important. I know I have nothing to be worried about but it’s hard not to be anxious.”

“Making yourself sick with stress isn’t going to help either,” you remind him.

“I know, I know. I’m just ready for this week to be over.”

“Maybe we should go out of town again this weekend,” you muse, hand moving to squeeze his shoulder affectionately, “I saw online some fall festivals are happening that might be fun to check out. I remember you saying you’ve never been to one.”

He peers down at you, lips splitting into his first genuine grin of the day, “She takes notes in and out of the classroom, how cute.”

“Only when it comes to you. What do you say?”

There’s a knock on the doors, but before Yunho can muster any words to answer it, the owner comes in anyway. Upon entering in a huff, Wooyoung stops dead in his tracks. His eyes flicker between the two of you before he hitches a brow. You offer him a mild-mannered smile and pull your hand away from Yunho’s shoulder slowly so as not to seem suspicious.

“Good afternoon Wooyoung,” Yunho says so naturally, though you’re groaning in your head, “Did you need something from me?”

You know it’s ridiculous of you, but you’re starting to envy Yunho’s TA. Recently, you’ve come to realize that you hate how Wooyoung gets an immense amount of time interacting with Yunho daily, but it’s still never enough. There’s always something more he needs. You get it, he’s technically an employee to make your teacher’s life easier. That’s something you should be cheering on, right? Deep down, in the most selfish part of your mind, you’re just tired of people always interrupting and interfering in the minimal amount of time you have with Yunho on campus, even unknowingly.

“I remembered I had some questions about your grading criteria for the recent essay that I needed some clarification on before leaving,” he says, and you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker at you briefly, “But if you’re busy…”

“He’s not. We just finished chatting about what’s due next class,” you answer for Yunho instead, much to his dismay. He notices the tone change in your voice, but as much as he’d like to resolve that, he can only watch you grab your bag. He’s slow to catch himself frowning before fixing his face in front of his TA. While slipping past the younger gentleman to finally leave, you make sure to call out, “See you Friday, Mr. Jeong.”

It takes everything in you to not give Wooyoung the finger to the back of his head, but you decide it’s best not to let such things aggravate you. Again, Yunho is a teacher and this is part of his job. You shouldn’t be so angry at his assistant for doing what he needs to do to make his life easier.

You and your linguist do end up leaving the area again that weekend to attend a festival together. This particular town is covered in thick colorful trees that have yet to lose their leaves. Along with the overwhelming smells over different smells of various food carts and so many people laughing in enjoyment, the entire scene does a number on Yunho’s brain. It scratches a deep itch he didn’t realize he had. Playing little games with you for prizes makes him realize he hasn’t had this kind of fun in quite a long time.

Yunho’s shocked with himself when he asks if you both can take a selfie together in front of all the colorful leaves before leaving for the day. He’s been thinking about something like this for quite some time, a bit dispirited by not being able to savor memories in pictures like everyone else can. Realistically, he knows he really shouldn’t be offering such blatant evidence of your romance to be left on either of your phones. Texts can easily be manipulated and argued, but selfies with you both in them don’t lie. These kinds of thoughts still nag at him in the back of his head even while he puts on this goofy grin, chin affectionately sitting atop your shoulder as he snaps his first photo with you ever. He wishes he could put something like this as his wallpaper. Even if he could, in a world where peeping eyes weren’t an issue, he wonders if that would be too much. Do you like the people you’re involved with to be that mushy?

He doesn’t have the luxury of overthinking about these things for too long before you’re pinching his cheek to bring him back to reality. Reluctantly, Yunho decides to let his brain rest and focus on the rest of the time he has left with you. He’s unable to stay the night or do anything intimate that evening because of prior obligations taking up the rest of his night, but that doesn’t stop him from boldly leaning over his center console and surprising you with a slow, romantic kiss while parked right in front of your complex. He knows he should care, but he can’t find it in himself to be bothered with the risks when he just wants to show you that he appreciates you helping him relax today before he has to depart. You hear him loud and clear.

The following week, Seonghwa finds himself seeking out Yunho’s office after packing up for the day. Yunho’s thumbing at his phone’s keyboard when the courtesy knocks come and nearly scare him, but grants permission to enter.

“I thought you’d be gone by now,” Seonghwa marvels when he finds his friend still perched in his office chair. “Your classes are usually over early on Thursdays, no?”

“I had to rework my syllabus and switch modules around because of some issues getting through lectures last week. Completely slipped my mind that I still needed to revise my lesson plans and slides for tomorrow until this morning,” Yunho sighs, “If I go home it’s definitely not getting done, so I have to stay.”

His friend surveys the ways his cheeks are slightly flushed as he glances back down at his phone briefly and tries to type something quickly. Sure, it could be from frustration or exhaustion caused by his tasks for the evening, but something seems different in the way he’s fidgeting in his chair.

“Who’s the lucky lady?” Seonghwa inquires out of the blue, causing Yunho to lift his eyes from his phone abruptly. He offers a knowing smirk when Yunho’s brows furrowed in confusion, “You’re smiling a lot more these days— kinda glowing. Seems like you finally made it out of the dry spell and got laid.”

Yunho subconsciously tucks his phone in his lap, unconsciously confirming Seonghwa’s suspicions.

“Nobody special,” he replies, finding this white lie to be more suitable than lying outright, “Nothing much I can say.”

“Well, where’d you meet her? You don’t talk to anyone when we go out anymore so it couldn’t have been at the bar.”

Yunho hesitates for a brief moment before saying the first thing that comes to his mind, “Tinder.”

“I thought you deleted that app a while ago,” Seonghwa’s brows crease.

“I redownloaded it a while ago out of boredom,” Yunho explains quickly. He knows he’s not the best liar, but there is quite literally no way he’s going to tell his friend the truth about this situation whatsoever. Now, he almost wishes he had just fully lied at the start.

“And you can’t tell me more about a Tinder match?”

“I just–”

“I’d understand if I was San, but someone you can’t even tell me about?” Seonghwa jokes, but Yunho can tell this question is not entirely unserious.

He understands where his friend is coming from. Their relationship runs a bit deeper than Yunho’s with the third addition to their friendship, even though all three are nearly brothers now considering the years they’ve been friends. There’s never been something that Yunho hasn’t been able to come to him about, and they’re both generally always open with anything between each other. Needless to say, Seonghwa always knows when something is off.

“It’s not like that Hwa, just that it’s nobody worth discussing,” Yunho insists, “Who knows where it’ll lead, you know? I’ll let you know if it goes anywhere.”

Seonghwa’s eyes linger on him for a few extra seconds before he simply hums in acceptance. There’s a particular look in his eyes as he sips his water bottle briefly, though.

“Alright... I’ll leave you with these words, though,” he begins, and his voice is earnest. The one he usually uses with Yunho when he needs some tough love. “You’ve worked hard to be where you’re at now. Be careful brother, okay?”

Yunho maintains a fairly neutral expression when he nods, careful to neither confirm nor deny Seonghwa’s thoughts, whatever they may be. Seonghwa is perceptive but surely he’d never pin Yunho as the type to have gotten involved with a student. At least, he hopes.

“You finished for today?” Yunho asks while Seonghwa searches for his keys in his pockets.

“Yeah, thank God.” When he finally finds his keys, he adds, “Don’t work yourself too hard and stay too late, ‘kay?”

Yunho assures him that he definitely won’t, and they both exchange goodbyes before he finally departs the room. He’s pretty sure that he should be the only teacher left on his side of the building in their office right now. He finally brings his phone out of his lap and shoots out the text he was in the process of sending before his friend entered his office.

[Yunho: are you almost done for the day?]

[Y/N: I’m walking to our lot now actually. Everything okay?]

Fuck. Yunho feels bad for summoning you like this on short notice but he can’t take it anymore. His mind has been thinking about one thing all day, and if it doesn’t get taken care of now he might go insane.

[Yunho: if you’re not too far can you come to my office..?]

[Yunho: pls]

You cease your walking, redirect yourself towards his side of campus, quickly typing back to let him know you’re on your way. You don’t get to see him that often, so you’d never deny the opportunity to make that happen. On your venture back to the building, you end up crossing paths with Seonghwa while he’s on his way to the parking lot to head home. The ambiguous glint in his eyes as you both acknowledge each other in passing doesn’t strike you as unusual, but you do take notice.

The building is fairly empty when you enter, which isn’t surprising for the time of day. You take your time going up the elevator and striding to his office since it didn’t seem like this request was an emergency. You also figure it’s fine to enter outright since he specifically requested you to come immediately, but the door is locked upon turning the handle.

“Mr. Jeong?”

You use formalities after you knock just to be on the safe side; you’re not entirely sure who could be hanging around this late. Moreover, maybe he’s locked the door because he’s meeting with someone else briefly before you. Before you can even unlock your phone to text him and make sure he still needs you before leaving, you hear the door’s lock click open. He opens it a second later, enough for you to enter.

“Never seen you lock your door before.” You’re more preoccupied with shoving your phone in the side pocket of your bag as you enter to notice anything off. “Something happen?”

“I’m really sorry, I just didn’t want anyone else seeing me like this,” he explains quickly.

You’re just about to ask him what he means, but Yunho doesn’t give you much of a chance to get too far before he circles his arms around your waist and swoops down to capture your lips. It’s an immensely needy kiss, one you’ve never received from him before. Unintentionally, when the aching boner in his pants brushes against you, he releases a soft groan into your mouth– Oh! The sound of him locking the door sends a chill down your back.

You manage to pull away from him and laugh, brows furrowed in confusion, “Excuse me, have you forgotten where we are?”

“My colleagues are already gone for the day,” he reasons while walking you backward over to his desk. His face is flushed as he implores, “I need you to do me a favor, okay?”

“Of course,” you nod quickly, gazing up at him with expectant eyes. Why does he look so…desperate?

This moment doesn’t feel entirely real. You’re becoming increasingly wet just thinking about the things you could do now that you two were alone in his office if what he says is true. You’ve both exchanged plenty of fleeting, amicable touches when out in public, ones that not many would think twice about, but you’ve never tried something like this when you’re still on campus. Yunho fails to finish his request, too captivated with peppering your neck in wet open-mouthed kisses while he physically coaxes you to sit on his desk. You have on a skirt today, and he’s so thankful not to have to deal with the extra work of pulling off jeans.

“What do you want me to do, Yu? I’ll do anything,” you insist and wrap your arms around his neck, beckoning for his attention, “Just tell me.”

When he stares directly into your eyes, trying to gain enough courage to speak, you reiterate once more that he can ask you for anything.

“I want you to let me go down on you,” he finally spits out before sitting back into the chair you usually sit in when visiting.

“But… Right now? Here?”

“If you’re comfortable,” he adds.

It takes a few seconds for the words to fully sink in, and you hesitate briefly before lifting your skirt against your stomach and begin lying back. Yunho scoots his chair forward with an immense amount of anticipation building in his chest; he wasn’t sure earlier if this would take more convincing, but he’s grateful it didn’t.

“That’s really all?” Your brows crease while propping yourself up on your elbows to gaze down at him inquisitively.

Your confusion makes him chuckle. For someone so good with words any other time, he surely has some trouble expressing himself well when it comes to you most times. Today, though, he decides to let his desires spill freely. He gets ahead of himself and licks a warm strip up your panties, briefly tasting the arousal that’s creating such a big wet spot in the seat of the garment.

“I don’t think you understand ____,” Yunho begins, voice low as he pulls your panties down your legs. The rise and fall of his chest quickens with excitement once you’re bare and spread open by his hands. “Fuck, I’ve been dreaming about doing this again for the longest time.”

“Eating my pussy?” He nods hastily, pressing searing kisses onto the insides of your thighs. “Why didn’t you just ask?”

He sighs when you run your hand through his hair, coy eyes gazing up at you from between your thighs, “I didn’t want to be too forward about it. How do I properly beg you to suffocate me?”

“Just like that,” you laugh, but that’s cut abruptly by him roughly yanking you by your thighs closer to his face. As much as he’d love to entertain the rest of this conversation, he’s too impatient when you’re laid out in front of him like this, all wet and ready for his mouth. He flattens his tongue against your cunt and licks another long stripe upward, the initial taste making him sigh. The breathy moan you let fly at the brief contact makes his dick twitch in his pants.

“Been touching myself to the thought of these thighs around my head,” he admits, repeating the action but putting a little extra attention on your clit, “I was so hard today that I couldn't even stand up during my last lecture. You did that.”

You would crack a teasing joke about Wooyoung having to do his job for him, but any words lingering in your head are stolen the moment Yunho buries his face in your cunt, nose prodding at your clit. He licks and laps messily at your heat like some famished gentlemen consuming a meal for the first time in days. The obscenities that spill from your lips amongst cute, helpless whines only make him nod his head. He wants you to learn—good and well—that this is something he’s self-admittedly very talented at and always ready to do if you ever find it within yourself to ask him. If you didn’t learn that the first time he briefly ate you out, you sure were going to learn now. Yunho’s tongue finds itself buried as far as he can manage in your hole, pushing in and out and savoring the way you taste.

Your hands fly to your mouth because, even if Yunho is sure that you both are alone, you still don’t want the sound of you falling apart on his tongue seeping through the door with the way you’re progressively getting louder. He doesn’t mind you suppressing yourself, he’s set on filling the silence himself. The sounds of him slurping and sucking and kissing are so loud when bouncing against the walls of his small office.

“I love the taste of you,” he groans against your heat, sending vibrations against your sensitive cunt. You gasp and go to close your legs, to move away instinctively, but Yunho is too quick. His fingertips dig deep into the meat of your thighs as he makes an effort to keep them open, refusing to let you squirm away. “Let me finish this time,” he says, voice stern and brows furrowed.

God, that commanding voice he rarely uses could make you cum on the spot. Embarrassment flushes your face when you feel a new wave of arousal from those words gush and drip down your skin. He’s not going to let any of that go to waste though, sparing no time getting back to his ministrations. You don’t even realize that after a while you’ve begun to grind yourself against his face. He feels like he’s in heaven, his hands pulling and encouraging your hips forward as if silently saying yeah, keep going, just like that.

When he feels your legs become more tense, he decides to thrust two fingers knuckle-deep into your cunt and latch his mouth onto your clit, set on abusing that spot inside of you that will finally give him exactly what he wants. He ignores the ache in his jaw because every yelp and whimper spilling from your lips spurs his endurance until he finally hears his favorite words.

“Y-Yu, m’gonna cum,” you sputter before he feels your thighs close in over his head. He doesn’t mind this time, this is right where he wants to be when you tip over anyway.

Yunho lets out one last groan of his own onto your clit before he feels your legs go rigid, a signal he knows well now. Your back arches off the desk and he indulges in the feeling of you bucking against his face. He swallows everything you have to give him, mouth open and jaw slack as you tremble through your orgasm. It takes you what feels like forever to let go of his head, not like he’s complaining. When your legs go limp, Yunho slumps back in the chair with a huff. He’d get lock-jaw multiple times a week eating you out if you let him. He supposes this is something he should suggest eventually.

“You’re so hot, it’s unbelievable,” he heaves, staring at the mess he’s made of your cunt. There’s slick and cum and spit and everything in between ruining his desk, but he can’t find it in himself to care about the cleanup right now. When you’re finally able to sit up and breathe properly, he grins at you with that messy mouth of his, “Thank you, seriously.”

“Let me give you head too,” you offer eagerly, though you’re not even sure your knees are strong enough for that right now. To your surprise, Yunho shakes his head. “Please, I want to reciprocate!”

“You don’t have to,” he replies instead, finally fully gaining his breath back. The pout prominent on your face could make him melt into a puddle, he feels so bad but…

“But you deserve to cum too—”

“I… did already, ____,” he divulges and bashfully covers his face before you can see his cheeks flush with heat. You slowly glance down at his crotch and your eyes go wide. Yunho has indeed cum completely untouched, right inside his pants, as evident from the large wet spot soaking through his brown slacks.

A man who loves eating pussy so much he gets off just from your pleasure…

You push his arm away from his face and pull him in by his cheeks for an endearing kiss, one that you hope shows your appreciation and adoration.

“I’ll take care of you another day,” you promise him against his lips upon breaking. Regardless of the embarrassment coursing through him at the moment, he nods in acceptance. Anxiously walking to his car with his briefcase pressed firmly against his crotch to hide the aftermath of committing various sins in his office after finishing his work for the day is not something he ever expected to do, but somehow it still feels gratifying all the same.

It’s around this week that Yunho begins to sit down and seriously start examining his feelings. A quiet night in his home where he’s alone leads him to decide to sort out the swarm of thoughts he’s been accumulating in his mind for the last couple of weeks.

There’s no doubt in his mind that you both share a connection he’s never experienced with another woman before. When this all first began, although he explicitly let you know that he genuinely likes you, he initially wondered if maybe that was coming from being so attention and touch-deprived for some time. That maybe he was latching onto something because you filled a void, a subconscious selfish attachment to you to satisfy the things he lacked. None of that ended up being true, not even close. You both had spent a considerable amount of time exploring this thing… he supposes that’s where the dilemma comes in. What is this “thing”? He knows things are complicated considering the circumstances; but, are you both technically dating, just without the official title until that resolves itself? You hadn’t necessarily made that clear. What if you found someone closer to your age who made you feel the same way as he did within that time? Someone who you could be normal with and not have to sneak around or hide to enjoy.

This is where his selfishness comes in.

He thinks about how he would indeed be jealous and perturbed if he even saw you with another man like that, even if it makes your life easier. He doesn’t want to even think about you giving another man the same heart palpitations or sweaty hands he gets when he’s around you. He doesn’t want anyone else on that campus to know what it feels like to kiss you. He doesn’t want anyone else to know how good and fulfilling it feels to be the object of your desires. It’s been nearly three months of dates, spending time together, and learning the ins and outs of each other (in all five senses and beyond). How could he not feel infuriated if that were to happen?

That’s when it clicks for Yunho: he’s fucking in love with you. The moment this loud thought crosses his mind, Yunho’s chest tightens in fear. The last time he thought he felt this way about a woman, she hurt him in a way that took him some lengthy time to heal from. And, as he always has to remind himself, you are not just some woman. You’re also his student. This isn’t as simple as unmatching someone on Tinder because things didn’t work out, or blocking someone after a heartbreak. Though, the more he thinks about that word — student — the more he realizes it doesn’t matter anymore. You are much more than that. And soon enough, that word would no longer be in your vocabulary anyway. The only thing he cares about now is that you end up his officially at the end of the day. He was going to do whatever he could to make the rest of your semester smooth and stress-free, so you both could be happy together when it’s over.

And, as if you know you’re being thought of, Yunho’s phone buzzes with a text from you asking if he’s asleep. He debates with himself about whether he should bite the bullet and ask if you can both talk about things in the near future, but he ultimately decides against it. For now, he’ll indulge in the way you call his phone before he can even type a response and tell him that you want to fall asleep to his voice.

Some days later, you find yourself knocking on Yunho’s office door in the early afternoon. Unlike some people, you wait until he answers with a confirmation to enter.

“Good afternoon,” he beams after realizing it’s you, wiping his hands clean with a napkin.

“Ah, I’m just in time,” you chirp with clasped hands when you spot his empty tupperware. “I was worried I was going to interrupt your eating.”

“Wouldn’t have mattered anyways, pretty. You’ve seen me eat many times.”

“You deserve to eat in peace at least once a day like everyone else,” you reason while sitting down across from him as usual, “I sprung this meeting on you last minute anyway.”

“Speaking of which, I’m still quite confused about why you wanted to come here for this,” he replies while spinning his chair from side to side, “I told you my home is always open for you, especially for things like this.”

“This” being discussing your final paper. The same thing that put you right into his lap in the first place.

“Just felt a little nostalgic I guess,” you grin, adding in a quieter voice, “And maybe a little jealous too.”

His brows furrow, “Jealous?”

His confusion is expected, as you’re sure he hasn’t paid attention to much of the interruptions you’ve experienced while with him the last few weeks on campus. It’s not simply Wooyoung either, but everyone who gets his attention on campus when you have to stay away for one reason or another. The way other women on campus look at him or speak to him, unaware that he’s already devoting his attention to you. It eats at you a bit sometimes.

Yunho may be greedy but you’re much greedier, as if that wasn’t evident enough by the things you did to attract him in the first place. Even then, he’s never failed to oblige any of your requests, whether that be with his endearment, his time, or his… assets. He deserves everything in the world, and you can’t wait to give that to him when the time arrives. For now, you’ll behave to the best of your abilities.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just rambling,” you deflect, “Seeing you in your element is just nice, that’s all.”

Yunho’s curious about what’s going on in your mind but he decides not to pursue further answers.

“So, what do I have the pleasure of helping you with today?”

The apples of his cheeks are even more prominent today as he smiles while asking this. You know he loves his job, but you’re sure he doesn’t get this much glee during office hours with anyone else.

“Last session at your house we talked about my analysis section and I remember you telling me that I was overthinking, but I’m still second-guessing myself on some of my points. I guess I just need to run some things by you to be one hundred percent sure I’m in a good direction.”

“You’re almost as bad as me,” he declares. As the self-proclaimed King of Overthinking, he’s the only person allowed to say such a thing to you. Still, it makes you pout.

“To be fair, we both know this is not my best subject, so this final might be more important to me than any of my others,” you confess. This is partially true; a small part of you wants to impress your handsome linguist by showing him a final product worth reading.

“You know I’d take care of things regardless, right? You don’t have to stress about that.”

“I appreciate that, but I want to earn this grade genuinely,” you clarify. He lets you know he understands, but you want some extra reassurance when you say, “Promise me you’ll grade me genuinely, okay?”

“I get it. I promise pretty lady,” he guarantees you with a soft, affectionate smile. “I know I tell you all the time in the most inappropriate scenarios… but I mean it when I say you’re a smart woman. I know you’ll do fine.”

If he could see you right now, Yeosang would surely be laughing at you for being such a lover-girl and telling you that you’re an absolute idiot for passing up an automatic A+ on your final, but you never genuinely pursued Yunho for that kind of leverage anyway, regardless of the initial jokes. This was something you genuinely hoped Yunho was aware of when it came to communicating your feelings.

As always, he takes all the time you need to help you with a list of things you want a second opinion on, sources you want to make sure are up to par, and everything in between. He thinks it’s cute when you pull out your little checklist named “Things To Ask Yu”, and diligently check each off as they’re completed.

A relieved sigh leaves your lips the moment you check off the final thing on the list. You both meet eyes for a brief moment, and the look donning his face is something oozing with pure adoration. You hold his gaze for what feels like forever before glancing at your watch. You’re making good time, it’s been almost an hour.

“When you look at me like that, it makes me want to throw away all my responsibilities and stay here all day,” you mumble.

He lets out an airy chuckle, “Am I keeping you from anything in particular?”

“I do have a class in about half an hour.”

He stretches his arms over his head with a grunt, “Sounds like we should end things for the day and meet here again in a couple of days then, Miss Nostalgia.”

“Well…” You trail off as you stand to your feet and make your way to the office door.

Yunho watches your fingers lock his door before you stroll back over to his side of the desk. Something stirs in his gut as he looks up into your eyes when you finally reach him, calculating the way you gaze back at him playfully. The small mischievous smirk playing on your lips… God, he just knows he’s in trouble. He turns his attention toward his laptop when you sit yourself on top of his desk right beside him.

“Well?”

“Remember how I said I would take care of you at another time?” The feeling of the edge of his desk sinking into your thighs elicits a soft sigh while you recount that day, as if him eating you out like a Christmas dinner wasn’t already ingrained into your mind. “This seems like a moment where that would be fitting.”

“Do you remember where we are?” He mimics your statement the last time you were both intimate in his office, in the same cadence and everything. His fingers delicately click at his mouse as he tries to think of anything else other than your thighs peeking out of that pleated skirt you’re wearing, directly next to his hand.

“If I remember correctly, that didn’t matter last time…”

“The circumstances were very different,” he immediately counters.

It’s true, to an extent; the timing was more on par for solitude. Regardless, he knows he sounds like the biggest hypocrite at the moment, even more evident by the roll of your eyes he catches out of the corner of his. He leans back in his chair and runs his hands through his hair. Sometimes he wishes he was more adventurous, less concerned about the consequences, and more accepting of the thrill of things. When he’s thinking of these things, it’s not even for his sake, but yours. He can’t handle the thought of you losing your degree due to his selfishness. And yet, he can’t help the arousal building from those thoughts about your mischievous side. You’re able to pull that side out of him so easily.

“And yet, you’re hard,” you say quietly when your eyes fall to his ever-so-inviting lap, a blithe little chuckle following. Subconsciously, he covers himself over his slacks. “Are you scared of getting caught even with the door locked?”

