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miss-fanfictions · 15 hours

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Sundays at the Library | Spencer Reid x Reader

Pairing] Spencer Reader x glasses wearing! shy! librarian! fem!Reader

Synopsis] Spencer talks to the sweet librarian at his new library and slowly Sundays become his favorite day of the week.

Warnings] Cursing, creepy guy, misunderstandings (but its cute I promise), written from Spencer's POV

Word Count] 8.9k

Author's Note] This is my first fic here! I'm planning on doing a few more parts to this, so this is only the beginning 🙃

The first time Spencer saw you, the encounter wasn’t anything special.

If he wasn’t working, he was reading, and because he can read 20,000 thousand words per minute, he needed new books often. Not even his FBI salary could afford the amount of books he consumed in a month and his cozy apartment certainly couldn’t contain them all. Already his bookcases were spilling out onto nearby surfaces. So to quench his constant need for new books, Spencer borrowed books from the library. However, since the one near his apartment closed just a week ago, he had to find a new one. That led him to drive to the library ten minutes away.

It was larger than the one down the street from his apartment—it had a full three floors. Beyond the double doors, he followed two velvet rope barriers onto the main floor of the library, wandering past a grand front desk to his left to where the room divided into two sections and the barriers ended. In the left section, beside the desk, there were a couple computers set up, as well as two printers and a side wall dedicated to DVDs. In the other section there were tables and chairs set up for quiet studying, as well as more comfortable lounges for reading. Behind those two sections started the book shelves, nearly ceiling high and organized via genre and then further alphabetized. When he ascended the staircase at the back of the main floor, he found the upper levels were fully dedicated to rows of shelving containing books, interspersed with a few tables and lounges for reading.

He spent approximately 45 minutes getting the layout of the library, as large as it was, and finding the books he wanted to read. Of course, he got a range of books. Two books on psychology, a mathematical textbook, and another two books based in the sciences. A bit of light reading, really, just to occupy his time at home during a busy caseload week.

He balanced the heavy books awkwardly in his arms as he made his way to the front desk, practically dropping them onto the counter. His lips twisted up in embarrassment, glancing around to see if anyone was disturbed by the loud clatter. When his eyes turned back to the desk, they met the bespeckled ones of you, the librarian, seated behind the counter. They were wide behind the frames, doe-like and startled by the noise. He winced and stuttered out an apology.

Too often he embarrassed himself due to his clumsiness. Over the years, Spencer got a lot better at the shooting range, but he still couldn’t run a mile without tripping a few times, or be able to participate in sports, and he didn’t even want to think about his driving. JJ often compared the experience of being in his passenger seat to riding shotgun with her senile grandmother. No matter what he did, the awkwardness crept in and all he could do was apologize. He didn’t mean to startle the nice librarian who he would seeing every week for the foreseeable future.

“It’s fine,” your voice was a gentle whisper, perfect for the quiet of the library. You closed the book on your lap and placed it out of sight under the counter, standing up to help him. That’s when he could take you in completely, with your long flowy skirt and oversized sweater. Perhaps a shy attempt to battle the chill running through the library, or maybe a purposeful effort to hide yourself away from prying eyes. He could tell—despite your attire—that you were his age or maybe a little younger. You lacked the wrinkles, grays, and even the weathered dullness associated with age. Your hair was done up messily, effortlessly, and his eyes tracked your chewed up fingernails as you tucked a few strands behind your ears, out of the way of your eyesight.

He thought you were plain and shy. The soft pastels and neutrals that colored your clothes and the fact the garments covered you so entirely, made you blend into the background. Had he not needed to speak to you directly, he might not have noticed you tucked behind the desk, folded up in your chair with your nose deep in a book.

“Can I check these out for you?” You asked him, and he almost missed it due to both his staring and your airy cadence.

“Oh, uh, yes,” he said, then quickly added. “And a library card, please. I’m new to this library.”

“I’ll just need an ID then,” you held out your hand while he rummaged through his wallet for his state ID, and when he placed it into your palm he was careful not to touch your hand. It was less about you as a person as it was his disdain for germs.

You went about clicking and typing at the computer to the side of the desk, face plain as if whatever you were doing you had done a thousand times. Your nimble fingers only stuttered when you glanced back at him, catching his eyes as he watched you before he darted them away from your face, caught. Quickly, you grabbed the mouse, clicking only three more times before handing back his ID. He was careful not to touch your hand or meet your eyes as he took it back.

He didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with his staring, he had a habit of it, always trying to profile. But you were just a meek librarian, and there was no reason to take note of your behavior. You went about printing out a physical copy of his new library card, and he opened one of his books to occupy himself as you did so.

When you turned back to him, you scanned a plastic card before offering it to him with a small smile. “Thank you,” he mumbled as you went about scanning the books on the counter with the same barcode reader. You were on the fourth book when your brows creased and you looked back up at him.

“Are you studying?” You asked, the words sudden as if you couldn’t hold the thought off your lips.

“No, this is just some light reading,” he answered politely, because it was. Though he forgot that was maybe not normal, because you giggled at his reply.

The sound brought his eyes to your lips, the way they parted to let the breathy noise out. It was a unique giggle, though he supposed everyone’s is, but something about it suited you so completely. It was soft, and when he glanced around the library to see that no one else had heard it, he thought it was also just for him. There was no taunting, just joy that you emitted in the most delicate of sounds. If only he could understand what he did to extract it from you.

“Right,” You said jokingly, and then he thought maybe you didn’t believe him, but he didn’t get a chance to assure you he was being truthful before you finished checking out the books. “Here you go, have a nice day, Spencer.”

He hesitated, thrown off by your use of his name, but cleared his throat and collected his books nonetheless. He thanked you and mumbled a brief goodbye as he did so, not looking back as he rushed out of the library. When he got to his car, he used a pack of disinfectant wipes on the books and set them up in his passenger seat, thoughts of the little librarian withering away to the casework waiting for him at work tomorrow.

—

He finished the books quickly, in only two days actually, but thankfully most of his time was taken up by his work. In his remaining free hours, he resorted to rereading a few books on his shelves. On Sunday, he collected his library books and drove the ten minutes back to his new library, exactly one week since his last visit.

The inside was chilly and smelled like old paper and leather. There weren't many people he could see on the main floor, a few of what looked like college students spread out studying and some preteens huddled on the computers, whispering snarks and giggles. He walked up to the front desk, following the rug and the velvet rope barriers that led right to it from the entrance. This time he didn’t pass by the desk, but stopped at it to place down his books—quietly.

Your familiar framed eyes looked up at him, just as doe-like as surprise crossed them right before a smile took hold. Again, you closed the book in your lap, though this time Spencer caught a glimpse of its orange and yellow cover before you hid it from sight. He couldn’t make out the title. “Back so soon?”

It had been exactly a week since he’d seen you, and though he had not thought of you much since then, Spencer was incapable of forgetting a face. You looked just as you did last week—messy updo, baggy clothes, bare face. It seemed that was your natural state, or at least what you wore to work, but what Spencer wore to work was pretty much his normal wardrobe and he worked in the FBI, not a library.

“Yes, I need to return these books,” he told you, returning your smile with a quirk of his lips and placing his library card on top of the stack of books.

When your eyes roamed back down from his to the five books, your brows furrowed. “Give up on studying then?” You asked, scanning the books back into the system.

For a moment, Spencer was confused, then he recalled every word of your last interaction, and realized you still thought he checked the books out to study them, likely for some graduate classes, given his age. “No, I wasn’t studying them. I just needed a few books for casual reading after work.”

You paused once you turned to the computer, looking at him down your glasses. “Casual reading?” Your eyes went back between the thick books and his face, a smirk of disbelief growing. “You read all these books in a week?”

“Yes.” He shrugged.

“For fun?” You had a skeptical eyebrow quirked.

“That’s what casual reading normally implies.” Spencer furrowed his brows at your line of questioning. Maybe most people wouldn’t read such topics simply for fun, but why would he lie about that?

At that, you giggled again, a bird’s song, and resumed clicking at your computer. Your gentle laugh tickled something deep in his chest. Again, there was no malice or ill intent to it, not any that he could see behind your genuine eyes and smile. You simply thought he was a funny guy, and no one ever thought that of Spencer. He was too awkward, or too serious, or even too annoying to be fun.

You took the stack of books in your arms, the pile reaching right up to your chin, and walked them to a cart behind you. When you turned back, you were still smiling sweetly at him. “Your light reading has been checked back in.” You slid his library card across the counter.

He plucked the card back off it with a thanks, tucking it into the pocket of his sweater vest. For a moment, he debated telling you about his PhDs, his eidetic memory, and maybe even his genius IQ because Spencer always felt the need to prove himself—to state facts—because he wasn’t the funny guy. He was very serious and all the things he was telling you weren’t just silly jokes. Then he worried he might wipe the smile right off your face, and he couldn’t let himself do that. So instead he gave you a stiff nod and continued into the library.