“____, it's 2 PM and we're in my office with many people passing by every minute. Not to mention my other students who could request me at literally any time,” he explains with a flustered smile, “This is immensely risky, you know that very well.”

“But–”

“You also know very well I’m extremely bad at being that quiet with you,” he interrupts your attempt to plead your case. Only then does he roll his head to the side and give you this look with low hooded eyes that finally make you glance away. His sentiments make goosebumps lace your skin because— fuck —yes you know he didn’t like being quiet. That was honestly an understatement. The heaving, moaning, and endless praise were only the start of what you could pull from the man during your escapades.

You ponder for a brief moment, contemplating just letting it go, but end up pursing your lips and resorting to those famous eyes you give Yeosang when you want something unattainable.

“Please Yu, just let me give you a good blowjob. It'll be quick and quiet, I promise.”

He just can’t say no when you look at him like that, so he sighs, “I guess…”

“I also have an idea.”

Yunho is not sure what he initially expected when those words came out of your mouth, but surely it didn’t include the way your hands slip under your skirt and tug your panties down your legs. He’s sure his entire face is a deep shade of scarlet when you hold them out for him. It doesn’t help that they're visibly wet.

“Maybe this can help you stay quiet, you know?” You suggest this while motioning to your face. He understands, of course, but he feels like this will just make things worse. So much worse. It’s confirmed when he feels his pants tighten from merely holding them in his hands. Still, he agrees and nervously pushes his chair back. After sinking under the desk, Yunho pulls his chair forward with enough room for you to sit on your knees comfortably. At least there was no way you would be seen if something strange were to arise.

Undoing his belt is one of your favorite parts, the anticipation visible in his ansty hands when he doesn’t know where to put them while you work it off. Your fingers tug lightly at his pants zipper before you dip your fingers past the hem of his waistband and pull them down quietly. He makes sure to lift his hips a little for you to slip them past just enough. You take one glance at his slightly flustered face before you pull his length from out the hole of his boxer briefs. It’s so hard that it hurts, leaking a copious amount of precum and making quite a mess.

“There are people outside the door,” he voices his nerves again at the last minute, peering at the shadows of feet passing the door, and then back down at you.

“Didn’t know you had such an exhibitionist kink then,” you poke fun at him in a whisper, noticing how much he’s twitching once the words leave his lips. A teasing laugh slips from your lips and he groans in frustration, his empty hand moving to cock to stroke himself lazily.

“I do not have an exhibitionist kink,” Yunho snaps back with a huff. His cheeks are so flushed with chagrin, and it amuses you because if he really was that scared, he’d simply tell you no. He’d turn you away with that stern voice he rarely uses and suggest a different place and time. But Yunho wants this as much as you want it, despite what his mouth may say in the meantime.

“Ready?” You remove his hand and let a long string of saliva fall from your tongue onto his tip, just enough for lubrication. Then, you place your hands around his shaft and start stroking him yourself, mixing the spit with his dribble of precum. “You seem pretty turned on by the idea of being caught, Yu.”

The endless string of soft gasps and strangled noises of air coming from him as you work your hands on him just the way he likes is enough to drive your pride up the wall. There was always something different about how you touched him that he’d never be able to fulfill himself. He’s indubitably addicted to you.

"Shit, ___–”

“Shhhh. Unless you’d prefer to get caught?” You quirk a brow curiously as you increase pressure on him so he can’t supply an answer. Instead, he kicks his head back and lets out a soft, satisfied moan that sounds similar to your name. You follow that with a tsk! and shake your head disapprovingly. “My mouth hasn’t even touched you and you’re already a mess.”

He lowers his eyes to meet yours with a pointed glare and a chill runs down your spine, “Taking your sweet time is not helping.”

You go to taunt him again but can't even finish the first word before his free hand rakes through your hair and pushes your open mouth down on his cock instead. Yunho twitches and throbs under you with a low, constricted grunt while you clutch his thighs with your nails. He’s in love with the way you look up at him so innocently, your plush lips wrapped around his length and tears prodding the corners of your eyes at the sudden intrusion. It amazes him how you’re still able to smile, eyes half-lidded as if he had just blessed your mouth.

“I’m sorry, I got ahead of myself… Can I?” He sighs out, implying letting him use your mouth as he sees fit.

The hum you release around his length and the way you relax your jaw confirm his request. Yunho holds you gently on either side of your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks tenderly before guiding you up and down his cock at a leisurely speed. Occasionally, he accidentally prods at the back of your throat and elicits a choked moan. He whispers his apologies each time even though he has nothing to be sorry about, but it’s just a habit. He winds his hand in your hair and pulls his cock out a bit to focus your mouth on his tip, bucking his hips in short, hasty thrusts and reveling in the way it draws sloppy noises from your mouth while you seal your lips around his tip to keep from making things too messy. The panties pressed to his face with his other hand aren’t doing much to repress those grunts that come from deep within his chest.

“Feels so good,” he pants softly from under the fabric, lips fixing to whimper, “Am I going too fast?”

You moan around his length once more, shaking your head and blinking away any remaining dampness from your lashes.

“If it’s ever too much, tell me to stop and I'll stop,” he insists affectionately, but those dark brown eyes are fixated on yours with blown-out irises and deep carnal cravings.

He can’t expect you to ever want him to stop when he looks like that, right? Of course not. You take everything he gives you like the good girl he already knows you are, the sounds of your squelchy throat filling the silence and bouncing off the walls of his office. As much as you try to keep things clean, you can’t help the flood of saliva dripping onto his underwear the faster he fucks into your mouth. You can tell his orgasm is growing closer and closer by the way his thighs start trembling.

And even though Yunho thinks he hears a sound closer to his office door than his comfort would allow, he continues his pace. Your eyes are closed, focused solely on breathing, so you aren’t aware of the way his attention is elsewhere. His eyes stayed trained on the silhouette of feet at the bottom of the door’s threshold, and there’s a fleeting thought of whether he should stop. That thought is overwritten with pure lust, spurred on by the way you reach up and begin to massage his balls the best you can from your position. Yunho bites down on your panties, muffling the whine bubbling from his chest. A moment later, your panties fall from his mouth and his hips lose all rhythm.

“Fuck ____– cumming,” he groans a little too loudly, but his head is somewhere deep in outer space, brain screaming at him for release, “Where?”

You open your mouth just the slightest bit wider to emphasize that you want him to cum down your throat. Yunho halts his hips altogether and you feel his cock throb in your mouth as he finally releases everything he has to offer. He’s no longer concerned with who may or may not be lurking at the door; the only thing he can focus on is the way you lock eyes with him while swallowing his essence and sucking him clean after the fact. Nothing else matters at this moment but you.

Friday’s class ends earlier than normal when Yunho gets through his lecture for the period faster than expected.

“I need you to help me dye my hair soon if you have some time,” Yeosang says the moment people begin to stand and leave. You glance over to find him grimacing while looking into the camera of his phone, “I think I need to go back to pink or something, the brown is just not doing it for me.”

“I knew it wouldn’t last long,” you snort while filling up your backpack, “You’re just not used to having natural colors anymore.”

“I can’t even argue with that, my love.”

You ruffle a hand through his tresses before he finally stands to his feet, and you follow suit. Then, you toss a couple of things around in your mind about your schedule as you both walk down the lecture hall stairs before suggesting, “Actually, you could come over tonight if you already have the supplies.”

“Fuck, you’re the best. I’ll bring dinner too?”

Before you can even answer, a voice calls your name and steals your attention. Surprisingly, it’s Wooyoung of all people approaching you both. You can’t even hide the disinterest you feel in acknowledging him, it’s written all over your face.

“Do you mind if I speak with you privately for a moment?” he inquires, motioning towards his chair.

Yeosang meets your eyes inquisitively before stepping away and telling you he’ll meet up with you later. The class has emptied when you both venture over to Wooyoung’s seat, and he begins searching through his bag for something in particular.

“Is there an issue with something I submitted?”

“Not necessarily,” he replies. “I suppose I just want some insight.”

He pulls out the notebook he uses for tracking grades in this class and places it on the table. People always find it a bit weird that he prefers to do things by hand first before electronically and, sure it might be more work than necessary, but he prefers to have both methods.

“I’m a pretty meticulous person, ____. I noticed that there’s a discrepancy in the grades for last week’s short essay assignment,” Wooyoung begins in a honeyed voice, “Though, the only discrepancy was on yours.”

“I’m not sure why you’re coming to me about this when Mr. Jeong handles things like this,” you respond indifferently. “I would ask him about the mistake.”

Wooyoung smiles and leans forward on his elbows, “That’s the funny thing, I did. He told me that he had made the change himself and not to worry about it. No other explanations.”

“Well again, he’s the teacher, so it sounds pretty open and shut then.”

“It’s never that simple, ____. I looked back and noticed this has happened a few times throughout the last month, actually.”

“If you’re just going to keep badgering me about grade changes I have nothing to do with then I’m gonna end this conversation here.” To be honest with yourself, there’s a part of you deep down that’s cursing profusely at Yunho for messing with your grades, and so openly at that. This is something you had explicitly made clear you didn’t need or want, but he had done it anyway. This is something you would have to chastise him about later in a very serious conversation. That’s the only concern on your mind as you start taking steps toward the doors and wave with a flick of your wrist, “Anyways, I’ve gotta go. I have other obligations for the day.”

“You mean like sucking off your teacher again?”

You cease all movement and turn back towards him, “Excuse me?”

“Sorry, that came out a little blunt, didn’t it?” He holds his hands up in remission. “It’s just not hard to put two and two together when your ear is pressed to a door and all you hear is choking, you know?”

“I have no clue what the fuck you’re talking about, but I’m offended you think I’d need that to pass a class anyway,” you reply indignantly. Still, there’s this slight feeling of panic pooling in your stomach.

Wooyoung gives you a knowing look, “You’re going to play stupid, really?”

“Look, I really don’t have the time for this—”

“I suppose we could ask the Dean what she thinks about things then? He said your name quite a few times, luckily,” Wooyoung interrupts you and suggests instead. His eyes flicker down to his phone and a pure look of fear at the thought that he possibly has a recording of you and Yunho’s depravity slates your face. “Oh, that got your attention.”

His laugh that follows that statement hits you right in your gut.

“My God, you’re an absolute asshole,” you seethe, but stop yourself before you can say anything worse. You’re well aware that being mean won’t get you on his good side. Instead, you calm yourself and rub your temples before asking, “What do you want to keep quiet, money? I don’t have much to offer but I can figure something out.”

“Listen, ____,” he says as he leans back in his chair and clasps his hands together, “I have a simple proposition that could make all of this just disappear.”

“Spit it out already then.”

“I want you to pretend we’re together for a little bit, publicly. Just enough time to make my ex want me back. Then, we can call it quits and go about our lives as if none of this happened.”

You can’t help the scoff that comes out of you, “You want me to fake date you to make your ex jealous, or else you’re going to essentially ruin my life. Is that what I’m hearing?”

“When you say it like that, it makes it sound evil,” Wooyoung points out with a hefty sigh. He slumps in his seat, “I’m not an evil guy, I would just like some help. That’s all. And you’re just not really in a position to say no, unlike others I’ve asked.”

“There’s a reason why those people said no, obviously,” you retort bitterly. He lets your sharp words roll off his back and simply smiles; there’s nothing you could say that would help your position and he knows this. It’s mid-November and graduation is in approximately a month. Surely it shouldn’t take that long for this plan of Wooyoung’s to finish, he knows this. The thought of it going on longer than necessary makes you feel physically ill though. Not to mention what Yunho would think about you having to interact with Wooyoung intimately.

“I want to make something clear as well,” he begins as if he’s forgotten this himself, “You cannot tell any of this to Mr. Jeong either. I don’t want my money for my assistant position to be compromised, obviously.”

Your brain begins to short-circuit at the thought of having to date Wooyoung openly without Yunho being aware it’s fake. The logistics in itself would cause you immense stress that you surely don’t need while closing out the end of your semester. You should very well be focusing on graduating and nothing more. Nonetheless, the last thing you want is for Yunho to lose his job because you couldn’t keep your mouth to yourself when he was already concerned about being caught that day. You don’t even care about the consequences for yourself, you’d feel immense guilt forever for ruining Yunho’s career and reputation. But, if Yunho heard that you were dating his TA, he’d surely break things off with you anyway. That thought scared you even more.

“So, would you like to exchange numbers?”

Halting your panic-stricken daze is Wooyoung’s hand surrendering his phone to you, a blank contact screen ever-so-inviting. You feel defeated, and you know this is going to end up turning out poorly, but you just can’t risk Yunho losing his job over you. When your anxious fingers snatch his phone and begin typing your information, Wooyoung sighs in contentment.

♡ taglist: @yeos-bunny @sharksandminhos @sannieluvrr @txt-yaomi @thisisntmyrightera @oreoqueen @jadeneliz @atinism @uarmytess @nopension @aaaaajonghooooo @tmtxtf @ateezallday @bloomyroses @shingene @likexaxdaydream @innsomniacshinestar @st4rhwa @eixila @sunflower-png @jadeneliz @witchlaughwoo @ashlurrr @justthattheatregirl @bts-army380

I apologize if I missed anyone! Thank you for reading ◡̈

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rboooks · 10 months

Note

If you take requests can you do a dc x dp with dead tired ship?

I love requests~! I really hope I got dead tired, ship, right. I need to find out the ship names. It's Tim/Danny, right? If not, let me know, and I'll fix you another one.

Tim really wasn't looking forward to meeting the new heir to Vladco. Usually, his parents didn't want anything to do with new money, as they thought that new money was too close to no money, but Vlad Masters was different.

The difference? He bought out almost all of Drake Industries' shares, and now Tim honestly thinks he owns more of the family company than his parents. Jack and Janet hoped to make good connections with the man and slowly but surely trick him into selling the shares back to the Drakes.

Tim thought if he was smart enough to get the people that bought shares of his family company generations ago, not just once but at least eight times, then Vlad Masters wouldn't be as easy to trick as they thought.

Then again, his parents aren't the best businessmen around. If they were, they wouldn't be flying through the family wealth, leading them to bankruptcy.

Tim would know.

One day, he looked at their books when he was bored a few months after discovering Batman's identity. He tried to tell his mom about it, but she told him that he didn't understand the business well enough to tell.

So he signed himself into college-level business courses online to learn it. She didn't appreciate his initiative.

"Remember, Tim, Daniel Masters is who you must befriend," Janet says for the third time as they climb out of their car. " Friendships are the ladders to climbing up in the world."

"Yes, Mom." He tries to smile at her, but all Tim wants to do is go back to the roofs of Gotham and watch the Bats.

Jason is supposed to start his solo patrols tonight, which is a big deal, and he's missing it. His parents weren't supposed to be back for another month. However, their latest job was canceled due to locals complaining.

His dad grumbled about people getting in the way of history, but Tim thinks it has more to do with his parents wanting to dig up an old cemetery......apparently the locals like their grandparent's resting place to be left alone.

Tim also thinks it's not lovely to dig there just because the locals are poor, so he may have hacked into the country's files and flooded the internet with the disrespectful attempt that his parents were trying to make. It received the right amount of backlash to stop the whole operation.

He then sent the community an anonymous donation so they could fix it up, get the gravestones washed, and the stories of the buried people turned into a book. It's the least he could do.

Tim's parents didn't realize the loss of funds only because he carefully hid his tracks with shell companies.

They are greeted at the door by Vlad Masters. He gives his father a handshake, compliments his mother's dress, and even offers Tim a gentle hello. Masters is known for being a bit of a humble hermit, soft-spoken but with sharp, intelligent eyes.

Everything he expects new money to be, down to his mannerism and even the way he stands. Tim would have been able to clock him miles away without even knowing his name.

"This is my son, Daniel," Masters says, patting the head of a frowning boy Tim's age. He stands just a bit away from Masters as if he does not want to be near him. Tim notes the way he shies away from Master's hand.

Interesting.

"It's Danny." The boy hisses. Mom's face tightens at his manners. She never liked children being heard instead of seen. Danny takes a small breath before smiling at the Drakes with a friendlier composure.

The hostility was only toward his father?

"Please call me Danny. It's my real name, not a nickname," He says, offering his hand for a shake. Tim fights a wince. As the son of a wealthy family and not the head, Danny is not supposed to initiate a greeting with Tim's dad.

He just told the Drakes he needs to be aware of high society rules, making him easy pickings. His parents jump onto that weakness like a lion on a trap gazelle.

"Daniel. It's lovely to meet you. " Mom's articulation is just a shade away from being mocking. Danny's smile falls off his face closing down into a near-emotionless mask. "How old are you, deary?"

"I'm old enough to still hear correctly, unlike you. That's not my name. It's Danny." He says much to mom's surprise. Tim guesses she's not used to people challenging her so directly. He learned that, too, while he was running Gotham.

The elites always made passive-aggressive backhanded comments to insult each other. The poor told you to fuck off to your face.

"You do not speak that way to my wife, Daniel-" His Dad starts, but Danny holds up his hand.

"You either call me Danny or don't talk to me." He says. "I don't need to waste my breath repeating myself."

Wow. Tim thinks, watching the red growing on Dad's face. He's cool.

"Are you going to let him talk to me like that?" Dad demands, turning to an amuse-looking Masters. The other man raises a brow, his gentle smile still on his face, but somehow it looks more....dismissive now. As if he was looking at a child demanding the impossible.

"Why ever do you mean?" Masters asks, "Your tone implies you were insulted, but that would mean you are upset with a child asking to be spoken to with respect. Surely, a man of your standing knows children deserve respect?"

"They need to respect their elders." Mom cuts in her voice like ice.

"He is my son, so I am his elder. Not you." Master counters, "But not to worry, I will remedy this issue. Danny will no longer be speaking to you disrespectfully, as I will not allow him to be near you."

His parents had a few seconds of looking smug until Masters waved his hand back towards the driveway. "Have a lovely night, Mr. and Mrs. Drake."

"Excuse me?" Mom cries, and Tim can't believe his eyes. The rest of the wealthy guests have caught on to the issue and have gathered near the windows and doorway to watch.

"That's Fruitloop for You can leave now." Danny chirps starting to look more like his father by the amusement on his face. "Except for him. He's cool."

He points to Tim, who flushes at the attention. He had been staring at Danny, taking in every detail of his expression and body language, fascinated by the fact he did not once seem intimidated. He didn't even look bored.

He seemed comfortable in his slightly slouched posture and confident in his skin and abilities. But his earlier behavior implied that just as he is confident in himself, he also doesn't think very highly of himself.

Tim's never seen anyone like that. It's strange. New. Exciting.

Heck, it was exhilarating.

Tim wanted to break Danny Masters' head open and figure everything about him out. It felt like a new case just begging him to uncover.

"I am?" He asks in a slight daze, and the other boy offers him a dazzling smile.

"Yeah, you respect the dead. The spirits adore you."

What?

"Oh, this is the young boy who protected that cemetery in Guatemala?" Masters asks with genuine warmth this time. "A fine job, Timithoy."

"It's Tim." He hears himself say, and Masters nods.

"A fine job Tim."

Danny offers him a wink, and Tim thinks his stomach just fell out of his body. What is this-?

"Timothy, we are leaving!" His mother screeches, tugging on his arm and yanking him away. The rest of the guests laugh as the Drakes are driven away. Tim knows he will never be allowed near Danny after this, so he turns his head around to give the boy one last look.

He meets the glowing green eyes of the Masters, who wave their fingers at him.

Tim starts following Danny around after that.

(Danny and Vlad know he's there and think it's cute. That's how ghost courts, so they don't see it as a problem. What is problem is getting along long enough for them to figure out a way back to their home dimension. Danny allowed Vlad to overshadow people just so they could have the means to eat, but he's getting really sick of Gotham. At least the soft clicking sound of a camera lures him to sleep at night.

Tim approaches Robin before his hero can go to Ethiopia. He doesn't understand what he is experiencing as his first crush and concludes that the Masters are aliens planning on luring small children by making them fall under a spell through their glowing eyes. Jason takes this very seriously and agrees to wait on his mission overseas. He realizes early on what's actually happening but, by that point, thinks Tim is hilarious and just edges him on.

He, too, thinks the Masters are aliens, but he's not about to tell Bruce.)

#dc x dp crossover #The Masters are aliens Au #Requested Prompt #Danny Fenton/Tim Drake #Bad parents Jack and Janet Drake #Tim is 13 here #Danny is 14 #Vlad just thinks this all hilarious #Dimension travel #They call DC dead “spirits” and not ghost cause they lack more ecotplsm

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 1 year

Text

Left at the Altar - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / (Ex-Girlfriend) Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Light Angst; Drama; Getting Left at the Altar (Not by Hangman); Asshole Ex (Not Hangman); Second Person POV ("You"), No Y/N, No Physical Description for the Reader

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Summary: When you get left at the altar, a familiar face swoops in to save the day.

Edit: Part 2 Part 3 Epilogue

Master List

Ever hit rock bottom? Well, you thought you did. And then you got stood up at your own wedding.

Staring up at the altar, you slowly sat down in the front pew. You sat your bouquet down beside you and reached up to pull out the pins holding your veil in place. You definitely weren’t going to need them. Not after the text message that you received from your ex-fiancé.

That’s right. You got dumped on your wedding day through a text message.

And frankly, the part about the whole situation that annoyed you the most was the fact that you should have been the one to dump him. You were the one who threatened to call the wedding off months ago when you found some suspicious text messages between your fiancé and a woman labelled as ‘Domino’s’ in his phone.

As if anyone texted Domino’s about their secluded lake house.

You should have just pulled the plug on the whole thing when you had the chance. Instead, you let him dump and humiliate you publicly.

Taking a deep breath, you glanced around the small church. Most of the guests filed out when it became apparent that there was a runaway groom. All of the people that remained in the church were a few close friends and immediate family members.

Your ex-fiancé’s family stood awkwardly in the corner, not really sure what to do. There wasn’t a really good or efficient way to apologize for their cowardly bastard of a son without suffering some rather intense glares from your family and friends. You already gave the engagement ring back to your ex-fiancé’s mom, since it was supposedly a family heirloom.

Maybe you should have just flushed it down the toilet instead.

You looked forward again when your mom walked over to you. She gave you a small, comforting smile as she pushed your veil and bouquet to the side and sat down beside you. Your mom stared up at the altar for a moment, seemingly walking through what she was going to say to you. She reached out and grabbed your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“It’ll be okay, sweetie,” she whispered to you. “You’ll get past this.”

“I know,” you replied, nodding slowly. “I know, Mom.”

“Do you need anything?”

“No,” you replied softly, shaking your head. Letting out a breath, you turned back to your mom with a composed expression. “Why don’t you and everyone else go and eat at the venue? It’d be stupid to let all of that food go to waste. We already paid for it.”

“Actually, his family offered to pay for everything. Even your dress,” your mom explained, glancing over at your supposed-to-be in laws. “They were extremely embarrassed.”

“Can’t imagine why,” you drawled sarcastically, shaking your head. You let out a breath before you turned back to your mom. “Has Dad calmed down?”

“Somewhat. He calmed down a lot when they offered to pay for everything. But I worry for your ex if he ever crosses paths with your father again.”

“If he’s smart—which he’s not—he’ll avoid the entire county,” you replied, pursing your lips together. “He’s probably sitting at his lake house with ‘Domino’s’ right now.”

“That’s unfortunate for him,” your mom told you, causing you to nod in return.

“Damn straight.”

You and your mom shared a small smile before you sobered up for a moment. Glancing around the church, you leaned back in your pew. You turned to your mom and suddenly felt like you were a teenager again and needed her to help you with a situation that you got yourself in.

“Do you think that I could be alone for a bit?” you asked softly, folding your arms across your lap.

“Are you sure? I don’t think that you should be alone right now, sweetheart,” your mom replied, grabbing your hand. “Why don’t you just come to the venue with the rest of us? You can burn the dress if you want to, but just come with us.”

“I will, Mom, but I just need some time by myself for a little bit.”

Albeit reluctantly, your mom got up and ushered everyone else out of the church to give you some time alone. The venue was only ten minutes down the road, so your mom told you to just text her when you wanted to be picked up. You thanked her again for all of her help and support before she left with everyone else.

You slowly got to your feet after you thought that everyone else was gone. You let out a breath to calm yourself down and simply worked through some thoughts. Eventually turning for the aisle, you paused when you spotted a familiar figure walking through the church doorway.

Jake Seresin. Or Jacob Michael Seresin III, if you were going by his birth name. Or Hangman, as he supposedly went by these days. Lieutenant Jake “Hangman” Seresin.

The boy that you fell in love with when you were fifteen. Your high school boyfriend, your first love, your first everything, really. The man that, had he stayed in Texas and taken over his family’s business like he was expected to do, you probably would have already married.

But life wasn’t a fairytale. And certainly not your life.

Jake slowly walked further into the church, pulling off his dress white cap as he stepped forward. He tucked it under his arm and offered you a small smile as he stopped in front of you. His hair was perfectly gelled and styled and his dress whites were absolutely pristine. And that genuine smile, the one that he seemed to use less and less as he aged, was just like you remembered.

He looked like he stepped straight out of a dream. Out of your dream.

“I’m not too late, am I?” he asked, looking around the otherwise empty church.

“No,” you scoffed, shaking your head. You glanced up at the rafters before turning back to him. “I got left at the altar.”

Instantly, the kind, genuine smile dropped from Jake’s face. His whole demeanor changed in an instant. He frowned and opened his mouth before pausing, most likely trying to not just blurt out the first words that came to mind in a church. But his entire stance looked like he was ready to storm out of the church to drag your fiancé out of whatever hole he was hiding in.

“He didn’t show up?” Jake asked with his voice dangerously low.

“No, he sent me a text,” you explained quietly. Letting out a laugh that was meant to be humorous, but was really rather pathetic in reality, you looked away from Jake for a moment. “I mean, at least I didn’t marry him. It could be worse.”

“Where is he then?”

“Somewhere, anywhere,” you replied honestly, pursing your lips together. “Frankly, I never want to see him or hear his name ever again, so I could care less.”

“Still, he shouldn’t get away with doing this to you,” Jake stated seriously.

It had a level of force behind it that you knew wasn’t directed towards you. More like on your behalf than anything else.

Hell, Jake had always been protective over you and more than willing to fight for you. He wasn’t someone who kept a lot of close friends, but when anyone was within Jake Seresin’s inner circle, he would fight for them with everything that he had. And you knew that the state of your relationship didn’t impact that.

“He’s not worth the trouble,” you stated, waving your hand to the side. “And besides, I’d really just like to move on from all of this. If I can.”

“Of course, you can,” Jake spoke softly, reaching out to take your hand. “He’s just a . . . I can’t say the word that I want to say because we’re standing in a church.” You laughed and shook your head at Jake. “But either way, it’s his loss.”

“Thanks Jake.”

“I’m serious. I mean, any guy who looks at you, especially when you’re in that dress . . .” Jake trailed off, letting his eyes rake over your form, “. . . and doesn’t hope to be the guy standing there, waiting for you at the altar . . . he’s not worth your time.”

You felt your heart flutter in your chest, just like it used to whenever he would wave to you in the hallway between classes when you two were teenagers. And staring into Jake’s bright green eyes, you knew that he meant every word that he spoke. Rocking your joined hands back and forth, you tried to settle the wobble in your lips.

“I didn’t want it to be him,” you stated honestly, causing Jake to noticeably pick his head up. “He . . . I gave into the pressure that I should be married and moving into that stage of my life by now and . . . I should have never agreed to marry him in the first place.”

Jake nodded slowly and turned to look at the ground. A moment passed where he seemed to be trying to compose himself before he slowly picked his head up again.

“Who did you want it to be?” Jake asked softly, so softly that you didn’t hear it the first time.

“What?”

“Who did you want it to be?” he repeated, picking his head up and staring deeply into your eyes. “Waiting for you at the altar, I mean.”

Your breathing subtly picked up and your lips parted a bit at Jake’s question. And the intensity of his stare that made your entire body feel like it was on fire. Slowly and tentatively reaching out, you gently cupped Jake’s cheek with your hand and rubbed your thumb across his soft skin.

“My answer hasn’t changed,” you stated quietly as emotion started to clog your throat. “It never has.”

The two of you naturally leaned towards each other. Your bodies seemed to naturally fit together as you pressed up together. The two of you slowly leaned in until your foreheads rested together. And when he was standing this close, you could pick out all of the different colors in his eyes, which were staring down at your lips.

Gently cupping the back of your neck, Jake pulled you in for a soft kiss. Your lips moved together like they had never been parted in the first place. Not by school or deployments or life in general. For much of your adult lives, the issue was never your feelings for each other but everything else getting in the way. But right there, in that small little church in rural Texas, life wasn’t in the way.

Nothing and no one were in the way. Not anymore.

Jake dropped his hat and wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you closer. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and cupped his cheek once again, guiding your lips together. It probably would have gotten you disapproving looks if anyone else was around, but for that perfect little moment, it was just the two of you.

Pulling away a few moments later, you rested your foreheads against each other’s and smiled to yourselves. Breathing a bit heavily, you trailed your fingers down Jake’s cheeks as he brushed his nose against your own.

“When do you have to leave?” you asked quietly.

“Tomorrow morning,” Jake sighed, clearly sounding disappointed. “I could barely get any time off. I actually owe Coyote a laundry list of things because he covered for me.”

“Then we shouldn’t waste any time,” you replied, trying to look on the positive side.

About ten seconds later, you and Jake hurried out of the church hand-in-hand. Jake’s rented truck was the only car in the parking lot and you both quickly made a beeline for it. Jake unlocked and opened the door for you to climb inside. You sat down and Jake hurried to push the rest of your dress inside before shutting the door.

You pulled him in for another excited kiss as he slid into the driver’s seat before Jake started his rented truck to drive the two of you to the hotel. As Jake backed out of the parking lot, you sent your mom a quick text, which was just a simple photo of Jake.

“Do you have the directions to the hotel?” Jake asked, turning back around and heading for the road.

“Yeah and the confirmation, so we can actually check in,” you mused, smiling over at him.

As Jake pulled out onto the road, you got a text back from your mom. You let out an amused noise and shook your head when you read her message.

Don’t forget protection. Or do. I wouldn’t mind a grandbaby if you two agreed on one. Love you!

You sent your mom a quick ‘love you’ text back before turning off your notifications. Jake reached out and grabbed your hand, threading your fingers together. Jake pulled your hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.

And even though this wasn’t how you expected your wedding day to go, you had to admit that this outcome was actually far better than the one you that had in mind.

Part 2 Part 3 Epilogue

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nicksolemnlyswears · 5 months

Text

THE MENTOR

summary: coriolanus takes it upon himself to show you the ropes of pleasure

pairing: young! coriolanus snow x capitol! reader

word count: 4.3k

warnings: 18+, smut, cursing, fingering, female masturbation, mention of male masturbation, breast play, talks of virginity loss, perv! coriolanus, slight cum play, corruption kink is very prominent LEAVE ME ALONE IM PREDICTABLE, MY MIND IS ROTTEN

a/n: i'm back again! didn't expect it to be so soon but alas i cannot control myself. this can be read as a stand alone or as a prequel for my other one shot ways to destress. i'm working on part 2 for ways to destress but have this while i finish it <3

requests open ✨

Coriolanus steals glances at you from his spot on the desk. You sat cross-legged on your bed, deep in thought, biting the eraser end of the pencil in your fingers. He's formulating ideas about you instead of focusing on the report he has to present to Dr. Gaul tomorrow.

It's the first time you've invited him into your family home since you became a couple four months ago, and you're all alone in the big mansion. He can't help but wonder if anything will come out of it.

Despite being in a serious relationship for four months, Coriolanus has only kissed you. Nothing more and nothing less. It was one of your conditions because he's your first boyfriend.

'Let's take things slow, Coriolanus,' you had said back then, looking at him with those puppy dog eyes you'd mastered.

You're a timid girl. It's why you've never truly had a boyfriend before. None of the other boys you've been on dates managed to coax you out of your shell enough for them to pursue the relationship, except for Coriolanus. He took his time with you, becoming your friend, gaining your trust, and finally asking you out.

It wasn't by chance that he took that route to court you. He's been watching you since you stepped into the classroom last year. The annoyance he felt about being a teaching assistant swept away as a brand new opportunity sat in front of the class like a good student.

He recognized you and the crest on the gold ring you always wear. Your family is wealthy, and they have a great reputation amongst the Capitol's elite. It would benefit him to associate himself with you and, by proxy, your family.

Coriolanus felt luck was on his side when you approached him with questions about the homework the Professor handed out. You served yourself in a silver dish platter for his hungry ambition.

One year later, he has you wrapped around his little finger.

He'd be lying if he said he doesn't have feelings for you. Just as he infiltrated your life, you infiltrated his heart. You're sweet and kind, book smart, and beautiful. He'd be a fool not to feel anything towards you.

When you groan about the essay you're supposed to write and the crease between your eyebrows deepens, Coriolanus steps in.

"It's time for a break, don't you think?" He gently asks, closing your notebook and putting it to the side.

"I guess," you sigh, looking up at him with a pout.

You've been distracting yourself from Coryo's penetrating gaze and general presence in your personal space. You had invited him with the pretense of a study date, seeing as your body asks for something else.

It's time you give Coryo more. He's been incredibly patient with you, just as you'd asked. Still, your heart pounds in your chest at the thought of him touching you like no one ever has, and the knot in your throat prevents you from saying it out loud.

Coriolanus sits on the bed with you, cupping your jaw in his hands, brushing his thumb across your cheek. You lean into his touch with a soft smile, leaning into your body's desire, and you kiss him. It's enough to spark the salacious thoughts in Coriolanus's head.

He deepens the kiss by swiping his tongue on your plump bottom lip, begging you to let him in. Just like he taught you, you open your mouth, letting his tongue lick the inside of your mouth, tasting the cherry drink you love so much.

The corners of Coriolanus's lips slightly curve upwards; he's so proud of himself and you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him towards you, and he willingly leans into you, hugging your hips.

Finding the position mildly uncomfortable, he lifts you to straddle his lap. Immediately, you tense under his hold and pull back. It's instinctual as your thoughts suddenly surface and cause you to overthink.

"Are you alright?" Coriolanus asks you with feigned concern. He knows the reason why, but you're important to him. In his eyes, you're perfect for him, and he doesn't want to screw things up.

"I'm just nervous," you admit, diverting your gaze to his collar and fixing it.

You're tired of feeling behind in life when your friends talk about sex. You're tired of that ache inside you that you can't satiate. You're tired of pulling away each time Coryo makes any move on you when all you want is to feel his skin against yours.

It's only been a few months, but your feelings for Coriolanus Snow run deep. Many will call you a fool for falling into the claws of first love, but it's a mistake you must make on your own.

If anyone is to take your firsts, it'll be Coriolanus.

"Do you want me to stop touching you?" He asks, loosening his hold on you.

Coriolanus is ready to learn the extent of your inexperience. It's been a topic you've only briefly touched upon. Yes, you're a virgin. Has anyone touched you, though, or given you any sort of pleasure?

"No!" You exclaim too forwardly, embarrassing yourself. It spurs Coriolanus, though, as he softly grins. "I mean, no. This is okay. You can keep touching me," you say as you return his hand to its designated spot in the curve of your hips.

"Darling…" he calls, but your gaze remains on his chest as strands of hair cover your face, "Look at me."

When your eyes meet his steely blue ones, he continues, "Have you ever touched yourself?"

"Why are you asking me this?" You ask with your eyes wide and nervous.

"I just want to see how much you know and how far you want to go. I'd feel terrible if I somehow make you uncomfortable or force you into anything you don't want," he responds honestly. Keeping you close to him is his priority, and if controlling his urges is necessary, then be it.

"Oh…" you sigh. You close your eyes tightly before opening them again and responding, "Yes, I do."

"Tell me how," he says. It's not really a question but a command.

Your face burns as you disclose information that is normally private, "I, um, touch my clit."

"I see," Coriolanus nods encouragingly, squeezing your hips, "Do you think about me?" He asks teasingly, giving you a hard time.

The more he asks, the more you relax onto his body, too stuck in your head to notice.

"Sometimes," you admit with a soft smile.

Coriolanus is satisfied with your answer for now. In the future, when he asks again, he needs the answer for it to be always. He'll be halfway there by the end of the 'study date.'

"Has anybody touched you before?" It's the one question he's been most curious about.

"No," you shake your head.

Coriolanus is over the moon. His thoughts get more and more deranged with your confession as his dark side begs him to take away your innocence and corrupt you to his liking.

"Would you like me to?" He asks, grasping her jaw with two fingers to force her wandering eyes to settle on his. He hasn't even touched you properly, and you're breathing heavily. He wonders what's going on in that pretty little head of yours.

You're praising whatever god exists, thanking them for Coryo's forwardness. You don't think you could've gotten the words out otherwise.

"Yes," you answer shyly as excitement builds inside you.

With a short kiss, Coryo places you by the top of the bed, propped up by your many pillows. Your comfort is his top priority today. He wants you to come back for more, after all.

"Tell me if you want to stop," he whispers in your ear as he kisses your cheek.

Coriolanus feels your shaky breaths as he kisses down the expanse of your neck. He takes it as a good sign when you stretch it out more for him.

"Coryo," you bite back a moan when he finds your sweet spot.

He gently bites into your delicate skin, leaving a soft red mark. Coriolanus can't visibly mark you yet, or he'll cast a wrong impression on your father. So, he settles for red flowers that will disappear by morning.

His fingers expertly unbuttoned the crisp white blouse of the university's uniform. He lifts his head briefly to look at the pale pink bra that deprives him of your breasts. It's pretty and innocent, like you.

"You're beautiful, darling," he says when he spots your nervous eyes waiting for his approval.

Dipping down once more, he mouths the mounds of your breasts, leaving wet kisses on your skin. Coriolanus wraps his mouth over the cups of your bra, teasing you, introducing you to his touch.

Sitting up, he helps you shrug off the white blouse. He kisses you to distract you from his hands that wrap around you, unclasping the bra. He's pleasantly surprised with the neediness you kiss him with. Poor thing must've been wanting this for a while.

Coriolanus pushes you back down with his weight, never breaking the kiss. He slides your bra off and throws it into a corner of the room. Pulling away, he looks at your bare chest, licking his lips lustfully.

You deprive him of the sight when you insecurely cross your arms to cover yourself. It peeves Coriolanus to no end. Surely, you must know what a sight you are.

"Don't cover yourself, darling. You're beautiful," he says, grabbing one of her hands and kissing her palm.

"T-thank you," you stutter out, letting your other arm fall to the side.

Coriolanus finds it precious how polite you are to him. How compliant you act with a couple of kind words from him. That's just how he likes it.

Coriolanus begins with a simple touch. He traces a path down your neck with the pad of his finger, trailing it across your skin and up the swell of your breasts. He circles the stiffening peak of your nipple, giving it a cheeky tug.

He's happy with the moan that falls from your lips despite him barely doing anything. Taking it up another notch, he leans his head down to latch onto your nipple, the fat of your breast filling his mouth.

Coriolanus releases a moan of his own as his tongue flicks over your nipple, and you arch your back into it. However, he's unhappy with the lack of contact from you.

Reaching for one of your hands, he places it on the back of his head, urging you to touch him. This is only fun if you want to touch him as much as he wants to touch you.

One hand digs into his hair, and the other wraps around his back. Coriolanus goes back and forth between one breast and the other, incorporating new things for you. Kissing, sucking, pinching, squeezing, biting. He's confident he's made the right choice with you when you respond beautifully to one of his bites.

"Yes, Coryo, more," you whine and beg when he tugs on your nipple with his teeth. For that, he leaves a pretty purple bruise on your chest. A reward for himself.

"That's it, darling. Don't hold your pretty moans from me any longer," Coriolanus purrs, finding your red-bitten lips.

Coriolanus involuntarily ruts into you when you slip your tongue into his mouth. His girl was turning bolder by the minute; all she needed was to be touched.

No one can shake the innocence off you as you moan and widen your eyes when you feel his hard cock press into you. Coriolanus is straining against his trousers and has been for a while now. This whole situation is a fantasy come to life and it makes him throb.

He must control himself. He cares about you greatly, and with that level of care comes control. Control over himself and you. Three years ago, he failed to control himself, and he failed to control Lucy Gray. He can't afford to make the same mistake. There is more at stake now.

Realistically, Coryo has barely touched you, and you're a needy mess. There is heat coursing through your body that is settling in between your legs. Your panties stick to you with your arousal, making you fidgety.

Reminds you of your clenched thighs whenever he's near. How you've abused your clit thinking about Coriolanus and his affectionate ways that are reserved solely for you.

"Coryo, please," you beg, cupping his face in your hands.

"Tell me what you want," Coriolanus pointedly says. He enjoys your innocence, but he wants to taint it so desperately. He needs to hear you talk dirty words in his ear.

"Touch me," you say, pressing your lips against his.

Coriolanus keeps his hands firmly on your waist, not giving into your pleas until you speak clearly, "Where do you want me to touch you, darling?"

"Please, touch my-my cunt," you stutter your words as your face burns again. You hide your face in his neck, brushing your lips delicately against it.

You're the complete opposite of him. Soft when he's rough. Innocent when he's wicked. Quiet when he's outspoken. What a perfect pair you make.

You gasp when he feels you through your wet panties. Coriolanus traces up and down your covered slit, teasing you. You're moaning into his neck, his foreign touch overwhelming you.

With a kiss to your temple, Coriolanus sits up between your spread thighs. He lifts your skirt, bunching it on your middle, preferring to leave it on your body. Your center is exposed to him, the wet patch on your matching panties clearly visible to his eyes.

You watch him as he bites his lips and rubs his hands up and down your thighs. He's preparing, reminding himself to keep his shit together. If it were up to him, he'd be fucking you silly.

"Let's take these off, yeah?" Coriolanus slips your ruined panties off your legs without waiting for your response. He kisses up your ankle to your knee as he settles between your thighs.

Your thigh is next as he nears your wet center. Your arousal glistens as it clings to your pussy lips. You look down at Coryo, propped up on your elbows.

"Darling, why don't you show me how you do it?" He asks, amused.

When you make no move, he grabs your hand and places it between your legs, encouraging you, "It's just you and I."

"Okay, Coryo," you whisper.

Biting your lips, you press your middle finger on your pink pearl. It's still safely hidden between your lips. Coriolanus observes how your cunt reacts to you circling your clit. Thick clear liquid drips from your opening, and he catches how you gather some of it to spread on your reddening clit.

The closer you get to your peak, the faster you go, your index finger joining your middle finger as you broaden your movements. Your head is thrown back with whines that join the 'shlick, shlick, shlick' of your wet cunt.

Coriolanus forces himself out of his trance of seeing you play with yourself from up close. He hadn't caught himself talking you through it, speaking lewd words to make you cum. Quick as a snake, he grabs your wrist to stop you.

"Coryo, no. Why'd you make me stop?" You whine, lifting your head back up.

"I'm not done with you just yet," he responds sternly, releasing your wrist. Today you'll only cum around his fingers.

"Oh?"

Coriolanus dips his finger between the lips of your cunt, gathering your arousal in his finger. He's finally touching you like you asked. He taps on your clit that's peeking out of its hood, making you lightly flinch at the suddenly burst of pleasure.

"Have you ever fingered yourself?" He shamelessly asks before he attempts to slip a finger into you.

"No, it feels uncomfortable," you respond, figuring out where this is going.

Coriolanus holds back a smile. It's like he'd won the lottery and gained this beautiful, pure creature, untouched by anyone. You're his to taint to his image so you always remember his touch.

"Will you let me give it a try?" He pretends to ask. If you say no, he'll still try to convince you.

"Mhm," you hum, "Be gentle."

"Always," Coriolanus quips, locking eyes with you.

Coriolanus coats his middle finger with your arousal before he pushes his finger in. He circles your clit to get you to relax due to your constant tense state.

"I need you to relax for me," he speaks up, kissing the inside of her thigh. Taking a couple of deep breaths, you finally soften, "There we go, princess."

Coriolanus distracts you by swiping his fingers up and down your slit, so you don't know when he plans to slip it in. Finally, his middle finger dips into your opening, parting your walls. "So fucking tight," he groans when he finds your walls want to push him right out.

You let out a shaky gasp when you feel his long finger breach your entrance. It's been years since you last tried. It doesn't hurt, to your surprise, but there is a particular feeling of your cunt accommodating his finger.

"I'm sorry," you quickly apologize, biting onto the back of your hand when he tentatively starts pushing his finger in and out.

"It's nothing to be sorry about. It's a good thing," he reassures you. His cock will feel so snug when he fucks you for the first time. He's hit a gold mine with you.

Your walls squeeze his finger like a vice, and he finds himself reminding you to try and relax. Carefully he pumps his finger in and out, light clicking noises coming from the wetness of his finger and your cunt.

Slowly your expression of discomfort morphs into one of pleasure, aided by his thumb on your clit. Curving his finger, Coriolanus searches for that spot inside of you. He knows he's got it when you moan out his name and fall back on the bed, grabbing an old teddy bear from your bed and biting into it. You're dripping on his hand.

It's so much he debates on adding another finger. He has to be careful, though. You're so tight, and he wishes to reserve the thin barrier of your innocence for his cock to push through. There's no doubt it'll tear with the size of his cock.

A token of that much value should be taken properly and not in a flurry of lust. Girls like you have been taught to take care of it until the right man comes along and Coriolanus is confident you feel that way toward him.

God, his cock is so fucking hard. He must be leaking pre. Desperately, Coriolanus rolls his hips on your mattress to relieve some of the tension. This is your doing, and you're not aware of how much you're torturing him.

Coriolanus tries to push his pointer finger into your cunt, but it proves difficult, especially when you flinch away and grab his wrist to stop him.

"Stop, it hurts, Coriolanus," you cry and try to wiggle away. One finger is enough for you. It's far more than you could ever do on your own.

But Coriolanus doesn't like being told what to do, and he hates it, especially when people he considers close call him by his full name.

"I'm sorry, darling. I'll be gentle, but you have to let me if you ever want to take my cock," Coriolanus reminds you sweetly.

"Promise me," you say with a blush caused by his crude words. He's right. After today, you'll surely want him to go all the way with you, and neither will have the patience to go as slowly as today.

"I promise. Here, bend your legs. It should be better." Coriolanus arranges you in such a way were your pretty cunt is fully exposed to him, spreading to reveal your pink and tight opening. He kneels between your legs, rubbing your clit. "Remember to relax."

Coriolanus starts all over again, circling your pretty clit and fucking one finger into you. Once you close your eyes, losing yourself in the pleasure, he grabs hold of your thigh to keep you in place and pushes the tip of his second finger.

He ignores your complaints and rubs your clit more furiously, subduing your pain and replacing it with toe-curling pleasure. He thrusts shallowly until your cunt gives way for him to slip the two fingers entirely.

"Good girl, see, that wasn't so bad," he says in a slightly mocking tone you don't catch.

"Thank you, Coryo," you moan as your hand reaches to the one on your thigh.

Fuck, you sure know how to feed into his ego. He's heard that phrase so many times when he helps you with your homework. How will he keep his cock in his pants when you say that to him in the university library?

He fucks you steadily with his fingers adding a little force to make your tits jiggle. You hold onto the teddy bear, moaning softly. It's so easy to tell when you're about to cum like this. Your walls squeeze him so tightly he believes you'll push him out.

"You're going to cum, darling?" Coriolanus asks you, pulling you out of your bubble.

"Yes," you sob. This orgasm feels so different from your other ones. Like it comes from deep within. Maybe it's the penetration of Coriolanus's fingers, or perhaps it's just him doing all the work that does it for you.

"Let me hear you," he spits out as he curls his fingers more, hitting the spongy spot inside of you over and over again till the sound of your juices squelching echoes in the room.

"Coryo, Coryo, Coryo," you gasp, repeating his name with a cry and holding tightly onto his free hand.

He keeps fucking you through your orgasm, his fingers and hand wet with your cum. You nudge him with your foot when it's too much, your words jumbled in your tongue.

You lay limp on the bed, body flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat. Your hair sticks to your forehead, and your skirt is wrinkled and skewed on your midsection. You believe you look like an outright mess, but to Coriolanus, you couldn't look more perfect than in that moment.

As he removes his fingers from your fluttering hole, a string of cum stretches between his fingers and your cunt. Impulsively, he brings them up to his lips to taste you.

"Coryo, no, what?" You pipe up, embarrassed.

"Mmm," he hums in pleasure. He's on the verge is saying fuck it and fucking you tonight. You taste so divine he wants to get in between your pretty thighs to clean you all up, "Have you never tasted yourself?"

"No, I've never thought to," you murmur, scrunching your nose.

"You taste good," Coryo says, plunging his fingers into you again, making you whine from oversensitivity. "Try it."

Not giving you a choice, he presses his index and middle fingers to your lips. You part them slowly, dipping your head to take them into your mouth. The ring on Coriolanus's middle finger clicks against your teeth. You look at Coryo as you suck them, searching for his approval.