. . . Only to spin right back around, fist awkwardly pressed against his lips. “Oh, also, what is the maximum amount of books I could have checked out at once?”

You had just cracked the spine of your book again when you looked back up at him, a swirling look of confusion on your face. “Ten books, but you don’t have any out so I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Spencer gave another nod, spinning back around on his heels and taking himself right up to the second floor of the library. He spent approximately 37 minutes collecting books from around the library, setting them aside at tables as he weaved through the rows of bookcases for the different genres. A wealth of knowledge in all areas was useful for his job, and also just for him personally. He found great pride in knowing many things, as annoying as others might find his incessant info-dumping.

When he finished, he took a stack of books from the table and carried them down from the second floor, slowly stepping down the stairs and craning his neck around the stack to watch his steps. He could be uncoordinated at his best, so there was no need to tempt fate into sending him tumbling down the staircase by not paying attention.

After successfully making it down, he took long strides to the main desk and set the stack down on the counter. Of course, you looked up at him again, however skipped surprise and jumped into an inviting smile. You closed your book and stood up, taking in the books he set in front of you. “Another five to check out then?”

“No, actually, I’ll be right back.” He turned away so fast he almost missed the way your smile faded and you leaned over the counter to watch him ascending the stairs again, spindly legs taking them two at a time.

He grabbed hold of the second tower of books, nearly dropping the top one in his haste to get back to you. After that he continued to take the stairs carefully even as he felt your eyes on him. Maybe especially because he felt your eyes on him, because if you watched him fall down the stairs he’d have to drive an additional ten minutes away to find another new library, because he certainly wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes anymore.

Beside the first stack on the counter, he set the second, then placed his library card between them. “This is it, I promise.”

Again, you glanced between him and the books, eyes bugging behind their glass shelter. After a moment or so, as if you were making sure he was serious (he was), you began scanning his card and the books. Despite the larger quantity of books, you were slower as you ran the barcodes on the back, taking the time to read the titles and authors.

“Are you a graduate student?” You asked, looking at a book on human genealogy.

Spencer twiddled his thumbs. “No, I’m finished with school for now, but I might go back for another PhD in the future when I have more time,” he answered honestly, the words flowing out quickly, even though he wasn’t sure why he was telling you that. Only about two percent of the U.S. population has a PhD, and an even slimmer percent had more than one. So it was an unusual thing to say.

He thought you might laugh again, or even question him, but you simply hummed and moved onto the next book, chewing your lip. “I’m in a graduate program for poetry,” your voice was quiet, as required by the library environment, but more so than usual, like you seemed embarrassed to share that information.

It made sense you were a graduate student working in a library while earning your MA in writing. He wondered if you had plans for your degree beyond getting a slight pay increase as a librarian. There was a career as an author, or maybe you wanted to be a teacher or a professor, he could see you doing that, standing in front of a class in your skirts and sweaters pointing at a chalkboard with a ruler, though that image was outdated. More likely you’d be in front of a white board or presenting from a projector.

“That’s interesting. I find myself reading a lot of nonfiction recently—it helps more with my job, though I also just enjoy facts and statistics—but I’ll always have a special appreciation for fiction. I’m fond of poetry in particular because it’s created for multifaceted analysis,” even in his own whisper, the words were breathy and fast. He had to catch his tongue between his teeth when he caught your eyes trailing back up to him. “What do you plan on doing with your degree?”

“Write poetry hopefully,” the words came out in a gust of wind and your eyebrows quirked up, as if you didn’t believe even your own dream. “Maybe you can analyze it one day.” You finished scanning out the books, putting them back into two neat piles as you did. You went about clicking at your computer, making sure the books were grayed out in the system, avoiding his eyes.

So you did want to be a writer then. He could easily see that as well. Though he got the sense you didn’t believe your aspiration was attainable, and it likely wasn’t due to lack of skill. He told himself he wouldn’t profile you, but he did it practically subconsciously. Your lowered gaze, modest clothes, shy smile, and even chewed nails all pointed to a lack of confidence in yourself. He wasn’t sure why. You were pretty in your own right, and were clearly intelligent and hard working if your pursuit of a masters degree said anything. If you needed a little encouragement, the least he could do was give it to you. “I look forward to it,” he said, and he was just as sincere as he always had been.