"Good, right?" He asks when he pulls his fingers back.

You shyly nod, surprised by your behavior. Your trust in Coryo is so immense that you don't question his actions. Anything he'd ask you would do.

Coriolanus smiles widely, cupping your face to kiss you. He's proud of you and of your progress today. He's happy to have someone to mold to his needs as well.

He's complacent at the moment, seeing you act shy, and he has no problem being delicate, either. Still, a part of him can't wait to have you in his grasp to properly bite and squeeze and spank to his desires. To have you teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure along with him.

"Coryo?" You call for him as he stands from the bed. You grab his hand, pulling him back down.

"Yes, darling? Is there something wrong?" Coriolanus questions, scanning your body for any discomfort.

"I want to…" You want to touch him. His hard-on is clearly visible on his red pants, and you would be a liar if you said you weren't curious as to how it looks.

"To what…" He wonders. You point down to his crotch, where you can make out the outline of his erection. "You want to suck my cock?"

"Yes, I want to make you feel good," you nod with your puppy dog eyes, and he has to will himself to say no. It's a difficult task when you're desperate to fall into his hands.

"My darling girl, don't worry about me. We'll get around to it another day. It's late," he softly chuckles, kissing your cheek. You've run out of time, soon your parents will be home. They probably don't want to find you being fucked by your boyfriend. "I promise you can help me next time, yeah?"

"Promise," you smile.

His eyes flicker to your lips to memorize them. He'll be sure to picture them tonight when he's fucking his fist. He thinks you'll be a good little cocksucker because of the way you eagerly sucked on his fingers earlier.

If not, he'll teach you.

Who knew he'd become a mentor of sorts once again.

*sips tea* thank you for reading! i really hope you liked it!

*starts choking on blood* damn it coriolanus, not again! before i go just know i'm working on ways to destress part 2! i will be back, this is not the end! *head thumps on the table*

#fanfiction #smut #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games fanfiction #coriolanus snow fanfiction

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just-wrting · 7 months

Text

Secret Admirer

Title: Secret Admirer

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: You've been trying to figure out who keeps leaving you little notes and gifts. Despite everyone else knowing, you keep denying the obvious answer.

Word Count: 1721

Master List

A/N: This will probably be the only thing I write for Reid. I'm not super into him but when the List Randomizer spat out secret admirer I weirdly thought of him. I plan on trying to write a bunch of different characters from a bunch of different fandoms. Just whoever pops into my head I guess. Two will probably be posted Friday.

You aren’t sure when you noticed it. Maybe it was the fact that your desk was always clean. Maybe it was the little extra things that started to appear. Slowly but surely, you realized you had someone who was leaving you gifts and notes. You had a secret admirer.

Despite your efforts, no one on the team would say anything. For several weeks, you pressed the issue with the other BAU members, yet no one cracked. In fact, you were teased about being unable to figure it out. How could a member of the BAU not figure out their mystery admirer?

“Come on Garcia! I know you know. You have to tell me,” you plead with the tech genius. “You’ve literally been avoiding me. I know you know.”

She lets out a squeak before running to the safety of her lair. Morgan is giving you a smirk and shaking his head. Despite your scowl, he chooses to tease you.

“Come on, (L/N), can’t you figure it out? Who could be this mystery man leaving you gifts and fancy letters?” He laughs as he pokes the latest gift, a small stuffed version of your favorite animal.

“Hey, leave my new son out of this. What did he ever do to you?” you grumble, pulling it closer to you. “I didn’t even realize someone remembered such a little detail.”

“Maybe that means it’s been a long time crush.”

At that moment, Reid sets his bag down and takes a seat at his desk. You think you see Morgan’s grin get wider, but it’s hard to tell given how wide his smile usually is. It’s a picture perfect smile.

“That’s a relatively cute stuffed animal. I’ve actually been reading up on that one recently if you’d like to know more,” he offers. “Only if you’re interested of course.”

Reid gives you his charming boyish smile. It goes well with demeanor and you can’t help but find it cute.

“As long as you’re willing to leave out the creepy facts. I don’t even remember telling anyone my favorite animal,” you say with a smile. “Who would remember such a little detail?”

Morgan chimes back in, “Maybe someone with a perfect memory. Like what the kid has.”

You sigh. “Reid seems to like highly intelligent women with PhDs. I may be smart, but I’m not smart enough.”

Before anyone can protest, Hotch calls you all to the conference room for a case. While you’re sure Reid is nice enough to help whoever has a crush on you, you doubt you’d be his type. Maybe Reid is the perfect person to question about the mystery man.

—-

“Reid, (L/N), you two stay here and look through the papers,” Hotch orders before leaving the precinct.

You frown. What’s the point of having you here? Reid can read faster than you can. It’s almost like you’re just here for moral support in case he gets tired.

“Well now I feel useless,” you groan. “What am I even supposed to do?”

Reid doesn’t look up as he speaks. “Maybe today you’re our mascot. After all, mascots are supposed to be cute.”

You roll your eyes and try not to laugh. “Not all mascots are cute. Recognizable is definitely more important than cute. Besides, am I really that cute?

“I meant to say that compared to Morgan, you’re cute.” Reid buries his head further into the papers.

You ponder for a moment. “Well, you’ve got some charm. Morgan has the charm of he’s good with women so that’s why he gets hit on. Hotch is mature and a leader so that’s why women are into him. You’re cute though. You’ve got this soft sort of shyness that makes you adorable.”

You don’t catch Reid’s reply. His face is completely hidden behind various files. Maybe he’s just embarrassed, given that he’s always been a bit bad with taking compliments. That doesn’t stop you from thinking that it’s adorable.

“Speaking of your charms. I like the fact that you’ve got a good memory. You wouldn’t happen to know who’s got a crush on me, would you?”

He doesn’t look up. “I can pass along a message if you’d like.”

“Well then, I suppose you should tell this guy to ask me out. I can say for certain that if he’s this considerate, that he’s already got my interest.”

“I’ll do that,” he mumbles before handing you a file. “Take a look at this. I think I’ve found what we’ve been missing.”

—-

You peer into the lecture hall. It took some convincing, but you have successfully dragged J.J. to one of Lewis’ classes. You gesture vaguely into the room.

“See! That’s what normal Reid is. Dorky jokes, random facts, and the rambling on for ages is what makes him Reid. That’s not what he’s like around me anymore,” you hiss.

She makes a face and shakes her head. “So you have a different Reid? I don’t think he’s been replaced (L/N). Maybe you’re thinking about it too hard.”

You scoff. “No I’m not. Reid just seems so nervous around me. Did I do something? He barely looks at me anymore.”

With a shrug, she leads you away. “Have you tried asking him?”

You toss your empty coffee cup in a trash can. Part of you wants to throw up your hands and be done. Why is everyone treating this like it’s normal? No one is giving you any answers.

“Of course I have J.J. It would be weirder if I hadn’t. He clearly knows something about this secret admirer of mine, but won’t tell.”

J.J. pats your arm comfortingly. “Maybe it’s because he’s your secret admirer. Perhaps you need to ask him out.”

“Yeah sure. I’ll ask him out once I have the evidence that he’s the person leaving me these gifts.”

J.J. raises her eyebrows as she drinks from her coffee. Her face says she has other thoughts, but she won’t press the matter further. Your gut tells you to trust her, but you’d rather not make a fool of yourself. Sure, she knows Reid better than you do, but Reid can be difficult to read.

—-

After reading the latest note, you search your desk for your stapler. You’ve been stapling the date and time to each note before tucking it in your desk. However, it’s missing.

You let out a groan. This isn’t the first time it’s been in the wrong spot, and you’re sick of it. You opt to beg Garcia to look at the camera footage to see who’s been using it.

“Hey Garcia? Can you please pull up the footage of my desk this morning? Someone’s been using my stapler, and today they stole it,” you grumble with a scowl. “Whoever took it is going to get some very strong words.”

As she speeds through the footage, you watch the people who got there before you. At first, you see Reid pause at your desk and fiddle with something. You note that he’s the only person in the office at the time, but after he pulls away, you see your stapler still on the desk.

The next person to stop at your desk is Morgan. He pulls your stapler off your desk and staples his paperwork together as he heads to Hotch’s office. He never sets it back on your desk.

“Garcia? Can you please get my stapler from that idiot?”

She laughs. “Has he been using your stapler this whole time? He said there wasn’t any more in the supply room.”

You shake your head. “You like him so much, you can retrieve my stolen goods from him.”

Garcia nods. “I’m on it. You can count on me.”

You leave her to her planning. You don’t comment on the fact that Reid had been at your desk. If you ask her about it, she’ll just leave you alone to go get your stapler. This is enough evidence for you though. It’s time to confront Reid.

Thankfully, he’s made his way to the conference room to look for something. You sneak in behind him and stand between him and the door.

“So, what did you need from my desk this morning?”

You watch him jump and spin around. He looks shocked, but quickly covers it up.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, (L/N).”

You frown. “I found out my stapler was missing. Garcia showed me the footage and before it went missing, you were at my desk. What did you do?”

Reid opens and closes his mouth a few times. He doesn’t look at you. His hands keep fiddling with whatever he’s holding.

“Forget about it, I’m sure there was just some trash leftover that you cleaned up.”

He swallows hard. “Yeah. I didn’t want you to have to worry about it.”

You give him a smile. “Thanks. Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something else. The others seem to think I’m just talking myself out of it, but I think I can't put it off any longer.”

You make your way towards him, your smile still plastered on your face. You can tell he’s even more nervous now.

“Reid, are you my secret admirer?”

This time, Reid looks you in the eyes. You hear his breath hitch in his throat.

“What if I am?”

You’re a bit taken aback. Despite the determination you had walking into this, you aren’t sure what to say.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Your voice is a whisper now. It feels like some sort of dream. It’s almost like if you talk too loud, this whole thing will shatter and you’ll be left in pieces.

“I didn’t think you’d like me back. Your type just didn’t seem to include me.”

Reid hesitantly pushes a strand of hair out of your face.

“You’re more my type than you realize.”

“Then do you want to get dinner tonight?”

Now you’re the one who's acting nervous. Your palms are sweaty. It’s more difficult to breathe. You can’t help but bite your lip.

“I’d like that. If you’re willing to get dinner with me.”

Reid leans down, and gives you a quick kiss. It barely lasts a second, but you can feel your skin heat up. When he pulls away, he stays close.

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

#reader insert #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic

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clockwayswrites · 7 months

Text

Not Exactly Cinderella Part 2

Part 1

WC: 818

“You have a thing for black hair and blue eyes, huh?” Dick teased, looking at the guy that Wally had pointed out. He laughed as Wally slapped his shoulder for the comment. “What? I’m not complaining. And you’re right, he does have a cute smile.”

Wally just blushed again.

“Well, come on, I think that most of my official duties are done. Let’s go see what he’s like,” Dick said, heading back towards the stairs.

“What if he’s a jerk?” Wally asked.

“Then we just move on and go find someone else to talk to,” Dick answered easily. “This isn’t a mission or anything, Walls, if you don’t click you don’t click. You can think his smile is cute and not want to do anything with him.”

Wally sighed, though, rather than being comforted by that.“You keep talking like he’ll want to do something with me.”

Dick stopped them at the bottom of the stairs, tugging them to the side. He knew he probably looked a little worried, but he couldn’t help it. No, of course he could fake it, he was a damn Bat, but he didn’t want to. Wally deserved to know that he was bothered by this. If Dick had known that Wally was having these self esteem issues, he would have done something earlier.

Wally deserved to know how amazing he was.

“If he doesn’t want you, it will because he’s straight or not into quick romance or doing something physical,” Dick said. “Or because he’s insane and doesn’t like red heads. Never trust someone who doesn’t like red heads.”

Wally rolled his eyes but he looked more relaxed. “Just because you have a thing for red heads…”

“Walls, sweetheart, you’re amazing. You’re smart and funny and fun. And you’re pretty damn hot too between the red hair and adorable freckles and your runner’s body. If he’s not into you there could be reasons for it, but it’s not because you aren’t an amazing catch.”

Wally let out a breath of air and nodded. “Okay. Sure. I mean, I don’t agree but sure. Let’s go talk to him.”

“Great!” Dick said with a grin. He took Wally’s hand but dropped it as they got closer to their target. The guy must have taken a break from his last discussion and was over to the side with a fresh drink in hand. Dick detoured them briefly to get drinks also; it was important for everyone to feel like they were on the same social page. They settled near the other as if taking a break from the crowd themselves.

“Enjoying the evening?” Dick asked, drawing the strangers blue eyes to them.

Oh, fuck, more adorable freckles.

“You know, I actually am,” he said, seeming surprised by that. As an after thought he held out his hand. “Oh, sorry, I’m Danny.”

Not a socialite if he was leaving off the last name. That was a positive.

“Dick,” he said, shaking the offered hand before backing off. “And this is Wally.”

“Nice to meet you,” Danny said, as he shook Wally’s hand. “You two having a good night?”

“Mostly. We’re finally where we can relax and talk to who we want to, which is nice. Wally here always has to track down the other scientists at these things,” Dick answered for them, pleased when Danny perked up at that.

“Are you scientist?” Danny asked

“Chemist, mostly material sciences but some organic too,” Wally said with a slightly bashful little smile. “You?”

“Bimolecular and biomedical engineering,” Danny said.

At least Dick would have an easy excuse to duck out when the conversation got too technical for him.

“Did they do the same thing with you and keep trying to make you pick one?”

Danny laughed and gave a little shrug. Dick could tell Wally almost swooned at the sound— not that Dick could blame Wally, Danny had a really nice laugh and the crooked smile was downright precious.

“Totally. I though that two of them were going to get in a fist fight over me at one point! Which I suppose at least would have been hilarious. I’ve won so far, but it’s going to be hard to pick a doctorate when I get there.”

“Oh man, good luck. I got my masters last year and stopped for now. Want to get some work experience, you know?” Wally asked. “But it sounds like you’ll kick ass whatever you choose. Where are you going to school right now? Gotham doesn’t really do much of that, right?”

“U Penn,” Danny said. “I’m close enough location wise that my godfather called in a favor for me to be his plus one for this event, but it really hasn’t been that bad so far.

“Who’s your godfather?” Dick asked curiously.

Danny smiled that crooked smile again. “Vlad Masters.”

Dick couldn’t help the way his nose wrinkled at that.

Danny just laughed.

AN: Just a little bit of Dick's POV! And oh no, Dick thinks Danny is cute too! Whatever will we do...

Wanted to write more of this, but *waves hand at everything*. But this brings us to the end of the 'new schedule'! It was fun to do but I certainly won't be doing it every week. It's back to just trauma Tuesday for now! Stay delightful, darlings.

#dp x dc #Danny/Dick/Wally #rocket fuel #quick death #death defying #not exactly cinderella

727 notes · View notes

onlymingyus · 6 months

Text

Falling for U: Seokmin

pairing; lee seokmin (dk) x f reader (best friend!seungcheol)

genre; fluff, angst, smut (minors dni)

warnings; eating/drinking, dogs (reader is not allergic to dogs), reader is smaller than seokmin, feelings of self deprecation/not feeling good enough, talk about loneliness, smut warnings -- heaving pettings, grinding, fingering/teasing, dirty talk, cumming in pants

w/c; 7.6k and some change

bout you master list

a/n; thank you to @playmetheclassics @wonwussy @onlyseokmins @junkissed-replies for beta reading this -- i have decided to release this one in parts

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

“Do you think there is something wrong with me?”

Seungcheol had just put a Twizzler in his mouth when you spoke, flopping yourself down on your sofa dramatically. Your head now resting against the arm of the chair, Seungcheol watches you as he chews on the cherry candy, raising a brow before shaking his head.

“In what way? Like in the way you are being annoyingly dramatic and cryptic right now, or…?��

Shooting a dirty look at your best friend, you reach over to swipe one of his Twizzlers as you speak. “As in why I am still single, but maybe those are the reasons.”

For all your faults, Seungcheol couldn’t help but smile at your words, shaking his head as he watched you gnaw almost sadly on the candy between your lips. Sighing softly, he moves from the chair across from you to smack at your arm so you will sit up, letting him sit with you. Patting his lap, Seungcheol lets you rest your head back down on his legs as he leans his head back and to the side on the back of the sofa so he can look down at you while he speaks softly.

“You are single because you choose to be. Maybe not consciously, but you work too fucking hard and too much. You don’t make yourself available to many people, so how are they supposed to know how amazing you are?”

Scoffing, you bite off a piece of the Twizzler in your hand, almost angrily, at Seungcheol’s words before pouting at him. You knew he was right about most of what he had said. You weren’t so sure about “how amazing” you were, but it was kind of him to say.

“You are literally contractually obligated to be nice to me as my best friend, Choi Seungcheol. You have to say all these things to make me feel better about myself, and as grateful as I am, it doesn’t help my situation. If I’m honest, I’m lonely.”

A sigh falls from your lips once again, Seungcheol’s hand moving over the top of your head as he furrows his brows in thought. He hated that you felt lonely; he knew that you hadn’t meant that against him, but it still stung a little bit.

Chewing on his lip, Seungcheol watches you for a moment before speaking, “Y/N, I know some people. Some good guys... if you’d be interested in meeting some of them? I could maybe, like, set up some blind dates?”

Your brows furrow at Seungcheol’s words. While you didn't mind meeting some of his friends, he had always been protective of you. Before he could even speak with you, he told his friend Mingyu that you were out of his league. What was different about these men?

“Uh, what? Who are they? You never want me to date any of your friends, Cheol. You treat me like your little sister that they are gonna defile.”

With his nose wrinkling at the idea, Seungcheol sighs, leaning his head back against the sofa. “Maybe I’m just... listen, alright? You said you were lonely. I want you to be happy, and this is different than meeting some of my dumbass friends at a party. The guys I have in mind are all—okay, let me backtrack; they, for the most part, have good heads on their shoulders. Do you know what I’m saying? They have jobs, they are smart, and I’ve never seen them mistreat anyone. Like I said, they are good guys. Maybe one of them could be, I don’t know... your Mr. Right?”

Mr. Right. That makes your stomach do a flip. Your lips pull up in a smile before you can’t help but laugh, causing Seungcheol to do the same. “You are such an idiot. I don’t know if I believe in Mr. Right, but I…fuck it. Fine, you said guys, plural, so how many are we talking about, and do I at least get to know the names of the guys you are thinking of?”

Seungcheol grins a bit at your curiosity, his teeth catching his bottom lip like a cat who caught a canary as he decides how much information to give you. With a small exhale, your best friend purses his lips and shrugs.

“There are five guys I have in mind. That should give you plenty of options. At least one of them has to be less of a fuckup than the others by statistical standards. But as for their names, no. I think we will keep it completely blind. I’ll let you know their name before your date.”

You watch Seungcheol shift a bit, a look of pride washing over his face as he considers his plan and how smart he feels at coming up with it. You can’t help but roll your eyes at his internal preening, eliciting a laugh from the man when he notices the look on your face.

“It’ll be fun, Y/N. You need some fun and some spontaneity. I know you better than anyone. I promise that at least you will have a good evening with a nice guy.” Seungcheol takes a quick pause, letting out a small gruff sound and tilting his head in thought before following his words with, “Or I’ll kill him if he hurts you. Either way, it will be fun.”

Seokmin

Cheollie: Lee Seokmin

Y/N: Who is that? Am I supposed to know him?

Cheollie: Your first date. He wants to take you out on Saturday at 4 p.m. He will pick you up.

Y/N: So soon? What sort of date? Is he cute? What is he like? What do I wear? Omg, Cheol…

Cheollie: 🙄 He’s attractive for one of my friends; I wouldn’t set you up with an ugly dude. What do you take me for? Dress in something cute but casual. That’s all you get. It’s a blind date, Dingus. Love you.

Y/N: I hate you. 💖

You had done your best to try to find every Lee Seokmin in your local area, but there were just too many to narrow down which man would be showing up at your doorstep in just a few minutes. So, instead of staring at your phone any longer, you decided to move back to fussing about your hair and outfit.

Seungcheol had said casual but cute, but now you were looking into the mirror, wondering if this was too casual. What if Seungcheol’s version of casual was different than Seokmin’s? This was the worst idea you had ever agreed to. With your phone in your hand, just as you were about to call Seungcheol to tell him to cancel on Seokmin, you heard the sound of your doorbell.

“Fuck…”

It was too late; one more glance at your phone told you it was 4:05. Seokmin was pretty prompt; you could appreciate that. Shoving your phone into your purse, you swallow hard, forcing your feet to move you toward your front door to pull it open.

You weren’t sure what you had expected; you had looked at so many social media profiles, including his, but when Lee Seokmin smiled at you from your front door, your chest tightened. His smile was like sunshine, making you instantly feel warm—something like a hug, even though he was a few feet away and hadn’t yet spoken.

“Y/N? I’m Seokmin…”

Extending his hand, Seokmin bites at the inside of his bottom lip, hoping he wasn't at the wrong door. You were stunning, and he almost hated the idea that you wouldn’t be the girl he was going on a date with. You had already taken his breath away. Seungcheol had told him a little bit about you so he could have a bit of a head start, but one look at you and Seokmin’s brain was doing circles like an excited puppy.

“Hi, yes. It’s really nice to meet you.”

When your fingers slide over Seokmin's, you can’t help the way your breath catches in your throat. The instant feeling of electricity his skin sends through you makes you shiver slightly, causing Seokmin to tilt his head curiously. A laugh slips from your lips when you take your hand back, your lip caught between your teeth, feeling shy under his gaze.

“I’ll just grab a sweater, and we can go. I literally know nothing about what we are doing. Seungcheol refused to tell me anything.” You put on your best Seungcheol impression, making Seokmin laugh as he watches you from your door while you pick up a sweater. “It’s a blind date, Y/N.”

“I don’t know much myself; he only told me enough that I knew I really wanted to meet you. He is very…protective of you, but I can understand why, I think. If you are ready, I thought we could go to a cafe that I love.”

You feel your cheeks burn at Seokmin’s words, “I can understand why”. Shaking your head to yourself, you laugh before meeting his gaze with a small nod, turning to close, and locking your door so you can walk beside him towards the sidewalk and his waiting car when Seokmin stops and reaches up to scratch the side of his head.

“I…you know I should have asked Seungcheol, but I am a bit scatterbrained sometimes, and I can pick somewhere else if need be, but um, are you allergic to dogs?”

Stopping as he does, you look up at Seokmin, tilting your head, only to laugh at his question. Your pretty smile makes Seokmin feel like he is floating over the ground as he stands beside you. He had only met you, but when the wind blows through your hair, causing a piece of it to move across your cheek, he can’t help but feel the urge to reach up and push it behind your ear. Instead, he keeps his hands to himself and simply smiles at you, waiting for your answer.

“No, I’m not allergic; I love dogs. Wait, are we going to a dog cafe? Oh my god, Seokmin! I haven’t been to a dog cafe in like... years.”

Your sudden excitement makes Seokmin’s chest tighten; he has to will his feet to move once again, so you will follow him to his car. He simply laughs softly, pulling open the passenger side door for you and letting you slip into the seat before he winks at you sweetly.

“Guess you will just have to wait and see.”

No amount of prodding would get Seokmin to reveal his secrets. You had to commend him for that. By the time he pulled his car into the small parking lot, you felt almost completely at ease in his presence despite the short amount of time you had spent with him. The conversation had come easy, and his smile was intoxicating and infectious. You could see why Seungcheol had chosen him as a friend and as a date for you.

Leaning forward to look at the sign, you squeal softly, making Seokmin grin into a small, subdued laugh. He couldn’t help but be enamored by you already. The two of you had only discussed the basics, jobs, and brief family things, but the way you spoke to him made him want to be close to you. It was like you were water, and he had been wandering for days looking for you.

“I didn’t even know they had a dog cafe on this side of town. I guess I don’t get over here often. Oh my god, Seokmin... Look at that baby. I want to hug them.”

Seokmin follows your gestured hand to a small lab-looking dog lying in a chair near a corner of a window. The dog had perked up the moment his car had pulled in.

“That’s a beautiful dog. You have great taste, Y/N. We can go say hi, but let’s get something to eat first.”

You knew those were the general rules for these sorts of cafes, but having him pull you back to reality was helpful. Joining Seokmin at the front of the car, you pull your sweater around yourself to guard your skin against the spring air, making him smile at you. His hand is closest to you, hovering near your back as he leans to open the door to the cafe with the other.

“Thank you, sir.”

Seokmin swallows slightly into a laugh at your words, letting you go in first before following you. Glancing up at the signs, he can’t help but smile at the pictures of the dogs, finding the one you had found in the chair.

“Y/N, there is your buddy. Looks like her name is Riley. Come on…”

You whisper the name Riley, a tiny excited sound under your breath, moving to follow Seokmin into the somewhat crowded cafe section of the building. It's only when someone pushes past you, muttering a quick apology, that you find your hands wrapped around his forearm to keep you close to him.

“Sorry…”

Your quiet word causes Seokmin to glance down at you, a smile on his face as he shakes his head, leaning towards you briefly to speak before leading you towards the counter. “It’s okay; I really don’t mind.”

Your cheeks burn lightly, but you keep your hand where it is, enjoying the warm feeling of his arm under your touch. It had been so long since you had felt this giddy, almost schoolgirl crush feeling that caused your brain to go fuzzy when you looked at Seokmin.

Glancing over the bakery and drink options, Seokmin purses his lips, nodding to the boy behind the counter before looking back at you, only to find you still looking at him. A small laugh slips from the man’s lips, only to be bitten back when his teeth catch his bottom lip, so he can calm himself before speaking. He found himself so nervous and excited about getting your attention; feeling your fingers lightly picking at the material of his sweater only made it harder for him to focus.

“Do you see anything you like?”

That was a question laced with double meaning—if you had ever heard one, whether or not Seokmin had meant it that way or not. You can’t help but smile, glancing away with a smile and clearing your throat to look at the menu.

“Uh, so much, honestly. Could I get a mocha latte? Oh, these chocolate muffins look good, but I couldn’t finish that by myself.”

Seokmin’s face felt like he was going to overheat at your words about seeing so much that you liked. He had said it before; he had considered the possible double meaning, but your answer had really knocked him back. It’s only when you mention something you want and are unable to finish it alone that Seokmin is brought back to the present.

“Then we can share it, and I’ll get an iced Americano.”

Sliding into a seat, you watch Seokmin lean his shoulder against the wall, his tall frame drawing your eye from his head to his toes, causing you to let out a small sigh until he moves, hearing his name called for the order that was placed. A shy smile takes over your lips, drawing your eyes away from him to allow yourself a steady breath. You hadn’t been sure how you’d feel about dating, especially in this sort of scenario, but so far, you weren’t complaining.

“One mocha latte, which smells delicious, by the way, and our chocolate muffin.”

Seokmin’s words pull your gaze upward once again as he takes a seat across from you at the small table. His infectious smile spreads to your face as he leans to place his forearm on the table, picks up his drink, and takes a sip.

“It does smell good. Is your Americano good?”

Nodding, Seokmin tilts his head, looking at the drink as if he were appraising it. “It’s alright. I have friends who make better ones, but that isn’t really the draw of this place. I just hope you enjoy yours. I’m not sure even a cute dog could make up for a bad date.”

Laughing, you bring your latte to your lips, take a sip, and let the warm drink slip down your throat, causing your chest and stomach to feel instantly just as warm as the cup in your grasp.

“Mmm, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. The drink is good, but the date is going incredibly well so far, Seokmin. It’s not often that I can say that a cute guy took me on a date to see cute dogs for a date. Pretty unique.”

Seokmin bites at his bottom lip, a quiet laugh barely audible, while his fingers peel at the liner wrapped around the muffin sitting between the two of you on the table.

“There were a lot of compliments in that statement, Y/N. I would say I’m immune to flattery, but that’d be a lie. I have to be honest with you, though; I don’t know how I got this honor. From what I have learned about you so far, what Cheol told me, and as beautiful as you are.”

His voice trailing off, you find yourself unable to hold back your own laugh, knowing where he is going with the conversation. Shaking your head, you simply smile, taking a piece of the muffin when Seokmin offers it to you before speaking.

“I’m not some great catch, Seokmin. We talked about work, which coincidentally is the reason my best friend is setting up blind dates for me. I don’t want to give anyone the wrong impression of me. I am looking for something… I don’t know what it is, but I’m tired of being lonely. They didn’t give us a handbook on how to be an adult, and if they did, I doubt they would have included ‘you are going to be lonely often’ inside of it.”

Seokmin finds himself frowning slightly. He hated that you felt lonely. It wasn’t that he didn’t also share that feeling. He understood exactly where you were coming from. Friendships were great; they filled a void to a certain point, but they could only go so far.

“No, you’re right. I doubt they’d even want that in the fine print, but I think you are selling yourself a bit short. The reasons that you seem to think that you aren’t a “great catch” make you who you are. They make you unique, and I’ll be honest, they make you one hell of a catch.”

You weren’t even sure what to say. Instead, you just smile, taking another sip of your latte. Seokmin grins, breaking off a bite of the muffin to bring it to his lips and taking a bite of the chocolate as he watches you process his words. Both of you find yourselves sharing lowered glances and shy smiles for a moment until Seokmin finally breaks the tension, offering you a piece of the muffin.

“It was a really good choice. It has chocolate chips, too, so it’s a bit rich. Sharing was smart.”

Taking the piece of muffin from his fingers, you bite at your cheek when your skin brushes over his, causing electricity to pass between the two of you once again.

“Thank you. I have my moments. Be sure to pass that along to our dear friend Cheol. I think he thinks I’m an idiot.”

Seokmin grins before shaking his head. You watch him bring his fingers to his lips to suck a bit of melted chocolate from the tips of them. Furrowing your brows, you can’t help the way it causes you to swallow hard and stare even as he speaks.

“You know?”

Raising a brow, you shake your head and watch Seokmin smile at you, his head tilting almost like a curious puppy because you clearly weren’t listening to what he had said.

“I’m so sorry. What did you say, Seokmin?”

Biting the center of his bottom lip, Seokmin lets the skin drag through his teeth, an amused look on his face, before he leans back in his chair. Seokmin’s eyes take you in a bit more as he takes in a deep breath, speaking once again.

“Oh, I was just saying... Seungcheol has nothing but nice things to say about you. He would never call you an idiot. Where did that pretty little mind go before, Y/N?”

Your cheeks burn slightly at the question, causing you to laugh out of nerves. You pick up your cup, taking a sip of the drink, shrugging only to look toward where you could hear the sounds of barking in the distance.

"Just, uh, you know, thinking about the dogs.”

Seokmin’s head tilts in the other direction as if he knows you aren’t being truthful with him, but he isn’t going to press the subject. Instead, he smiles at you softly and nods, leaning to collect the muffin wrapper and his empty cup.

“Mm, then we should get you to them so you can meet Riley. If you are done with your drink?”

Nodding, you stand to join him, letting him take your cup so he can put them in their proper place along with the trash. You are thankful for the brief moment so you can regain your senses, but it is short-lived when you feel his warm hand at the small of your back guiding you toward the area where you could go see the dogs.

“Okay, so we can choose a locker and leave our sweaters and stuff here. They don’t want us to bring in any outside food. There are treats and stuff inside; otherwise, we can go in after we wash our hands.”

You find yourself smiling at Seokmin as you watch him shed his sweater, bundling it into a locker, before he looks towards you, offering his hand for yours.

“You come here a lot, don’t you, Seokmin?”

A smile spreads across his features as he takes your sweater in his hands, folding it before adding it to the locker and closing it with a small click.

“Uh, yeah. I know it might be lame, but I can’t have animals in my apartment, but I really like dogs. So this is the best way to kind of have the best of both worlds, you know?”

Moving with him towards the sink, you smiled at Seokmin’s explanation. There was nothing lame about it. Offering him your hands, you let him put some liquid soap into your palms before putting them under the warm water, taking turns washing your hands.

“I think it’s sweet and the farthest thing from lame. It’s a good way to see the dogs; I mean, all of them are up for adoption, so you are doing something so good for these dogs by visiting. They are getting to meet someone so kind who is teaching them how to find a human. I love that so much.”

Taking the paper towel from him, you smile at Seokmin as he looks down at you shyly. His stature is still so tall but so gentle, making you feel safe.

“I really thought you might think this was the worst date you had ever been on."

When you laugh, Seokmin can’t help but smile even brighter, letting you take his hand and pulling him towards the door so the two of you can finally make your way into the room.

“Well, you thought wrong. This is already one of the best dates I have ever had the pleasure to be on.”

You don’t have much time to glance around the space once the doors are shut behind you before you feel paws on your legs, drawing your attention down. Seokmin watches, feeling your hand drop from his as you lean down to coo at a small, older dog who had jumped up on your legs.

With gray on his face and along his back, you find yourself surprised that this was the first dog up to greet you. Turning the dog's collar, you read the name Bailey on the tag as you scratch softly behind his ears, glancing up to look at Seokmin.

“His name is Bailey. Oh my god, I love him. Come say hi."

Seokmin grins, his head shaking at how quickly he is falling for you. You had his chest feeling tight and warm. His heart was beating so quickly as he watched you lean your face down to allow this dog to lick at the tip of your nose.

“He likes you.”

Your bottom lip got caught between your teeth as you laughed. You pat Bailey’s side before the dog decides to waddle over to Seokmin to get attention from the larger man.

“And you.”

With his fingers running through Bailey’s soft fur, Seokmin meets your eyes, only to feel his heart pick up in speed once again at how you are looking at him. He would give anything to have you look at him like that every day, possibly for the rest of his life. There was warmth in your eyes. It was as if he could picture the next 10 years with you in a single second and not even feel guilty about it.

Clearing his throat, Seokmin smiles as he watches Bailey run off to another person making their way into the room before he offers his hand to you as he stands.

“Let’s go find Riley, huh?”

You laugh quietly and nod, allowing the handsome man to lead you through the room until you find who you had been most excited about seeing. The small lab-mix dog perks up when you move into the room where she is lying. Her tail wags quickly, though she doesn’t make any quick movements.

“Riley, hi, baby. You are so pretty… Oh, my god.”

Hearing you speak to her, the dog lifts her head and tilts it, much like you had watched Seokmin do while eating the muffin not an hour before. You laugh, moving to sit in front of the chair she had chosen, allowing her to climb down as she curiously looks from you to Seokmin before deciding she wants to lay down between the two of you, laying her head down in your lap and her body across his legs.

“Wow…I–I didn’t expect that.”

You shake your head at Seokmin’s words, your hand running over the dog’s head and face softly as she closes her eyes, quietly breathing against your leg. You find yourself feeling a bit sad that she isn’t your dog, causing Seokmin to notice your frown.

“Y/N, you okay?”

Seokmin watches you glance up at him, a smile quickly replacing your frown as you try to come up with words. His hand slid along Riley’s side to take your hand, holding your fingers and comforting you.

“Oh yeah… I just have never had a dog act like this with me before.” You laugh and gesture with your free hand toward her and him. “Or a guy, honestly.”

Seokmin smiles gently, his thumb caressing your palm as Riley takes in a breath shift to get more comfortable as she drifts off in your lab.

“I can’t speak to the dog, but as for the guy, it's how you should be treated. I’m not doing anything special. I’m just being myself. I just–fuck…I like you so…you know.”

You laugh quietly, your finger running along the ridge of Riley’s nose as you look down from Seokmin’s eyes, shyly making him use his free hand to lift your chin carefully.

“We can come back and visit Riley. If you like her this much... and your apartment allows dogs, then maybe…”

Seokmin trails off his question, but you nod in understanding, finding yourself afraid that she will be adopted before you can make your way back. You didn’t want to rush any decisions, which included Seokmin, even though you also found yourself having to admit that you liked him very much.

“Yeah, maybe, but I would like to come back and visit.”

With his thumb running along your jaw, Seokmin nods. You watch a small smile cross his lips before his hand finally drops from your face, letting you have some of your personal space back, though he doesn’t want to stop touching you.

“Anytime, that’s if you want me to tag along.”

It was your turn to smile, your brows furrowing at how shy Seokmin in front of you seemed to get when he tried to be subtle in asking you out again.

“I’d really like that, Seokmin.”

Grinning, Seokmin drops his eyes towards Riley, though your eyes stay on him and the way he seems to try to collect himself at your response. Biting your lip, you reach out to tilt his chin back up this time. Your thumb slides along his jaw as Seokmin watches you with warm, curious eyes before you lean in to gently press your lips against his.

His breath hitching in his throat, Seokmin’s eyes close as his fingers find your wrist even as you pull away, making it clear it was just a simple chaste kiss. He wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve it, but it made him want another. You watch his Adam's apple rise and fall with a hard swallow before Seokmin laughs under his breath, finally opening his eyes to search for yours as he speaks.

“You have a way of surprising a guy. What did I do to deserve that?”

Smiling at his words, you relish in the feeling of his thumb rubbing in a gentle circle against the inside of your wrist as the man in front of you looks at you as if you hung the moon and the stars in the sky.

“Everything and nothing. This has been a wonderful date, Seokmin. I don’t want it to end.”

Catching his bottom lip between his teeth, Seokmin considers your words carefully before nodding. You watch his tongue gently swipe over his lips before the feeling of Riley shifting on your lap causes you to look away from Seokmin and towards the dog as she moves to lay on the floor.

“Maybe…if you want—I mean, since you don’t want the date to end, it doesn’t have to?”

Running your fingers over Riley’s head, you laugh at Seokmin’s words and how he talks in a circle to get to his point before looking back at him and seeing the hopeful look on his face. When you nod, his smile causes your chest to tighten. Seokmin’s smile only seems to brighten as he shifts to his knees and then his feet before he offers you his hands to help you to your feet beside him.

Soft whispered goodbyes and promises to visit again are made to Riley before you and Seokmin make your way back to the lockers to collect your belongings and find yourselves back in his car, heading towards his apartment. Seokmin’s fingers dance along the gearshift as his eyes move from the road to your hand resting on your lap until you smile into a gentle laugh, reaching to take his hand for yourself, causing him to let out a soft, relieved sound.

“You don’t have to be so careful with me, Seokmin. If I don’t like something, I’ll let you know. But you can hold my hand…I think it’s clear that I like you. I mean, I like you a lot.”

Feeling his cheeks heating up at your words, Seokmin tightens his grip on your hand, glancing over at you before looking back at the road, trying to make sure he kept you both safe. Either you had no idea what effect you had on him or you were so aware that you were seeing how he would react. Seokmin’s mind was spinning already.

"God, I like you a lot too. Like a lot. You are gorgeous, funny, and smart. I was a goner the moment I met you.”

A hopeless romantic. If you had to describe Lee Seokmin, those are the words you would use for him already. He made your stomach erupt with butterflies and your heart beat faster with just his words. He wasn’t the only goner. Smiling, you press your lips together to stop yourself from smiling too much as he pulls his car into a parking spot, taking his hand from you to put the car into park.

Shyly meeting your eyes, Seokmin laughs the moment you tilt your head at him. Your pretty smile catches him off guard as you sense his apprehension. Seokmin watches as you lift your hand, quirking your index finger back towards you in a come hither motion. You can’t help but laugh softly as he lets out another breathless laugh, leaning towards you to meet you halfway over the center console. He only falls silent when your lips once again find his in a gentle kiss that erases his nerves.

With your fingers sliding along his jaw, you smile against Seokmin’s lips, pulling away only enough to speak against them, feeling him chase you ever so slightly.

“Might not mean much right now, but it’s just me. You talked me up a lot but I’m just me… Are you gonna take me to your apartment, or are we just going to make out in your car like a couple of teenagers?”

You feel Seokmin’s lips pull up slightly against your lips as you press a soft kiss on them once again. A quiet hum of appreciation slips from between them before he furrows his brows and forces himself to pull away from you.

“Trust me… You are tempting me to get into the back seat, and I haven’t done that in years. But yes, let me get you upstairs. Get you something to drink and sit somewhere comfortable.”

Laughing under your breath, you watch Seokmin turn off the car and slide from the driver's seat before making his way around to you, opening your door, and offering you his hand. Sliding your fingers between his, you watch out of the corner of your eyes as a smile once again pulls up at his lips as he tightens his grip on your hand, walking beside you into the building and up the stairs.

Opening the door, Seokmin takes a step to the side, letting you move inside first as he reaches to turn on the lights, allowing you to look around. He watches as your smile widens, your feet carrying you through the hallway to the living room, where you were already looking at pictures on the wall.

“Make yourself at home. You want that drink? I have soda, water, or beer…wine?”

Hearing the soft laugh in his voice, you can’t help but smile as you turn back towards Seokmin after looking at a few of the pictures of Seokmin and his family and friends. He looked happy and loved. Weighing your options, you purse your lips and tilt your head before finding your way to his sofa, sitting down with a small audible breath before answering.

“A beer sounds nice, actually.”

Grinning, Seokmin nods, turning on his heels towards his kitchen and pointing with his left hand to signify where he was going.

“One beer coming up.”

When you laugh at his antics, Seokmin can’t help but feel his heart beat a bit quicker as he grabs two beers from his fridge. Taking a steady breath, he mutters to himself to chill before returning to the living room and offering you the beer once he’s removed the top.

Letting your fingers slide over his purposefully, you smile as you bring the beer to your lips, tilting it back to take a sip as Seokmin finally takes a seat near you. You can’t help but let your smile morph into a bit of a smirk when you notice he hadn’t sat as close as you had wanted, his nerves once again getting the better of him.

Clearing his throat, Seokmin takes a long drink of his own beer before placing the bottle on the coffee table and glancing down at his hands as if searching for something to say. Opening and closing his mouth twice, you watch the man smile before shaking his head and finally looking up at you with an embarrassed look on his face.

“It’s been a really long time since I’ve had someone back at my place. I promise I am not usually this awkward—okay, that’s a lie, but I’m less awkward once you get to know me. I’m just scared to screw this up.”

Laughing against the lip of the beer bottle, you take one more sip before placing your bottle on the table with Seokmin’s. His eyes fixed on you. You watch his lips press together before once again lifting into a smile when you slide closer to him, reaching for his hand once again, breaking the awkward tension.

“I told you, I’m just me. We were doing so well in the car. Hell, you said you even wanted to get in the back seat. You don’t want that any more? Did the walk upstairs get rid of all the teenage whimsy?”

Seokmin laughs and shakes his head at your words. You watch his brows lift as he takes a deep breath, shifting on the sofa, his fingers sliding along your palm.

“No, not at all. I just—”

“Don’t wanna screw up?”

Laughing again, Seokmin meets your eyes as you finish his sentence. He watches as you once again move on the sofa, testing the waters in your own way as you lift your free hand to brush it against his jaw. You normally didn’t move quickly with dates, but you weren’t willing to end this one without just a taste.

Leaning into your touch, Seokmin tries to stifle the groan that rises in his throat when your nails run down the side of his neck, but you smile, letting him know you still heard it. Letting go of his hand, you shift once again on the sofa, moving to your knees next to Seokmin so that your lips can brush against his with ease.

Seokmin’s hand hovers over your hip, his fingers flexing as he has a mental battle with himself about whether or not it would be okay to touch you as he meets your lips halfway. But when you whine against his lips, Seokmin’s brows furrow and he can’t help himself anymore. Fingers hold tightly over your clothes, pulling you towards him as the kiss deepens with need.

Parting your lips for Seokmin’s tongue to glide along yours, you find yourself quickly giving into your urges with him. Sliding your leg over his, you sit in his lap, granting yourself a groan from Seokmin’s chest. He was trying hard not to let himself get too aroused, but the feeling of your warmth sliding over his was making it impossible.

“Fuck—”

The single word slipping from Seokmin’s lips against yours as you roll your hips down over his causes you to grip his shoulders a bit tighter. You weren’t sure how far you wanted to go with him, but it felt too good to just stop here. Resting your forehead against Seokmin's, you moan his name softly, causing him to buck his hips upwards ever so slightly.

“Y/N…If you keep grinding on me like that, baby, you sound so pretty.”

You weren’t even sure if Seokmin had realized he had called you “baby”, but you couldn’t help but smile at the pet name. You could feel his cock getting harder under you, and you didn’t want to stop. Not unless he wanted you to.

“Mm, you feel good, Seokmin. Do you want me to stop?”

Slowing your movement, you hear Seokmin whine almost in pain, his hands sliding along your sides to your hips to push you back down over his erection. It was clear you both wanted more.

"Please, God, don’t stop. Can I—just wanna feel?”

Leaning back, you glance down to watch Seokmin’s fingers move over the clasp of your jeans and then your zipper. Letting you lift your hips once again, Seokmin helps you wiggle out of the denim before you settle back on his lap, and his fingers slide along your bare legs. His eyes move over your face, lips parted softly, only to pull up into a smile when you let out a moan of his name as you roll your hips down over his jeans.

“Do you wanna—mmm, oh my god, Seokmin?"

Starting to ask if he wanted to take off his pants too, you find yourself unable to finish the sentence when Seokmin has other ideas. His fingers were sliding to the center of your legs over your panties, which were now sticking to your wet pussy.

“This is what I want tonight. Is that okay? God, baby, you are so wet. Gonna get my jeans all messy.”

Leaning forward once again, you rest your forehead against Seokmin's, hearing his soft groan as you moan. With each roll of your hips towards his, you could feel Seokmin’s fingers brushing your clit though your panties, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body.

Your fingers tightly gripping at his shoulders, you feel his shirt bunching under your fingers as Seokmin smiles into another groan, feeling you grind down over his cock once again. He felt like he was going crazy. He wanted inside of you so badly, and yet this was more than enough for right now. The fucked out look on your face, the moans falling out of your mouth laced with his name? Seokmin was on cloud nine as his cock leaked obscenely in his boxers.

“Fuck, Y/N…want you to cum for me.”

The gentle and shy man was gone, and in his place was someone almost perfect. You loved how gentle Seokmin was and how he had been talking to you before, but now he was asking you to cum for him?

Your cheeks heating up. You smile at his words, catching your bottom lip between your teeth. You feel Seokmin’s fingers slide your panties to the side before his thumb and index finger roll around your clit, causing your back to arch.

Seokmin groans deep in his throat, his free hand holding tightly to your side to keep you safely on his lap as his other hand works over your clit and folds sending you over the edge. His eyes stay fixed on your face, his lips parting ever so slightly as you fall apart for him. Seokmin feels the warm, wet slick of your cum on his fingers and through your panties against it begins to soak through his jeans.

Another groan draws your attention. This one is not as deep as the last; instead, there is more breath and urgency to it. Your eyes find Seokmin’s face as his hips lift towards your warm, wet core, his hands pulling your hips down over him. You watch as a look of bliss spreads over his face before he closes his eyes and wrinkles his nose, shaking his head.

Smiling, you reach up to run your fingers along Seokmin’s cheek and down his neck, realizing what had happened. A look of slight embarrassment registers on the man’s face as he opens one eye, looking up at you to find you looking at him in awe.

“That was so fucking sexy, Seokmin. Oh my god…”

Biting at his lips, Seokmin quirks a brow at you, his fingers running along your thighs, trying to figure out if you are making fun of him. When it’s clear you aren't, you watch a smile spread along his lips before a laugh escapes his lips. Lifting a hand to his face, Seokmin pushes his hair from his forehead and sighs.

“Yeah? Well, I haven’t done that since I was a teenager, so how is that for teenage whimsy? I feel gross as hell, though, not even gonna lie.”

Laughing, you lean to kiss Seokmin, feeling him smile against your lips. His hands slide along your sides, and you back down until you slide from his lap and start to reach for your jeans, causing him to frown.

“Leaving?”

You glance back up to see Seokmin’s brows furrowed deeply, a look of concern on his face. Smiling softly, you shake your head and bite at your lips.

“Well, no… I mean, you said you felt gross. I thought you might want a shower.”

Reaching for you, Seokmin pulls you back into his arms and sighs against your temple as you settle against his side.

“Yeah, in a few minutes. You can take one too before I take you home, or at least wash off or something. I know you can’t feel comfortable. But there is no need for us to rush off, unless you want to. I enjoyed this.”

Your cheeks once again feel like you are standing too close to an oven. You find yourself smiling and nuzzling against Seokmin’s chest as he grins, feeling how warm your face has become.

“I’m not in a rush. I enjoyed it too. I told… I really like you, Seokmin.”

Leaning his head back against the sofa, Seokmin grins at your words, looking up at the ceiling, feeling like he had won the lottery. He knew he wasn’t the only date you were going to go on, but he felt like his chances were pretty good.

“Mm, and I like you. Now, tell me about Cheol as a teenager.”

Seokmin grins as you snort into a laugh at the question. He could get used to that sound and the feeling of you in his arms. He knew it wasn’t up to him, but he was going to enjoy tonight for as long as he could stretch it out.