It only seemed to increase your embarrassment, causing your face to shy further away from his gaze. “Thank you, Spencer.” Even if you couldn’t look at him, your tone was of genuine appreciation, and if he tilted his head just right, he could see the wisp of a smile on your face.

He nodded with a tight lipped smile, staring at you while he waited for the conversation to continue, only to realize you’d finished with his books and it was over. His hands stuttered to gather up the first heap of books, muttering about how he’d be back. However he only got a few paces when he heard you say his name again, feet stopping dead.

“Would you like me to help you carry these out?” You were already trying to get a hold on the books.

Quickly, he shook his head. “No,” the words came out abrupt and firm, louder than he’d ever spoken before in the library, and you flinched.

“You shouldn’t be following anyone out of here to their cars. This library has a disturbing lack of cameras and an abduction, even in a public area, can happen in less than ten seconds. It’s safest for you to remain in the library and follow the good practice of having someone walk you to your car after your shifts.” Spencer felt obligated to warn you strictly, because your distinct quietness and sweetness made you the perfect prey for the killers he hunted daily.

Though he almost regretted it as he watched the way your hands retreated from the books, crossing around yourself, and the gentle smile became forced. “Oh. I–I guess I’ll keep that in mind.”

Spencer nodded and hesitated, but didn’t linger much longer before exiting the library and heading back to his car. He was quick to toss the books into his car, your tangled smile stuck in his mind. Was it an odd thing to say? He was only trying to warn you, to keep you safe. But the look on your face, you didn’t seem at all grateful for the advice. Spencer took brisk strides back to the library entrance. You were standing there behind the front desk, arms still crossed, a distant look on your face. When you heard him approaching the counter taking in breath just a little faster from boardline jogging back, you barely spared him a glance. He scared you a bit, he realized, and he didn’t want to leave you like that.

He paused beside his leftover books, wetting his lips. “I didn’t mean to scare you with what I said before.” He finally caught your eyes and you seemed to hear him out. “I work in law enforcement, for the FBI actually, and all too often I see cases of nice girls like you who go missing just because you want to help people. Unfortunately it’s a pretty common ruse. So, I—I didn’t tell you all that to make you worry, but because I want you to be safe,” he admitted, and your face softened again, your hands falling back to the counter. It brought a smile to his own face to see you relax your guard again. “It’d also be awful if my librarian went missing. Who will check out the heap of books I keep bringing you?”

You giggled, your lips pulling into a toothy smile. “It’d definitely suck, but I’d hope you’d put those FBI skills of yours into finding me.”

Spencer chuckled, ducking his head into his chest to quiet the sound as he pulled his books into his arms. “Of course I would, and I wouldn’t stop until I did.” He was good at his job, he never stopped until he found their victim, their unsub.

You bowed your own head, hand holding your glasses to keep them from slipping down your nose. “Goodbye, Spencer.” You gave him a small wave with the other hand, ending the conversation with averted eyes, but he still noticed the growing color in your cheeks.

He fumbled with his own wave under the stack of books, really just an outward flash of the fingers he could manage to peel away for a second, and he was glad you weren’t looking at him with how awkward it was. He turned on his heel, pink growing in his own cheeks, and exited the library again for the final time today. The gears in his head grinded the whole way to the car and continued as he grappled to get into it and wiped the books with disinfectant.

You lingered in his mind longer than a librarian should have. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to warn you, to explain himself to you, or even comfort you. There was something about you, as meek and bashful as you were, that he found charming. Perhaps he saw himself in you, the insecurity. Or maybe it was how different you were from his job, where he was met with the most wicked minds and evil acts. You in comparison were the very image of innocence and life, in your pastel purples and yellows, lively eyes magnified behind glass, and your—your laugh. He liked your giggle. Even though he suspected at times it meant you didn’t fully believe him, he let you find him unserious, just so he could continue to hear that sweet sound tickle his ears in a way that scratched an itch inside him.

He was sitting in the parking lot staring out the windshield lost in his thoughts of you. When someone walked by, he found himself clearing his throat and finally putting his car in drive. You dissipated from his mind as he pulled out of the parking space because his Sunday at the library was over.

—

It took five days for him to finish the ten books from the library. The team was in California from Tuesday through Thursday, but he took four books with him to read during his down time and while on the jet. He still ended up with spare time that he spent shopping with Penelope and babysitting Henry for JJ and Will’s date night. It was for this reason he was glad to be back in the library on Sunday.