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sarah-yyy · 9 months

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what: period cdrama // 40 eps, roughly 45 mins each (we’re on ep 29 atm, paid subscription required for vip eps) where: iqiyi (you can also dl the app) // youtube // (ps - usual disclaimer that i do not use eng subs so i don’t speak to the quality of subs) why: do you enjoy jianghu mysteries?? double/hidden-identities??? the shifu-complex trope??? enemies to friends (with a v Divorced-Exes vibe)?? this is the show for you. would enjoy if you enjoyed the blood of youth.

meet Li Lianhua, a somewhat famous jianghu doctor who is rumoured to be able to bring back the dead. this chill but odd man lives in a super cool caravan he built himself! spends his free time gardening and learning how to cook! he's got a cute pet dog as a companion! he is in his Zen Era, everything is going great for him*.

but i promised y'all hidden identities so, surprise surprise!! Li Lianhua is also known as Li Xiangyi, presumed dead master of the Top Jianghu Sect who has been MIA for the past decade

Li Xiangyi was poisoned + seriously injured in battle ten years ago, and for a variety of reasons, decided to retreat from jianghu to live his life in relative peace (while also searching for the remains of his shixiong). the poison he suffers from is fatal, it is emphasised he doesn't have long to live. (*except for the dying bit)

ANYWAY. while going about his day to day, Li Lianhua meets:

Fang Duobing, wannabe jianghu detective. this boy has a++ martial arts skills!! he's (relatively) smart!! he would make a good detective!! but his attempts to do so have been foiled by his Super Influential™ parents who do not want him in harm's way. all my boy wants to do is to successfully enrol in jianghu detective academy and travel the lands!! solve crimes!! he eventually weasels his way into a probationary position by telling the masters of the academy that his shifu is Li Xiangyi

cue extremely fun exchanges like:

FBD: if my shifu li xiangyi could see me now- LLH: your who???????????

these two have a funny strangers to jokingly enemies (LLH made a fool out of FBD and like drugged him the first time they met) to begrudging partners solving crimes to friends dynamic going on, absolutely a+++. FBD goes from 😤 at LLH to must protect this weak man i have decided is my best friend really quickly. i love one (1) boy.

there is also another key character in this, which really just. is the cherry on top of everything that the show has given us so far.

meet Di Feisheng. "villain" extraordinaire. has one (1) goal in life - beat LXY. "killed" LXY in battle ten years ago, but suffered severe injuries himself, so he's been recuperating for the past ten years.

imagine his goddamn surprise when he fucking meets LLH who he thought he defeated ten years ago. (side note: LLH is supposed to look nothing like LXY, but DFS recognised him p much instantly!!) he also learns that LXY was poisoned all those years ago, and was not in his best condition during their battle.

cue DFS going absolutely obsessed with curing LLH of his fatal poisoning so that they can go at it again, this time without any handicaps :)

SO ANYWAY these three go around solving cases together, while LLH/DFS also look into the inconsistencies of certain things that happened ten years ago. all the while the three of them are bickering the entire time.

tl;dr - this is the dynamic we've got going on:

FDB: this is LLH my boyfriend (but he doesn't know it yet) who is also my shifu (but i don't know it yet), and this is his extremely annoying ex-husband DFS who hangs around us and i absolutely HATE (and low-key want to throw in jianghu prison) because they are obviously hiding something from me, but also i would probably die for these two

if you need more convincing:

the cases have all been fun so far - the pacing of the show is quite good, and the cases don't really tend to drag on

the fight scenes are really cool - again, if you liked what they did in the blood of youth, you'll probably like this as well

frail and sickly Cheng Yi, always a bonus

i am going to, at some point, write fic about dfs railing fbd quiet while llh watches, someone hold me to this

#tv rec #mysterious lotus casebook #cdrama #a++++ show i am really having fun watching this

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lurkingshan · 2 months

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Phee, New, and a Masterful Misdirect

I know I already said as much, but this week drove home again how strong DFF's writing is. Because the way this show used Phee to throw us off the scent until the end game was so, so smart.

In the first four episodes, our attention was deliberately drawn to Phee. He was established as part of one of the two romantic pairings, and we were encouraged to wonder wtf was up with his relationship with Jin. We were also given many subtle hints that Phee was acting suspicious and seemed to be intentionally investigating the boys, while Tan stayed kind of vague and in the background. Tan seemed to know Phee better than the rest, and many guessed he might be helping Phee, but for the most part, the focus was on Phee.

Then as we moved into the flashback, Tan disappeared for four entire episodes, while we get a major reveal about Phee's relationship with Non and lots of time spent on its dissolution. So of course, the prevailing theory becomes that Phee is the one orchestrating this whole investigation and tormenting these boys in the woods. And the assumption is that he's doing this because of his deep love for Non, his shame for not supporting Non when everything hit the fan, and his conviction that he was done wrong. Tan is once again assumed to be helping him, though theories differed on why, with some guessing he was Non's brother and some speculating on other reasons.

But it turns out, Phee isn't running this operation at all. "Tan" is New, and he has been the driving force the entire time. It's his guilt over leaving Non alone to go abroad that motivates him to investigate, and he pulls Phee along with him.

And Phee? Well, he's not quite as broken up about Non's death as we thought. Sure, he wants to understand where Non went and why, for closure. But he doesn't seem to be carrying any huge burdens of guilt or shame, which makes sense because aside from Non's screenplay that alludes to culprits he doesn't name, he doesn't actually know the truth about Non's situation with Keng or what any of these boys did. He jumps into a romance with Jin incredibly quickly, and it's clear the attraction and his feelings are genuine even as he justifies it to New by claiming it's for the investigation. He takes Jin to the place where he asked Non to be his boyfriend, so apparently this is not something he holds sacred. The morning after he has sex with Jin, Phee is in Jin's room while he's asleep, and does not take the opportunity to investigate. Instead he moons over Jin, cuddles up to him, and instigates morning sex. He is still staring off into space smiling to himself about it until New accuses him of cheating on his brother, at which point he remembers what he's supposed to be doing, makes his excuses, and puts up walls with Jin.

And from then on, they don't seem to learn much of anything, and I suspect that Phee doesn't really want to, because he likes Jin and doesn't want to know what he did to Non. Phee, as it turns out, is just an immature high school boy who liked his boyfriend, but moved on pretty quickly once it was over. He would not be doing any of this if it wasn't for New, and it's clear his heart isn't in it. New is the one who feels deep guilt, who wants to learn what the group did to Non, and whose trauma compounds until he snaps and hatches a plan to trap them at the vacation house and dose them with hallucinogens. Phee goes along with it, but as we saw, his motive seems to be more about reconnecting with Jin before he leaves the country than actually caring about punishing these boys for what happened to Non.

What a great, nuanced little twist to this reveal. New has been the one running the show the whole time, and the show managed to keep that from us via a classic misdirect with Phee. I love that this show manages to keep finding ways to surprise us even when we have some of the picture figured out.

#dead friend forever #dff the series #thai bl #shan shouts into the void

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eddie-van-munson · 2 years

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Peanut Butter Cookies (Eddie Munson x Reader)

***********

Requested by @cupcake-de-abacaxi

Summary: The reader gets jealous when she meets a friend of Eddie's: a gorgeous, smart metalhead that's infuriatingly perfect for him. Little do you know, he's not interested in this 'friend' in the very least.

Warnings: Cursing, Drug use (Weed), Jealousy, Saucy Kisses, Implied Sex, Slight Angst (Happy Ending), Fluff.

(I will get a "Read More" cut on this ASAP. Requests are OPEN.)

***********

Her name was Juliet. How the hell were you supposed to compete with that? Fucking Juliet.

That was the most romantic, gothic, wicked ass name you'd ever heard.

She had thick black curls and glossy lips, painted dark and curved like a doll's. She wore a dense chain around her perfect porcelain neck and tall, studded boots.

You couldn't have found someone more suited to Eddie if you had drawn her yourself, but there she was. Draped across his living room couch.

"Who's this, Eds?" She cooed, as you wandered into the trailer. Your stomach churned. Eds. Only you and Wayne were allowed to call him that.

"Huh?" He glanced over from the kitchen where he was rolling a joint. "Oh! This is Y/N. She's mine. You'll love her."

She waved at you, smiling. You waved back shyly, slightly comforted by the phrase "she's mine" even though you knew what he meant was "she's with me".

"I'm Juliet." She sounded friendly enough. "Brownie?"

She held out a tray brownies, which were definitely edibles, and patted the couch beside her. You politely declined, but sat down, fidgeting with your hair.

"Oh god, Eds." She giggled, blushing as she covered her face with her brownie-free hand. "Do you remember the last time we made treats?"

Eddie grinned, smoke pluming from his lips when he laughed. It seemed he'd gotten the joint lit. "Jesus, I'd forgotten about that. We both ate one and thought they didn't work-"

"So we both had two more!"

"Holy shit. I thought the damn ceiling was talking to me."

Juliet laughed, wiping a tear from her large, shockingly blue eyes. "I thought Wayne was going to kill us!"

Jealousy boiled in your stomach. Wayne. She knew Wayne now too, apparently. And she and "Eds" had made "treats" together before.

Juliet sighed, polishing off her brownie. "Oh shit! I have something for you, Eds! I'd completely forgot! Let me grab it!"

Eddie chuckled as he sat beside you, "God, I've missed her." He sighed. "I haven't seen her in years. She said this time she might stay."

"S-Stay? In Hawkins?" Your heart stopped for a minute.

"Yeah! Isn't that amazing!"

You nodded, trying to save face for him. He was grinning ear to ear, and your heart hurt the more you admired him.

Juliet was back to quickly for your liking, holding a paper shopping bag. "For you..."

"Wait!? You bought me something?" Eddie's eyes went big.

"Just open it, silly!"

He gracelessly pulled the item from the bag. A brand new cassette. "Holy shit, is this?"

She grinned, nodding.

"Master of Puppets? This came out like, two days ago! How the hell did you?? Jules!!" He jumped up off the couch, pulling her into a hug as she giggled. "God, you're the best!"

Again your stomach churned, but this time from the feeling of being left out. You'd never been a metal head. Sure, there were a few songs you knew...a few you'd liked. And you loved hearing Eddie ramble about his favorite songs and bands, but it just wasn't your style.

Just the same, you had known Metallica was coming out with a new album. He'd mentioned it offhandedly about a week ago. You'd been saving up to try and get it for him for his birthday.

"Oh man, I've been dying to hear this. You have no idea."

Juliet grinned, "Pop it in!"

He headed for his player, but paused. "Nah. You know what? Let's save it. It's not really Y/N's thing."

Your heart sank with guilt.

"Oh man, really?" Juliet didn't sound judgemental, just surprised, but it still made your jaw clench a little. "I started dabbling in Black Sabbath a few years ago. I've never gone back."

Eddie laughed, "She knows fucking everything about this shit, Y/N. Any band, any song, any album, and she could give you the whole deal."

You gave a weak smile, nodding.

"Christ, it's so good to talk to someone who listens to actual music Eds. All my friends back home just listen to the fucking Beatles. You know, all the slow, sweet shit."

You loved the Beatles.

Eddie shot you an apologetic look, his eyes trailing to the little tin you'd brought with you. "What did you bring, N/N?"

"Is it speed?" Juliet gasped happily.

"Oh no...it's...um...Peanut Butter cookies."

Your mom loved Eddie. He was over at your house often, and everytime he was, he went on and on about her cooking.

This is good shit, Mrs. L/N.

They don't make 'em like you anymore, Mrs. L/N.

Damn, Mrs. L/N! You keep this up and you'll have me looking like the Philsbury dough boy!

He buttered her up like a slice of fucking toast. Hence, now everytime you went over to Eddie's, your mom sent the whole damn kitchen with you. Eddie didn't mind at all. Actually, you knew for a fact that was what kept him coasting when Wayne worked late. But for some reason, this time, you were mortified. Thank god you'd managed to talk her down to just the cookies.

"Oh!" Juliet said, her voice sweet, but still a little uncomfortable.

"M-My mom sent them for Eddie."

She frowned a little, "Peanut Butter Cookies? Eds, I thought you had a peanut allergy?"

Eddie's cheeks went a little pink. He scratched his neck, "Oh, well...it's just a minor one, really. It's not a big deal."

"What?" You'd known Eddie for years now. Literal, actual years. Never once had he ever mentioned a peanut allergy. "You never told me."

"It just...never came up." He shrugged.

Why were you angry at him? Why did you want to yell?

"Eddie, mom has sent over granola, before. Granola with peanuts."

His eyes were wide, "And Wayne loved it! It was great!"

"That's not the point!" You said a little too loudly, tears welling in your eyes. You stood from the couch, throwing your bag over your shoulder.

"Where are you going?" His voice was so soft. He sounded hurt.

"Nowhere. I'm sorry I'm just...tired or something."

He frowned, "Don't leave."

Your heart sank as you dug the tin from your bag, setting it on the counter. "It's alright, Eds. I'm alright. I'll catch up with you later ok? I promise."

You turned to Juliet, who was looking a bit bewildered where she was sitting on the couch.

"It was nice meeting you."

And with that, you shut the door behind you.

***********

You were in tears by the time you got home, mad at yourself for making such a stupid scene over his stupid peanut allergy, of all things. Juliet probably thought you'd lost it.

You put on a Beatles tape, completely out of spite, and crawled into bed with your clothes still on. Hot tears rolled down your cheeks.

How dare she. How dare she swoop in and be beautiful and perfect for him. And know every little detail about him on top of that. How dare she like metal and wear edgy clothes when you didn't. How dare she be endearing enough for him to give her a nickname. How dare she.

You'd cried until what little makeup you had on had stained your pillow case, and then you cried some more, because that was your softest one.

You flipped your pillow to the dry side, chest aching with sadness, and promptly fell asleep.

***********

You woke up to the feeling of the bed dipping. A warm, familiar smell enveloped you as you felt your covers being tucked in around your body. A fingertip grazed over your forehead, brushing baby hairs back from your face.

A soft voice sang along to your tape.

Making each day of the year... Changing my life with a wave of her hand... Nobody can deny that there's something there.

His hand cradled your face, grazing back and forth over your cheek lovingly.

Running my hands through her hair... Both of us thinking how good it can be... Someone is speaking, but she doesn't know he's there.

Your eyes fluttered, and you knew you had to be dreaming as a pair of big brown eyes came into focus.

"Hey, baby."

His thumb swiped at the trace of mascara left beneath your eyes and your nose scrunched, making him smile.

"H-...How do you know it?" You slurred, still half asleep.

"Know what, sweetheart?"

"The song." You whined, pitifully.

He gave a soft chuckle, "Because I like this song."

"No you don't."

"Yes I do."

"No you-"

"Jesus, how are you this stubborn when you're half asleep?"

You made a face, which immediately melted away when he continued petting your hair lovingly.

"I like this song..." He held your gaze, stubbornly. "Because it reminds me of you ."

You stared back at him, brow softening.

He smiled, "What can I say? I guess sometimes I'm into the slow, sweet shit."

Tears welled in your eyes, and you immediately covered them so he couldn't see. Your voice trembled ridiculously with tears. "Why didn't you tell me you had a peanut allergy?"

"Aw baby..." He chuckled sweetly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you."

You gave a pitiful laugh through your tears, letting him move your hand away to see your red, puffy, makeup stained eyes.

"God, look at you." He giggles softly, brushing his thumb beneath your ringed eyes again. "You're a raccoon." You rolled your eyes and he laughed, admiring you for a moment. "Do you forgive me?"

You nod, pulling him down into a hug. "Do you forgive me?"

"Nothing to forgive, princess."

You frown a little, pulling back to see his face. "Yes there is. I got angry and jealous."

He hums sweetly, "Well in that case, you're forgiven." You comb through his curls, tenderly. "I wouldn't worry about Juliet either, ok? You've got nothing to be jealous about."

"No Eds, I..." You took a deep breath, mustering your courage. "I want you guys to be together."

He quirked his brow, laying back on your bed and propping an arm behind his head. "Yeah? Why's that?"

You rest your chin on his chest, "Because you're perfect for each other. She likes the same music and she dresses like you and she knows so much about metal..."

He rubs a hand up and down the small of your back looking amused. "I don't think things are gonna work out between me and Juliet, babe."

You frown, "W-Why not?"

He smiles, "Well, I know I'm pretty backwards sweetheart, but as far as I know, it tends to be frowned upon to have a good 'round in the sheets' with your cousin."

You froze, a shit eating grin on Eddie's face.

"Cousin?"

He nods slowly, "That's right. Juliet Munson."

You were still processing, "Juliet Mun-..."

"Wayne's daughter. She lived with her mom. Came back down to visit now that she's over eighteen."

Juliet Munson. Eddie's...cousin. Christ.

You buried your head in his chest and he burst into bright, clear laughter.

"Eddieeee."

He brought a hand to his face, gathering tears from his eyes as he tried to steady out his giggles.

You gave him an embarrassed look, "You're never going to let me live this down, are you?"

"Never in a million years, Princess."

You were holding back laughter now too. You sat up, giving him a playful shove. " Well, I don't think it's funny, Eddie Munson. You-"

"Oh, Com'ere you."

He grabbed the collar of your shirt, pulling you down into a messy, needy kiss. You straddled him, letting his hands slide up over your neck to cradle your face. He sat up on his elbows, chasing your lips when you moved. His breath was heavy and hot as he hummed against you, "You...didn't have any...of those cookies did you?"

You tugged his curls in retaliation, making him give the most delicious whine. "No, asshole."

He chuckled as you gave him another tug, his head falling back so you could kiss down his throat. He cursed, grinding his hips.

"So the whole 'feeling like I can't breathe' thing and the lightheaded-ness...fuck...that's normal?"

"Yeah." You rasp, nipping at his collarbone. "I feel it too."

Eddie chuckled, pulling off his shirt, and you pulled back to admire him, tracing your fingertips over his tattoos.

He moaned, pressing up against your touch. "You have no idea what you do to me."

You chuckled softly, "Well as long as it doesn't involve me making you break out in hives..." You rocked your hips lightly, and his hands gripped your thighs. "I'm down to find out."

***********

#eddie munson #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie imagine #eddie imagines #eddie x reader #eddie x you #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #eddie munsen x reader #eddie munsen imagine #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munsen

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badkitty3000 · 2 months

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Weak

Even Five Hargreeves is no stranger to temptation. He tries so hard to stay away. He wants to do the right thing for once in his life. If not for himself, then for her. But every man has his breaking point.

Five Hargreeves x Reader Smut

This one shot is an accompaniment to my other work "Addicted". This can be read on its own, but is a different side of the story, as told from Five's point of view.

As always, I am open to requests. Thank you!

My Master List Of Number Five Fanfiction

Weak:

I never meant to take it this far. I never meant to be cruel. That’s not who I am, or at least I didn’t think I was. I also thought I was strong and had will power. But I guess I was wrong about that, too. Because as much as I try to stay away, I don’t.

I know who I am and what I’m made of. The terrible things I’ve done. That’s not a secret and I’ve never lied to myself about that. My morals can’t even be called a gray area anymore; they’re more like an indistinct blur. But in this one tiny part of my soul, I was trying to be better. For her, at least.

I have failed miserably.

She knows what I am. When things got too comfortable and too familiar, I told her as a way to push her away and to scare her. It didn’t work, though. In fact, it had the opposite effect. She fucking loved it…and I didn’t know how to say no to that.

How could I say no when she was tearing at my clothes, practically panting with desire, and shoving her hand down my pants? All over a bloody stain on a shirt collar and the feel of my Glock against her skin. I’m sure there’s a way to resist that, but fuck if I know what it is. I’m not smart enough or strong enough to figure that one out.

I don’t particularly like all of the killing. But I’m pretty fucking good at it and someone has to do it, I suppose. I certainly never considered it sexy in any way. Then, after that first time, when she begged me to tell her all of the gruesome details, and I watched her skin start to flush and her pupils dilate…well, fuck, that put a new spin on everything.

I still don’t like it, that part hasn’t changed. I get no pleasure from pulling that trigger and watching their skull break open like a fucking pinata, spraying the contents of their brains all over the floor like the world’s worst party game. Now, however, there is a sick little spark that will ignite in me after it’s done. Because I know how it will turn her on.

And, fuck, I am weak.

That’s what this all boils down to. Weakness. For most people that meet me or know me in any way, weak is probably the last word they would use to describe me. Cold; bitter; sarcastic; asshole. Those adjectives are much more likely to be used. But weak? Doubtful.

I know the truth, though. Deep down, that is what I am. Because when you continue to break someone’s heart time and time again, just because you can’t control your own basic urges…that’s weakness. Pure and simple.

She has told me how much I’ve hurt her, and how much I am ruining her life. She has screamed and cried and told me all of the things I know I deserve to hear. She has called me an asshole more times than I can remember, and I have never disputed it. So, I stay away, like I know I should. Until she inevitably calls again. And I slip right back into it without another thought. Like the absolute fucking bastard that I am.

Weak.

Because even though I know it’s wrong and I’m slowly poisoning her with my selfishness, each time I think maybe it will be different. Maybe this time will be the time when I stay. When I will finally be the person I should be and really want to be.

All the way up until the early morning, I will convince myself that this is it. I’ve finally seen the light and I can be the man she deserves; it will be so easy. Because when it’s just the two of us, in our own little cocoon, hidden away from the outside world, the idea is magical. I would give anything to stay there, tucked away, fucking like animals until we’re both too exhausted to talk anymore. I want to stay there and listen to her voice, and her laugh, and feel her hands on my touch-starved body. And I think, yes, this is it. This is what I want.

Then morning comes and the spell is broken.

Once that first peek of dawn starts to light up the sky, all of my anxieties come rushing back, and I remember why I can’t stay. Morning brings back the real world, and with it all of its problems.

I will freeze up, practically paralyzed with fear, as she sleeps next to me, an arm draped over my chest. I will remember what kind of person I really am, and how that just doesn’t translate to boyfriend material. And it’s not just the little fact that I am a hired assassin, although that does put a slight snag in any future meetings with parents and the like.

It’s the mixing bowl of fucked up thoughts and feelings and history that lives inside my brain. Guilt. Regret. Sadness. Rage. Take your pick, none of them are great. And I can mask them for a night or two, while I’m pretending to be someone I’m not. But they will come back again, and that’s just not something anyone needs. Especially someone you care about.

So, I do the worst, shittiest thing in the world, and leave while she’s asleep. No kiss goodbye. No note. Not even a quick morning fuck. I grab my shit and leave in a flash of blue light, like the weak coward I am. Can’t even bother to use the god damn door.

I will stay away after that. At least for a while. I will ignore the incoming texts and voice mails that sometimes will follow, and sometimes don’t. I’ll pretend I don’t care about the lectures and pleas and rightly-deserved insults. But I do care. And that’s why I won’t answer.

A month might go past, maybe more. Just enough time for me to start thinking she really is done with me. Then the call will come through, late at night, and I won’t ignore it. Because, as we’ve determined…I am weak.

She is the only one, although I’ve never told her that and I bet she thinks she’s not. I’m not interested in anyone else. I don’t need anyone else. And when she stops calling for good, which one day I know will happen, that will be it. It’s either her or nobody. And it’s barely even her.

Our paths almost never cross outside of our little midnight meetings. After that first night when all of this started, I’ve never seen her anywhere else besides her apartment. I assume it’s because the types of bars and clubs I frequent are not anywhere a normal, sane person would want to spend their free evenings. But tonight, as fate would have it, I do see her. After I grab my drink off the cracked and peeling bar top and turn to look at the room behind me, I see her. And she’s not alone.

With my glass half way to my mouth, our eyes meet, and for a second neither of us move. It’s not a big place, so we aren’t that far away from one another. But it’s loud and crowded, and the guy is leaning in close to her ear, talking loudly to be heard over the constant bass thumping through the shitty speakers on the walls. Who the fuck is this guy?

It’s not fair, I know that. Believe me, I know that. And I try to give myself a stern talking-to inside my head. She is not yours. Not even remotely. You are an asshole and she deserves better. Leave her the fuck alone.

I take a drink. And then I see his hand disappear under the table, and I can see everything from where I’m standing. He’s squeezing her thigh, leaving his hand there to rest on her leg, rubbing his thumb across the bare skin that isn’t covered by her short skirt. A skirt I know I’ve had my face under before.

Fuck. I hate this guy.

In the thirty seconds that it takes for all of this to happen, she is watching me. Reading me. A faint smile plays on her lips and I know I’m caught. My thoughts must be written all over my face like a fucking billboard, and it’s too late to pretend I haven’t seen or that I don’t care. She’s got me.

If I were stronger, or a better person, I would leave. Pay my tab, collect my coat, and get the fuck out of there without another glance in her direction. Leave her be. Let her live her fucking life. But I am not. And I’m pissed.

My first instinct is to reach behind me, grab the Glock that’s hidden in the waistband of my pants and covered up by my suit jacket, and take care of this asshole right then and there. That would probably be the nicer thing to do, honestly. Then she’d finally see what a fucking psycho I am and that would end things once and for all. But I’m also not that stupid. Or that nice.

Instead, I stay and watch. I let her see me watching, too. I lean with my back against the bar, casually sipping my drink, and my eyes never leave her. I want her to know, even if it makes me more of a giant dick than I already am. I want her to know I am not pleased.

I have no idea who this guy is, and I don’t care. Maybe it’s their first date; maybe it’s their tenth. It doesn’t matter, I want him dead. And now that she knows that, because it’s pretty fucking obvious by the way I’m coiled like a cobra ready to strike right now, it’s quickly become a game. If she had feelings for him before, that seems to have been forgotten now. Because everything she is doing is for me.

Her eyes leave mine and she returns to what I can only imagine is a very dull conversation with the Neanderthal sitting next to her. She smiles and laughs, and moves her leg closer to his so that they are touching. She reaches up and fixes his hair, tucking a stray piece of it over his ear. She rests her chin on her hand and stares at him like he’s the most interesting person she’s ever encountered. And he’s eating this shit up; kicking his game up a notch with even more inane talk and rubbing her thigh up and down with his whole hand. He thinks she’s into him. Fucking dumbass.

That’s the only thing keeping me slightly calm at the moment. Knowing it’s all a play. She is a really good actress, I’ll give her that, but I’ve paid more attention to her than she realizes. I know her tells. I know the difference between her fake laugh and her real one. I can tell when she’s actively engaged in the conversation or she is just waiting for you to shut up. I know how she touches her face when she’s nervous and I know what she looks like when she wants to fuck you.

And, buddy…I got bad news for you.

The corner of my mouth lifts in an arrogant smirk as I take another drink. I shouldn’t be proud of this; I should be appalled. How dare I think I have any right to any of her little traits and quirks? I haven’t earned that. That kind of thing is reserved for boyfriends and husbands and people that can stand to stick around for more than a few hours.

When she runs her tongue over her lips in an obvious gesture meant only for me, I actually laugh out loud. Fuck, she knows what she’s doing. And it’s one hundred percent working.

As I order my second drink, feeling the calming buzz of the booze fill my brain, I start to care less and less. I don’t care if this is not fair. I don’t care that I’m being a complete and utter shit head. I don’t care if I’m weak. I’ll deal with all of that later.

I take out my phone and type out a quick text.

Enjoying yourself?

I watch as she glances to her phone on the table as it lights up. She picks it up, angling it away from Caveman Cliff, and reads it. It’s subtle, but I saw it. A brief twitch of her mouth and a quick flit of her eyes in my direction. I see her type out a quick reply and then she is back to him, completely enrapt in his droning.

Immensely, thank you

Not able to resist, I counter with:

Even I can tell from way over here that your panties are as dry as the desert

She holds in a smile as she responds back.

Too bad you’re not going to find out

Honey, if that pussy of yours is even slightly wet, it’s only because you’re thinking of me bending you over that table you’re sitting at right now

I see her legs shift and she crosses one over the other, squeezing them together as a faint blush covers her cheeks.

And why would I be thinking that?

Because that dipshit you’re with isn’t going to give you what I know you want

I watch as she swallows and then glances at the idiot to her left that is oblivious to all of this, the poor bastard. Her response is short.

Fuck you

She puts her phone away to end this exchange, but I see the small smile she is trying to hide and the way she touches her hand to her face. I can see her chest expand as she sucks in a deep breath, biting at the inside of her cheek.

I give a short snort of satisfaction and put my phone back in my inside jacket pocket. I got what I wanted. I throw back the rest of my drink, leave a few dollars for a tip, and head for the door without another look in her direction. But I know she saw me leave.

As I wait there in the dark, I think about how awful I’m being; what a shit bag move this is. I’m using her, that’s what it boils down to. Using her for her warmth and her openness, and to temporarily calm my mind. Also, for her body and her touch. She sees something in me that isn’t there; or at least something I can’t see. But I can’t or won’t give her what she needs, and I’m also not letting her move on.

Fuck, I’m an asshole.

I hear their voices coming down the hall, the rattle of keys in her hand. As they near the door, I can hear her made up excuses. She’s tired; she had too much to drink; she has a headache. Maybe next time. She’ll call him tomorrow. Then she slips inside her darkened apartment and the door closes behind her.

I’m on her before she has a chance to turn the light on, pressing her against the door as she drops her keys on the floor. Since I’ve been waiting, the anticipation has already made me fully hard and I push my groin into her while I circle my hand lightly around her neck.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? No love connection tonight?” I growl next to her ear.

She never even screams or fights back. She knew I would be there. But her hands grab my forearm and I hear her suck in a loud breath.

“I never knew you were the jealous type,” she smarts back.

“Only when I see someone try to take what’s mine,” I hiss hotly against her neck, drawing my lips and then my tongue across her skin.

“I’m not your fucking property,” she snarls, but I can hear the break in her voice and she swallows hard against my hand.

I laugh cynically. “Well, then I can go and you can let him fuck you instead. Is that what you want?”

There’s a long pause and it’s just our loud breathing in the dark of the room. Then I feel her head move slowly from side to side.

“No,” she whispers.

As I crash my mouth onto hers, my hands in her hair and on her face, and down to her tits, she is reaching for the front of my pants. I had already removed my jacket and belt when I got there, as well as the pistol that I always carry with me. Our little act back at the bar was already enough foreplay and our bodies are screaming for each other.

Our hands can’t work fast enough as she is shoving my pants down my legs and tearing my shirt open while I rip her top off and yank her skirt up. My fingers are already pushing her panties to the side and entering her, sliding right in with no resistance.

I smile proudly against her neck. “I knew you were wet for me.”

As she moans and throws her head back, she is reaching down to stroke my cock, her warm hand tight and firm as she drags it slowly over my shaft.

My hips are already jerking into her and I want to be inside of her so badly I can’t think straight.

“Get these panties off so I can fuck you,” I snarl.

I pull my fingers out, pushing her underwear down roughly and she quickly steps out of them. With one pull of her hips into me, her arms clutching tightly to my shoulders, I lift her up and start fucking her against the door.

I tip my head back and groan loudly as she whines and pulls her legs tighter around my waist.

“Can he make you feel this good?” I ask between clenched teeth as I ram into her harder and the door rattles in its frame.

“No!” she cries out.

“Do you think about him when you’re alone and fingering yourself?”

Her moans are punctuated by the slamming of my body against hers and her fingers press deeper into my skin.

“No,” she breathes out. “No.”

“You think about me, don’t you?” I say with a sneer. When she doesn’t answer fast enough, I ask again, louder. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whimpers pitifully, her nails digging sharply into my shoulder blades.

I can’t believe what I’m saying and what I’m doing. But she’s loving it and so I continue.

“I’m going to fuck you until you forget all about him, and then I’m going to fuck you some more. And if I ever see you with him again, I will kill him.”

“You wanted to kill him, didn’t you?” she asks, and that knowing smile starts to form as she closes her eyes and bites her lip. “When you saw him with me?”

“Fuck yes I did,” I groan loudly into her neck.

She’s almost there, I can tell. So am I, but I’m going to make her finish first. I pick up the pace, thrusting into her as hard as I can, her back and head slamming against the door, my fingers digging deeper into the flesh of her thighs and ass. I’m practically ripping into the side of her neck, latching on with my mouth and teeth, desperate to mark her as my own.

I listen as she repeats my name over and over in gasps and moans and I can’t hold back anymore.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You are all mine.”

She is falling apart in my arms, violently shaking against me as I penetrate her one last time, letting out a loud, guttural moan. I’m as deep inside of her as I can be, and I fill her up with so much cum, I know it will start sliding out; dripping down her legs and onto the floor. Somewhere deep inside, in the primordial part of my brain, I take satisfaction in knowing that it’s my seed, and only mine, that is coating her insides.

Once the last spasm has left my body, I let her down and she falls back against the door, breathing hard. Her bra is still on, but the straps have fallen down, and her skirt is bunched up around her waist. I look at the painful looking purple bruise I left on her neck, which is large enough and obvious enough that she won’t be able to cover it. Her eye makeup is smeared and her lips are swollen and red. She looks completely ravished. And then she starts to cry.

It’s because of me, I know it is. Because of the things I said and the things I did, and the way I needed her so desperately. She had been trying to break away from me and I reeled her back in. And I did it knowingly and deliberately, just to feed my ego and maybe not feel so alone. I could have found anyone for that. But, like the prick I am, I only wanted her.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, my lungs still working hard to get air in and out.

She just nods silently, wiping her face with her hand, and pulls down her skirt. She picks her shirt and underwear off the floor and heads to the bathroom without a word. I’m left standing there with a softening dick and my pants around my ankles.

Fuck.

I could leave now, while she’s in there, and maybe I should. That feels wrong, though. But then again, so does staying. I feel like shit and I’m so full of shame that I want to punch my fist through the wall. Instead, I zip my pants back up and walk over to her couch to wait. I turn on the table lamp and even though it’s dim, it feels blaringly bright and I have to squint my eyes.

When she comes out, she has changed into some soft shorts and a t-shirt. Her face is cleaned up and I assume her thighs and the area between them are too. She is no longer crying, but I can still see the tell-tale signs of red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks. I’m surprised when she comes and sits down next to me, laying her head on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, because I can’t think of anything better to say.

“I know. Me too,” she says and she leans her body against mine.

She has nothing to be sorry for and I’m not sure what to do, so I put my arm around her and hug her to me. I kiss her forehead and she closes her eyes. I don’t know why she’s letting me do this, but it feels good and I like it. Just like every other time, I tell myself that maybe this time will be different. I can do this; I can be that person. I don’t want to be that other jealous, callous, hurtful person. I don’t want to be the asshole.

“Just don’t go yet, ok?” she says quietly with her cheek resting against my chest.

I smooth her hair and run my hand down her back. I don’t want to go. She feels good and warm and soft against my tension-filled body. She feels right. I want to tell her all of that, too. I want to say I’m sorry a million times over and beg for her forgiveness. I want to wake up with her next to me every day.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” I murmur into her hair as I brush my chin across the top of her head.

“Don’t do that,” she pleads, her voice soft. “Please.”

I decide I’m going to tell her how I really feel. Before the night is over, I’ll come clean. And then I’ll stay. If she’ll still have me.

“You are, though. I mean it.”

She doesn’t respond, but sighs and nestles in, holding me around my waist. Fuck, I have craved this. More than the dirty talk and the biting and the ferocious fucking. I want this. I want her. And I’m going to tell her.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. It’s there, on the tip of my tongue the whole time. All I have to do is say it. But I don’t.

We fuck again, rough and hard, on the couch and on the floor. I leave more marks on her chest, branding her as my own. I tell her she’s mine, and I make her scream my name again, but I don’t say what I really mean.

We fuck in her bed, while we’re both tired and slightly drunk. I pump lazily into her while she lies underneath me and moans softly. I kiss her lips and tell her how gorgeous she is, and it’s not a lie because she is. I worship her body, running my tongue over every part of it, tasting her skin and her delicious arousal. I can taste my own cum as I lick into her soft folds and inside her pussy that’s been stretched and abused by my cock several times over.

There are so many opportunities and I don’t take any of them. I let her fold her body into mine as I hold her in the dark and I can say it right now. It would be easy and it would be the truth.

I want to be with you.

I want to be yours.

I want you to be mine and mine alone.

I want to stay.

But I am weak, and so I don’t.

She sleeps against me and I listen to her rhythmic breathing while I lie there wide awake. I think about all of the things I should have said. Everything I should have done and should not have done. I hate myself for all of it.

When the sun creeps in, and the faintest light is leaking through the curtains and cutting through the safety of the darkness, it all comes crashing back. I remember why I can’t stay and why those words just wouldn’t come out. The reality of the real world is glaringly obvious in the light of day and I remember all of it.

The real world is filled with everyday things like jobs and homes and bills to pay. Coworkers and families that want to meet you. Graduation and birthday parties. Movie and dinner dates, holidays and vacations. Marriage. Children. Normalcy.

There’s just no way any of that would work. I can’t fit into that life, even though I want to. I think of all of the things holding me back and they keep piling up until they are crushing me and I feel like I can’t breathe.

I am an assassin. A killer. A murderer. I have seen the end of the world and survived the most horrific things. I have PTSD and crippling anxiety. There are nightmares and paranoia and episodes of manic rage. I am old and I am tired. There is nothing left of me and nothing left to give. I am not meant for normalcy.

As I slowly remove her arm from across my chest, she stirs but she doesn’t wake. I take a moment to look at her. Her mind isn’t betraying her with vivid dreams of the world collapsing around her in a fiery blaze or sprays of bullets piercing her body. She is at peace and I am envious of that.

I am not good for her, I know that. I need to go and stay gone. She deserves stability and happiness and a million other things I cannot give her. So, I will be the asshole that leaves in the morning before she wakes, just like I always do. She will hate me and curse me and cry for me. And I will stay away this time. I have to.

I chance it by leaning in and brushing my lips across her forehead. Her face wrinkles up and then relaxes again, but she doesn’t wake. I slip out of the bed and out of the room, following the trail of discarded clothes and put them back on one by one. Then I am gone in the same flash of light that allowed me to enter there in the first place. A convenient exit that I have misused way too many times.

Outside, the sun is bright and the world is waking up. I can feel my resolve growing stronger as the new day builds. That was it, I am done. It was awful and I shouldn’t have done it, but it’s over now and I will not be repeating it. I am a pillar of inner strength. That was the last time and she is finally free of me. I am doing the right thing.

My strength is impressive, both inside and out. But it is not impenetrable, especially when darkness falls and the world around me grows quiet. When I am alone with nothing but my thoughts, and I just need to feel something good again.

Everyone has a weakness.

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matthew-gray-gublers-babygirl · 11 months

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Under The Weather

Pairing: Season one/younger Spencer Reid x Female reader.

Summary: Spencer has come down with the common cold, and as a germophobe, he is not having the best time.

Warnings: Just fluff, very vague mention of periods, and of course mention of the cold/flu.

Word count: 501 (Hella short, I know...)

MASTER LIST

You laugh into the receiver and pray that your boyfriend doesnt hear from down the hall. “Don’t worry. Our little genius will be back to work in no time,” you say warmly to Penelope through the phone then wish her a goodnight. Out of everybody at the BAU, Spencer was the last one you’d expect to catch the common cold. He's still wrapped up in the blanket and pouting as you bring his bowl of soup to the bedroom. "Y/N," he says, and you suppress a laugh from his nasally voice. “I’m hygienic, right? I avoid handshakes and wash my hands frequently... I even take vitamins! How on earth did I get sick?” His rage and whining reduced his IQ from 187 to an average of 100, causing a placebo effect as your IQ increased.

"It's not always a matter of how hygienic you are," you say as you set the hot bowl on the tray in front of him. "Actually, no matter how healthy they are, the average adult gets the common cold two to three times a year," you say. Spencer gives you a deadpan expression. "Hey, I thought I was supposed to be the smart one," he complains.

You laugh at his immaturity. “Come on, eat up. The soup will help your throat," you say, ruffling his hair slightly, and he squeezes his face, one of his usual stims. You observe him as he picks up the spoon, scoops the soup with it, and swallows it. As the hot liquid soothed his sore throat, you could see him relax.

This was the first time Spencer was sick since you made your relationship official. You've gotten sick plenty of times, including the symptoms of your menses, which he took very seriously. The times you were sick with the cold or the flu, Spencer gave you princess treatment, along with countless ‘fun’ facts about the human body.

Your relationship was never fully understood by the other agents at the BAU. They knew Spencer was a 'pretty boy,' as Morgan affectionately refers to him, but aside from his looks, the crew through Spencer had very little social knowledge about girls. Oh, how wrong they were. Yes, he was shy, but he was such a loving partner when he was alone with you. He was attentive and remembered every detail. And he took care of you, mentally and physically, just as you were doing for him right now, as if it were a vow he made at the altar because, in his mind, he already had.

"Better?" you ask. "Getting there," he says. "Thank you." Spencer takes a large gulp before speaking. “Did you know that it's not actually the warm temperature of the soup that helps your throat, but the sodium in the recipe? That's why gargling salt water is commonly used to treat a sore throat.” And just like that our normal Spencer was back, albeit the nasally and hoarse voice still made it impossible to take him seriously.

Text divider by -> cafekitsune

#spencer x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fan #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff

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writers-hes · 9 months

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All Things End

You always knew Tommy as the cheerful boy who took care of you. He always knew you as the smart girl that he visited by the docks. The daughter of a prostitute, the son of a deadbeat father; a soldier who protected his country; a whore who protected him; a gangster who controlled Brimingham; and now, a wife. War changes people, you just didn’t realize that war could change you both. (angst, depictions of abuse, poverty, prostitution, canon-typical themes, death, war, time jumps, depictions of mental illness, and a toxic marriage)

A/N: This whole fic was inspired by Hozier’s latest releases; Nth/Unknown, All Things End, Francesca, and Eat Your Young. I recommend listening to the album before or after you read this. This dedicated to everyone who reblogged the last chapter. Thank you for the love; it means the world.

PROTECTION SERIES TAGLIST | PROTECTION MASTERLIST navigation | main master lists |

PART ONE: Toy Horses Outside the Brothel

BIRMINGHAM, 1914

You’ve been inconsolable since the Shelby brothers left. Everyone can see how different you were ever since they left. The Shelby’s reached out to you—but you didn’t like going to Watery Lane. You begged Polly to remove the Blinders that were supposed to watch you and she agreed after a while. It wasn’t the same without Tommy protecting you. You didn’t have the strength to face them, to go to their house and pretend like it was all okay.

“Angel, I’ve missed you,” he sighed into your hair. “Did you miss me?”

“Of course, I do, Simon,” you told him. “How are you? It’s been a while since you last saw me. You don’t like me anymore?”

“You know that I could never forget about you, darling,” he said. “I have a gift for you,”

“Really?” you asked, eyes hopeful. “What is it?”

Simon smiled, fishing a velvet jewellery box out of his pocket. He opens it and you gasp. A pair of sapphire earrings.

“I have to start dressing you up when I take you to London,” he says. “You’ll wear it for me?”

“I’ll wear it,” you confirm. You fixed your hair up in a faux bun. “Will you put it on me, Simon?”

“Of course,” he says, doing what you asked. “I’m fixing everything for us,”

“For us?” you asked, brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I told you that I’ll show you the world, didn’t I?” he asked, grasping your jaw softly to make you look up at him. “I’m taking you away from this shit hole.”

“We’ll stay in Birmingham?” you asked, voice wavering. Fuck. What do you do now?

“No, we won’t,” he shook his head. “I have a mansion in London waiting for us. Why would I want to live here?”

“But…”

“But what? Are you not thankful that I’m showing the whole world? I thought I was your hero?” he asked, his hand over yours.

“You are!” you said, inching closer. “You are. But I have friends here,”

“We can visit them,” he says dismissively. “Anytime you want. Or they can visit us, you know? Once you’re mine, you’ll have everything you want on your fingertips,”

“Why are you so nice to me?” you asked.

“Because you’re my Angel. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. You make me want to take care of you,” he says. “I love you. You love me too, right?”

“Of course,” you lied. “Of course, I do.”

Polly and Ada liked to visit your house every now and then. They said that it makes them forget all about Watery Lane. Over the times you’ve spent here, the house was fully in bloom. You’d buy plants and some fresh flowers to keep in a vase. There was always a pot of water ready to be heated for tea. You hated your job but this freedom, your own house…it sometimes made everything worth it.

“Shit, love. Your rich bastard must be buttering you up,” Polly says, helping herself on some tea. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you wore those sapphire earrings. You like him?”

“No,” you shook your head. “He has some of his men guard me…I’m afraid that he’ll stop showing if I stop wearing these heavy earrings.”

“Waiting for…”

“It’s hard,” you said. “I don’t go to the brothel anymore. Simon forbade me to work there after he gave me this. He said he’s fixing up things in London.”

“Do you want to leave?” Ada asked, looking at you.

“No,” you swallowed. “I’m thankful for…for being here. Not having to work anymore and just living comfortably but the price that I’m paying for it…”

You wanted to be there when Tommy comes back. You wanted to be the one to kiss him the first time you see him out of that train. But if you left…if you didn’t wait like you promised, what good would that be on the end of things? You wanted to see how life with Tommy plays out but what would you in the meantime? Where would you go?

“You have to choose what you’re willing to sell, then. You can’t live like this if you won’t string that rich bastard along. You won’t have to leave if you still work at the brothel.” Polly said. “Did you at least…think about it?”

“He said I could visit…or you could visit,” you replied, looking at anywhere but them. “But…but…I want to be here,”

“What if he doesn’t come back? This war…war changes people. Would you really toss your entire life away for a man in the war? I’m supposed to be on Tommy’s side, but I don’t want you missing out on life just because you're waiting for him,” Polly said. She’s always been practical, and she was…right. But you desperately wanted to see him before anything else. Still, Tommy and his brothers might never come back. If you turned down Simon’s proposal, you’ll be the town pariah. You could be wasting a good life away for Tommy Shelby.

“Pol,” Ada hissed but her aunt only smoked her cigarettes.

“All things end, darling. Maybe whatever you have with Tommy has run its course,” she exhaled, clouds of smoke entering your lungs, closing in on you. All things end. All things end.

LONDON, 1915

“I can’t believe I’m going to be married today,” you whispered. Your voice betrayed you, wavering slightly. “Fuck,”

“Hey, you can still stop the wedding,” Ada replied, stopping the work that she was doing on your veil. It was an expensive one, it cost more than your home in Birmingham. You never let that go, asking Ada to take care of it while you were gone. “We can run away,”

“I’m already here,” you nodded. “I want to…I want to see Tommy.” Your face was crestfallen, heart drumming in your chest because you never imagined your wedding to be like this. You were picking on your nailbeds again, nevermind the lacquer that coloured your nails. You were getting married in the most expensive place in London. Flowers hung from the ceiling; pearls lined your wedding dress. The sapphire earrings hung from your ears like albatrosses. The diamond ring on your finger demanded attention, a big rock on a silver band embedded with smaller diamonds. You never imagined being married like this. You always thought that you’d marry in the countryside, a nice flowy gown that you borrowed, wildflowers, and dancing. Not like this…surrounded by other businessmen, rich families who never gave a shit about you until you married Simon.

“You’re getting married but you’re unhappy. This should be your day,” Ada said, ensuring that nothing was out of place. “You’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen in my life.”

You smiled tightly. You should be thankful—ecstatic. You should be happy. So many girls dreamed of this. A fairytale wedding. The war was getting worse but not for you, not for Simon. In any case, Simon relished in the war, it brought him more money. You hated yourself for marrying him today when Tommy was most probably out there, fighting for his life.

Were you to blame for marrying Simon, though? It’s been a year and Tommy has never sent you a letter. All the letters you’ve sent were never replied to. It saddened you at first because his family would have something to look for, but you were left in the dust. You never brought that matter to light, maybe Tommy didn’t want to talk to you.

It hurts to be forgotten by the person you loved most. The only person who ever truly knew you. It hurt you to realise that for him, you were forgettable, replaceable. It’s like all the years you spent together were nothing. Maybe it was spite mixed with sadness and desperation that made you accept Simon’s proposal last year. Polly was right,—all things end.

Walking to the altar with Johnny to give you away was something else. Simon was kind enough to let the Shelby’s come to the wedding. He provided them with rooms to stay at a hotel. You should have been happy but the dryness in your mouth says otherwise. His family were there, judging you for being a prostitute; judging him for marrying someone so penniless.

Simon’s smile was genuine, at least. He was waiting for you, a bundle of nerves. When you reach him, he thanks Polly. Taking your hand, he brings you to the ordainer and the wedding starts.

The reception of the wedding was in your new mansion in London. A real estate treasure with a little bit of plush green land. Your husband had a professional come in to decorate the garden—you never knew that a job like that existed.

“This house is so big!” Finn said, after he ran to you. He was playing with the other kids. “You’d let me visit you?”

“Of course, Finn.” you said, a smile on your face. “But you have to be with Ada or Polly,”

“Okay,” he says, a toothy grin. “Maybe I can bring Tommy too when he comes back.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Maybe…” Tommy. Tommy. Tommy. Would he appear if you called him in front of a mirror thrice? You just wanted to see him.

Simon comes to you and Finn.

“Hi, Finn,” he greets. “How are you?”

“Hi,” he says sheepishly, hiding behind your gown. “I’m good. Thanks for letting me come,”

“My wife really wanted you guys here and I really needed to see who’s the famous Finn Shelby,” he said.

“I was telling Y/N about how my brother, Tommy and I can visit sometime,” he said. You visibly tense at the mention of Tommy, Simon notices. You’ve talked about Tommy before. Tommy Shelby…

That night, after consummating your marriage, Simon asked.

“Who’s Tommy? I know who he is but what did he do?” Caressing your naked back, he pressed again. “Finn was telling me about his brother, and it made you uncomfortable.”

“He’s no one,” you lied, looking up at him through your lashes. “You shouldn’t worry about him,”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable…if he’s making you uncomfortable, I’ll have him dealt with.”

“No!” you cleared your throat. “You don’t have to, Simon. Thank you for caring,” you smiled, kissing his lips softly to forget about Tommy Shelby—the man who broke your heart.

NEW YORK, 1915

You were staying in one of your husband’s properties in America, a penthouse in New York when he came barging in, throwing you an envelope. He was angry, you could tell that clearly. He never got angry except now.

“Simon,” you said, smiling up at him.

“Who’s Tommy Shelby?” he asked, demanding you to answer. He knew who Tommy Shelby was. He knew of the Shelbys in Birmingham. But who was he to you? “Don’t even fucking lie to me,”

“What’s wrong…?”

“Who is he?” he asked, his tone more forceful now. “Don’t tell me that he’s no one! Who is he?”

“He’s a friend. A childhood friend. What is this about?” you asked. “Simon…”

“You told me during our wedding night that he was no one but I had him investigated,” he said. You furrowed your brows. “Guess what? I found out that you grew up together. You were seeing him while I was seeing you. You told me you love me!”

“I do love you,” you lied, trying to soothe his worries. “You don’t have to worry about him, you know? We didn’t see each other like that, Simon,”

“Fuck…I gave you my everything and you hang onto this Tommy Shelby cunt. Like, like…I had to buy your love and you gave it to him,” he said, stalking towards you. “I gave you everything! What could he give? He’s poor and he’s in the war. I’m here. I am!” he roared.

“Simon—“

“You are to cut off any ties and communications that you have with the Shelbys, understood?” he spat, pointing a finger at you.

“Simon, they’re my friends! They took care of me,” you pleaded, putting your hands on his waist to appease him but she just shrugs you off.

“I said ‘Understood’?” he seethed. “I gave the Shelby’s and Johnny a hefty sum of money so you won’t have to think of them ever again but you have to promise to never fucking think of them—of him—of-of your life in Birmingham. Do you understand me?”

“Simon, you—“

“I know where Tommy Shelby is in France. Tunnelling. You’ll know better than to defy me. Trust me, I have my ways of getting him and his brothers killed. I know people. Do you understand me?” he spits.

You couldn’t cry in front of him, so you just gulped, nodding.

“I understand,” you whispered, a frown set upon your face. Relief washes over your husband and he pulls you closer.

“You know that I only want what’s best for you. What’s best for us,” he whispered. “You’re my little bird. My beautiful flower, I won’t let anyone else have you. Okay? I’m sorry for making you sad but this is for the best. For us and for the family that we’re going to build,”

“I know, Simon,”

“I love you,” he says but it felt like a threat.

“I love you too,”

BIRMINGHAM, 1915

Tommy,

I hope you’re well. We all pray for your safe return home. Have I told you that Y/N got married this year in London? His name is Simon Coventry, I’m sure you know him as ‘Rich Bastard.’

He truly loves her and has taken care of her so well. We’ve been to their mansion in London multiple times. Finn loves to visit because he gets him everything he wants. Did you know that he gifted Finn his own horse for Christmas? Please, don’t worry about her anymore. She’s in safe hands, in a loving marriage, with a husband that could give her the world.

Pol

(This letter was never sent.)

BIRMINGHAM, 1911

“What do you think will happen to us?” you asked Tommy once. Twenty-one, and you allowed yourself to make bad decisions when it came to him. You were sitting close together in the balcony of your home; it was the morning, and you had the day off because it was your birthday. No serving customers today; Tommy didn’t go to work because you were free.

“We’ll stay together,” he says, like it was a no-brainer. He had stolen a bottle of whiskey in the place where he worked out and you both decided to drink today. Twenty-one and you’d make all bad decisions for Tommy. There was a crinkle in his eyes when he looked at you. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” you replied, taking a sip of the whiskey.

“I got you something,” he says, tossing his cigarette butt away. “It’s not as…expensive as what that rich bastard got you, but I was thinking that…well, here,” he says, showing you something wrapped in a handkerchief. ��Don’t know how to wrap gifts.”

You took it from him and undid the knot of the handkerchief.

“Tommy…”

“I asked Polly and Ada,” he says. “So, that’s not all me.”

A picture frame of pressed flowers. It was more than that for him. For Tommy, it was a declaration of his love; a life-long commitment to you.

“I’ve been picking flowers that remind me of you for the past year,” he tells you. “Do you like it?”

“I love it, Tom.” you told him, tackling him in a hug. “This is the best thing anyone has ever given me. Thank you so much,”

LONDON, 1916

Simon hardly allowed you to go anywhere without him or at least the presence of a bodyguard since last year. It was understandable, since he was a wealthy man—the world was too dangerous for him. But you couldn’t grasp why you needed his permission to go to the shops, why you needed to ask him if you could do something. Your wardrobe was chosen by him and you hardly had any control over that. The jewellery he bought were things he thought would look the best on you too.

You had to ask him for approval to meet your friends—if you had any. None of them really stayed longer than a year. It was fine, they were never him anyways. They all had ulterior motives when it came to seeking a friendship with you. They were all parties and dinners and events. One time, there was a party in his house. Some charity gathering that you couldn't care less about. You were outside in the garden when one of your employees walked by. You called him to where you were sitting.

“Can you please get me some water?” you asked. “I don’t really want to go back there right now,” you said. You spent the whole night portraying the happy wife; the younger wife and you were sick of it. To them, you were Simon Coventry’s wife. To him, you were somebody he owned. To yourself, you were a prostitute. He basically bought you from that brothel anyway. You sat there silently, allowing yourself to shed the tears that you’ve been keeping.

You were sobbing, trying to comfort your body from the loss of personhood that you’ve experienced. You were a glorified doll for Simon to look at—a pet to protect. He’s never treated you like an equal and you will never be.

Your hands were shaky, makeup staining your face. If only Simon could see you now. He’d lose it. You clutched the locket that Tommy gave you. You told Simon that you needed it, that it was a picture of your mother and that you didn’t want to forget what she looked like. It was shabby; he asked if you wanted a better one, but you declined. When Tommy gave you that locket, he helped you put a picture of your mother right beside his. You still needed to give it back to him.

In the quietness of the garden, you remembered Polly’s advice before your wedding. She was helping you fit into the gown when she started to talk quietly.

“Remember, this,” she started, zipping up your dress. “Take advantage of the world you’re in now. Even if you do not love him, take advantage of what he’s willing to give. Take advantage of everything.”

The employee comes back to you with a glass of water.

“Thanks,” you whispered. “You may go now,”

Simon loved your newfound interest in participating in his business. He always sought you in the brothel for advice. It didn’t matter if you never studied, what mattered was that you were correct. They were small matters in his company. Like, you told him that maybe he wanted to increase the bond to a partnership. Or that he had to host charity events to make his company more appealing; ensure that it was widely publicised.

You were perched on his lap, looking through the documents, while he played with your hair. He was kissing your shoulder as you flipped through the pages.

“Some of my investments have been transferred to your account,” he says and you look at him, surprised.

“Simon—?”

“You deserve it,” he says, continuing his kisses on your shoulder. “You’re my wife. You should have your own money,”

“But that’s…that’s too much,”

“Just enough for you to go on those shopping sprees, if you ever wanted anything,” he says.

“Why—“

“You’ve proven to me that I could trust you after our…disagreement about Tommy Shelby,” he declared. “I’m sorry for cutting you off from your friends in Birmingham, darling but I promise, that they’re being taken care of. Especially Johnny. He doesn’t work in the brothel anymore after I bought him his house in Watery Lane,”

“It’s okay,” relishing in the newfound power that you had over your husband. You turned to him, your knees on either side of his thighs. You straddled him and grasped his chin with your hands. “I know that you only want what’s best for me, right?” you preened, dropping your lips to nibble on his ear. “Tell me,”

He sighs, clutching your body closer to his as you trailed your lips down his neck.

“You’re so good to me, baby,” he moans. “So, so good. I’ll give you everything.”

FRANCE, 1917

Tommy had been injured and was sent to the wards immediately. There was a gaping wound on his chest when one of the tunnel rats shot him. His comrades were quick enough to retaliate; to put him above ground and call for help. He was on the hard bed, wondering if it would be easier to just give up and let the world take him.

“Y/N…” he mumbles, reaching for you. He could see you, see your arms beckoning him to come closer.”Y/N…where…Y/N…”

He mumbles your name over and over for what seemed like an eternity. He couldn’t say anything else, pleading with anyone.

“Just fucking kill me!” he shouts. “Fucking kill me, please…” he sobs, body shaking from the emotions that dwell inside. “Y/N! Y/N! Fucking kill me!” In…in-in the bleak midwinter…Y/N. Y/N.

AMERICA, 1917

“How is it being married to Simon?” one of the guests in some event asked. She was supposed to be the wife of a big oil conglomerate. Simon’s father invested in their business awhile back and had been business partners since.

“He’s kind,” you said. He is…you just can’t love him like that. “It’s amazing being married to him,”

“I see,” she replied. “May I ask where you met again?”

“We met in Birmingham,” was your meek answer, looking for your husband. You hated events like these. The heir and his younger wife. You hated everything about it. Where is he?

“What family are you from?” she asked, oblivious to the fact. Everyone was oblivious to that fact. Simon made sure to never let anyone know that you were a prostitute. ‘For your safety’ he said and you understood. She said that she’ll never forgive you for tainting her wonderful son but Simon said that it was okay. You both didn’t need anyone else.

“Sorry—do you happen to know where Simon is?” you asked, trying to change the topic.

“Can’t stay away from him too long, huh? You must really love him,” she gushed. “I hope I’m the same with my husband but our union was basically something that was already agreed upon,”

“Yeah, I do,” you half-lied. You loved Simon as a friend, as a companion. He tries his best to understand. He’s loving and as far as you were aware, hadn’t kept any mistresses. That came with a price, though. Simon never liked it when a man looks at you too long. He doesn’t like seeing you with the opposite sex. He didn’t like you exchanging pleasantries with them. “He’s the best. He allows me to help him out in the business, you know?”

“You’re involved in his business?” she asked.

“Small things,” you replied. “Arranging charity balls and the like,”

“Your governess must have been a good one,” she replied.

“I suppose so.” You lied, knowing that you could never have been able to afford one. You were living day to day when you were a kid.

The girl only smiled tightly before walking away. You watched her talk to other girls. How beautiful it is to be included in a group! You’ve always felt like an outsider. This room was filled with billionaires and millionaires. This room made up most of the world’s economy and you were a prostitute. You were in the nicest clothes that money could afford but it still felt like the same, cheap lace that you used to wear. You turned to look for your husband but he was already wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Simon,” you greeted, kissing his cheek. You were relieved to see him, somehow.

“Hello, darling. Do you wish to meet my friends?” he asked, kissing the side of your head affectionately.

“Of course,” you nodded, seeing the girl you were talking to with her own husband now. Simon took you to them, never letting your waist go.

“Simon!” the husband greeted, regarding you with a swift look before shaking your husband’s hand. “Is she the wife or a mistress?” he asked, and you frowned.

“The wife,” Simon replied honestly. “Don’t have a mistress,”

“What about that bird you were seeing in…Small Heath? Is it Small Heath?” he asked.

“Haven’t been there since I got married,” he replied. It was true. “By the way, Eric, I do hope your wife watches what she talks about with her other…friends,” he said, and you tilted your head in confusion. The girl looks down in shame.

“What do you mean?” Eric asked. “Surely, Natalia only wished to make an acquaintance. Is that right, Nat?”

“Yes, of course. Whatever Y/N was saying must be untrue,” she said, feigning innocence.

“I see. I must have been delirious when I heard your wife call Y/N boring,” he shrugged. “Anyways, if I see or hear you disrespect my wife one more time, there will be repercussions. Seeing as you’re financially unwell, I would hate to take out my shares in your company. Isn’t that right?”

“Of course, Simon,” Eric coughed, glaring at Natalia. “I apologise, Mrs. Coventry,”

You could only nod before Simon whisked you away.

“Let’s go home. No one’s worth talking to in this shit hole anyway,”

When you got in the car, Simon was already all over you. He was tugging on your sleeves, kissing your neck. You were used to this; the driver was used to this.

“Did I ever tell you that you looked absolutely ravishing in this dress?” he growled, fisting the silk fabric. “The things you do to me, pet,”

“I dressed up just for you,” you whimper. “Do you like it?” You may not love him but he was good. Maybe it’s because you’ve known each other for years…or maybe, you’re more comfortable but Simon was good at what he does. He puts your needs first. In any case, that’s how he likes it. This is what you’ve been doing for about two years. Giving everything that Simon ever wanted from you and taking double back from him. You were wealthy on your own now. If you divorced Simon, you’d never have to worry about life anymore. He had put trusts, investments, and properties in your name that he promised he’d never take away. It was sealed in a document. You were his closest kin. You own everything.

Except your freedom.

“Of course I do,” he confirms, rutting his hips on your exposed thigh. He groans at the contact. “Fuck, are we close?” he asked the driver.

“Twenty minutes, sir,” he replied.

“I’ll triple your salary for the month if you could take us there in ten,” he proposes and the driver speeds up, never minding the laws of the road.

LONDON, 1918

The war has ended and you were close to collapsing. There could only be two things—the brothers made it or they did not. You didn’t have any form of communication with them and you were nervous. What if they didn’t make it?

BIRMINGHAM, 1918

The boys were deployed in Birmingham. Cramped in vehicles, Tommy held the strap of his satchel tightly. He was anxious to see his family. He was so anxious to see you. He never received letters from you even though he wrote every week. He was too afraid that he'd turn his back on his country to come to you but he didn’t care. What kind of man would that make of him?

There were a million things that he wanted to tell you—how he left without ever telling you that he loved you. How your face was the only thing that kept him alive in those tunnels. Would you still love him now that he’s not the same? Would you still soothe him until he falls asleep?

His brothers could see his nervousness. So, Arthur offered him a tight smile. John was looking forward to seeing his kids again.

“She’ll be there, Tom,” Arthur offered. “If anyone’s going to be there, it’s her,”

“Yeah, of course,” Tommy replied. They were nearing Birmingham. They were nearing the place you both grew up in and he felt bad because he should have been thinking about his family but instead, he was thinking about you. The vehicle stops and he takes a deep breath. Will he see you? Will you run to him and finally kiss him like he’s been thinking of for four years? He braced himself as soldiers spilled out into the road. He could see Polly and Charlie with Finn on his shoulders. He smiled, telling his brothers that he saw everyone.

“You boys are back!” Polly gushed, taking the three of them in an embrace. She blinks away the tears. Tommy was searching the crowd for you and Polly could see that. “She couldn’t make it, Tom. She’s in London,”

His heart drops. Why would you miss this reunion? Why were you in London? He nodded wordlessly, keeping to himself while John answered all of the questions. The day after that, he went to your house but saw that nobody was there. He went to the brothel but there were new girls who didn't know who you were. Johnny wasn’t there either.

He went there every day for less than two weeks until one day, he saw a scrap of newspaper sitting in the kitchen.

SIMON AND Y/N COVENTRY PURCHASE NEW HOME IN PARIS AFTER THE WAR.

He furrowed his brows, turning the pages until sure enough, there you were. It was a portrait of you and Simon. He barged into Polly’s room, opening the drawer where she kept memorabilia. There were multiple pictures of you and your wedding with Simon. There was a picture of you and the whole Shelby clan along with Johnny. There was an envelope with a cheque worth a few thousand pounds from Simon. He shook, his heart beating loudly as he let go of everything. You were married. You married Simon Coventry. You didn't wait for him.

“Tommy,” Ada whispers from the door, seeing her older brother crouch in defeat.

“When were you planning to tell me?” he spat. “When?”

“Tommy, we didn’t know how to tell you—“

“Tell me when the fuck were you planning to tell me, Ada or I swear, I will blow this fucking house down,” he threatened, running his fingers through his hair. It’s not the same when you do it. Ada walked towards her brother, seeing her brother so defeated was something new.

“I…” his voice breaks into a sob. “I was under the tunnels and all I could ever think—all I could—I’m smoking fucking opium because I’m so fucking worried and she’s—she’s,” Tommy couldn’t breathe, hyperventilating. “She’s gone, she’s gone…”

There was a ringing in his ears, and he couldn’t hear Ada call for help. He was panicking, tears flowing freely from his eyes. He waited for you. He counted the days until he saw you again, but you were not here. He felt like he was underground again. It was Arthur who calmed him down, slapping Tommy across the face to wake him up. It works, it always works.

“Leave us,” Polly ordered everyone. “Drink some water, Tommy, we have to talk,”

“Pol—“

“Leave us,”

“Polly, it’s not right!” Ada said. “I should’ve listened to her when she told me she didn’t want it,”

“He has to know, Ada. I’ll tell him now,”

“It’s alright, Ada,” he croaked. “Leave us,” His brother dragged his furious sister away. He was embarrassed to have been seen like that—weak. But what else could he do? He crossed the vastness of a sea of fire just to go home to you. Polly sighed.

“It’s my fault,” she said once everyone was out. He exhales, a staggered breath as if he’s been carrying all the weight of love that he has for you.

“It’s all I ever wanted, Pol,” he said, looking down on his lap. A life with you in your home. There’d be a big garden for you to run on. You’ll have so many horses and you'll teach your kids how to ride them. “You know that it’s all I ever wanted,”

“I know, Tom but you can’t blame her,” she said. “She didn’t want to leave and I saw that but what else could she be if she didn’t leave Birmingham? I prayed for your safety everyday, I did. But…but what if you didn’t come back? Would she work at that brothel until she fades? There was an opportunity for her to have a better life outside of Birmingham. I told her to take advantage of it,” she explained, trying to reach Tommy but he flinched away. Polly puts down her hand, clearing her throat.

“She’s all I ever wanted, Polly and you took that from me. You took her-you took her away from me!” he sobbed, cradling his head in his hands. “You took her away. You took her away…”

“She sent you letters while you were away,” Polly said, placing a stack of envelopes beside Tommy. “I’m sorry, Tom but I wanted her to have a good life. Birmingham isn't good for her. You were only going to keep her from making a name for herself,”

Polly nodded to herself before leaving Tommy and a stack of letters that he never received.

He opens the one on top just to check—just today.

Dear Tommy,

Every day passes by without you and I still can’t bear it. I hope you’re well, I hope my letters become a sense of comfort for you.

It’s getting harder for me to spend time with your family. All I could think about was how the two of us would run freely in Polly’s house because you were chasing after me. I couldn’t spend time at home either because my bed reminds me of how much I liked sleeping beside you. It’s so peaceful. I sleep in your clothes sometimes and Ada gave me some of the shirts that you left. I’ll return them to you when you’re back but right now, it’s the only way for me to feel like I could breathe…that someday, you’ll come back to me. I’ll wait. I’ll always wait for you, like I promised.

I haven’t told you everything yet, but I hope I can tell you soon.

Tommy opens another one. What’s another stab to the heart anyway?

Dear Tommy,

It’s been years and you haven't written back. Are you mad at me? I’ll stop writing to you for the meantime but just know that I’ll wait for you.

LONDON, 1919

Dearest,

I’m so sorry to tell you but Johnny has died. Please come to Birmingham soon.

The letter from Johnny’s wife shook in your hands. Big Johnny was dead, and you had to go to Birmingham to the funeral. You ran to your husband’s office. Upon seeing your tear-stained face, his face falls in concern.

“What the matter, love? Did someone hurt you?” he asked, patting his lap, telling you to sit on it. You complied, hiccuping. You were heartbroken but you knew that if you wanted to go, you had to play smart. You had to play the broken doll that he loved to take care of.

“Johnny’s dead,” you whispered, burying your face in his chest. You allowed him the privilege to soothe you. His hand inching their way underneath your shirt for unbridled contact. “Johnny’s dead, Simon,” you cried. “I—I got this…letter,” you said, showing him the crumpled piece of paper on your hand. He had to fire whoever gave you this letter—it was a strict rule that he was supposed to read all the letters sent to you. It was a rule that no letter from Birmingham must arrive in your hands.

“Oh, darling,” he said, kissing your temple.

“I know…I know that I can’t go,” you said. “But…can I please go, Simon?” you asked. “He was like my father,” you whispered. It was true and Simon knew that. Johnny took care of you to the best of his abilities. You told Simon of the stories when you were younger. Him teaching you arithmetic, teaching you how to throw a punch to defend yourself…he helped you move into the house you bought. You’ve never been there for years, and you wondered if Ada continued to take care of it after abandoning them. “I understand if you won’t allow me,” you nodded, removing yourself away from him but he held you closer.

“You can go,” he whispered. He’d have you guarded so that no one could even come to you. No Tommy Shelby. “Do you want me to come?”

“No,” you shook your head, regaining your composure. “I know that the partnership with Alfie Solomons will require your full attention. Do you promise to be home once I arrive? I need you,” You stilled on his chest.

You didn’t know what a lie was anymore.

“Of course, I’ll be here,” he said.

“I can take some of the guards with me for my safety,” you compromised. You weren’t lying, though. The business he had with Alfie Solomons kind of scared you. What if he sent men to take you as ransom?

“Of course,” he said. “Where will you stay? Are there hotels there?”

“I can stay at my old home.” you said. “We can send in some cleaners before I arrive to make it nice,”

“Alright, darling. Are you leaving tomorrow? I’ll send some people now. Will that be okay with you?” he asked. You looked up to him, doe-eyed.

“Yes,” you replied. “Thank you, Simon. I love you,” you said, kissing his cheek. “Thank you.”

BIRMINGHAM, 1919

The Blinders mentioned to Arthur that the old house that Ada takes care of had the lights on. There were multiple servants coming in and out of the run-down house and they asked who was coming. It was the owner of the house. That could only mean…

“Tommy!” Arthur called, nodding at Harry before barging in the special room at the Garrison. “Stop fucking the barmaid and listen to me, mate,”

Grace looks at him sheepishly before excusing herself.

“Fuck, what is it Arthur?” Tommy asked, lighting a cigarette.

“Y/N’s coming back,” he said. Tommy halts, looking at Arthur.

“Arthur—“

“The Blinders saw the lights at her old house open with a fuck ton of servants cleaning up. They asked…told her that the owner of the house is coming back to go to a fucking funeral,” Arthur explained. “She’s coming back, mate. Your Y/N’s coming back.”

Tommy leans on the couch, running a hand through his face. He wordlessly leaves Arthur, not sparing a glance to Grace, before leaving the Garrison entirely. It was midnight, you could be home soon. In the shadows, Tommy waited, his peaky cap making him incognito.

He waited the whole night, smoking his cigarette and looking at the spot where your house could be seen clearly. At around six in the morning, he sees a convoy of high end cars line up. A black Bentley stopped right in front of the house and there you were. Tommy’s breath is knocked out of his lungs. You were dressed in something simple and comfortable for your travel but you’ve never looked so ethereal. The driver gives you his hand to help you and you smile at him. Looking around the place, peace settles in your features.

He doesn’t realise it but his face relaxes too. It’s like he hasn’t breathed in all the years he spent without you. He gulps, not allowing himself to cry. He’s stronger now and he couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him.

He looked on, noticing that Simon Coventry was not with you. It was then he realised that guards dressed formally surrounded your house. It didn’t matter to him. Fuck your husband’s security system. He’ll make a way. Just because there was a change of plans doesn’t mean that you can begin again. He doesn’t care.

You were here. You were finally home, and he wonders if the frame he gave you on your 21st birthday was still there.

PART 3

A/N: Grace will not be romantically involved with Tommy in the story for obvious reasons. There will be mentions of her but they will be minimal. Thank you so much for reading and for giving my story love and support. I hope to see you in the next one!

BTW, we need a face for Simon. Who do you think will be a perfect Simon?

Don’t forget to reblog / leave a comment if you liked it! TAGLIST: @shelbydelrey @runnning-outof-time @duckybird101 @thenattitude @swordofawriter @litteltourtius @trixie23 @everythingelseisextra @majesticcmey @liveat1am @dumb-wh @denabp16 @yvonna-chan @goldensunflowe-r @therosabel @hunnibearrr @dazecrea @daddyslittleattentionwhore @the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf @dang-shawty-okay

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders #fafic #fanfiction #angst #fluff #tommy shelby fluff #protection!tommy #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader

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