Inside he was hit with the familiar crisp air and the vague smell of paper and coffee. The tables to the left had quite a few more students than usual, though there were not very many to start with previously. He wondered if a bout of exams were coming up. As Spencer neared the front desk, he could smell something else, a faint vanilla scent maybe.

You were there as always, standing this time, and almost leaning over the counter to see the door. You smiled when you saw him and he realized that you must be wearing perfume, because around you the vanilla air became thicker.

“Sunday at 11am. You're more reliable than my alarm clock,” you hummed cheekily.

Spencer set the books he held in his hands on the counter, his messenger bag following them up. “Having a routine is actually really good for you. It’s been proven to reduce anxiety and stress and also helps people to cope with certain mental illnesses,” he told her, pulling the rest of his books out of his bag.

If you were thrown off by his fact telling, you didn’t show it. “That makes sense. I like having a routine, but I’m pretty sure my friends think it makes me boring.”

Spencer dug around in his vest pocket for his library card, brows furrowing. “Why would you think that?”

You plucked it from his fingers, bringing it to the barcode reader without breaking your eye contact. “Because they say it to me all the time.”

“Oh,” Spencer snorted a little and clutched the strap of his bag closer. There’s something different about you today. You’re much more talkative and playful, but it’s also in your appearance too. Your glasses are still perched on your nose and your face is bare as it always is, but your updo is more put together, less stands fall away into your face. You wear another long skirt, but it's tighter, less flowy, and he can nearly make out the shape of your legs through it. You’re wrapped in a cardigan too, but where one side falls open he can see your tank top underneath and the sight of your skin has him clearing his throat and bringing his eyes back to your face.

“And how was your recreational reading?” You’ve started to scan the books back into the system. “You must have been pretty entertained with ten books in seven days.” You state it like a fact, but your tone has a whimsical disbelief to it.

“Actually I finished them in five days,” he corrected with an incline of his head.

You reply quickly, like the words were primed in your mind. “Then you should have come back sooner.” Under the teasing, you sound serious, looking up from the books at him, lashes fluttering against their glass encasement.

“I would, but I’ve been pretty busy at work.” He was too. He would spend hours in the library reading if working at the BAU didn’t take up so much of his time. He loved his job of course, and he wouldn’t have it any other way, but what is someone with his talents to do but hole himself up gorging every book he can get his hands on. Spencer had a thirst for knowledge, that’s why he wanted to be in the library so much.

“Well, that’s too bad then. What do you do for work?” Your head tilts with interest and he almost mirrors the movement, brows furrowed.

“I told you—I work for the FBI. Specifically, I’m an agent in the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” He has an eidetic memory which means he can remember every word you’ve said to him and every word he’s ever said to you, so he knows he’s told you this before. Of course he knows people forget things, but they also normally remember when he tells them he’s in the FBI.

Your face falls a bit and you chew your bottom lip, brows creasing. “Oh. . . right.” You finish scanning the last book quickly, gathering a couple into a pile to carry to a cart behind you.

Spencer’s not exactly sure what he’s done to upset you, but his fingers twitch with the itch to fix it. Unfortunately, he’s got the idea his job is what makes you so uncomfortable. It wouldn’t be the first time someone was unsettled by the fact he carried a badge and gun, or that he had the authority to arrest people. But you had joked about it last week, possibly were soothed by the fact he was a cop after his blunt and maybe eerie warning. So why were you suddenly so upset with him?

The thought occurred to him then that maybe it was because you didn’t completely believe the things he was saying. Not only that, but you were no longer finding whatever game you think he’s playing by telling you those things to be funny. As you carry the rest of the books back to the cart, he fidgets with his fingers, wondering if it was time to show you proof of what he’s been saying. Or did you really even care? Maybe he was wrong and you would be even more frightened by him presenting you with his badge. Was it odd to flash his FBI credentials at his librarian? That was all you were after all. He didn’t even know your name.

You were back to clicking at the computer when you glanced at him. “They’re all checked in.”

Spencer froze as you pulled him out of his thoughts, his hands locking in the joints before dropping to his sides into fists. That was your cue for him to leave. “Right, thank you.” He went to walk away, but his feet were stuck. “. . .thank you, um, I just realized I don’t know your name.”

You didn’t have to tell him, you could have brushed it off. You were just the librarian and one didn’t need to know the librarian's name, but you looked back at him again, eyes studying his face. Then, you murmured your name so softly he almost leaned in to hear it louder. Soundlessly, he let your name ghost over his lips.

He used it as he thanked you one last time, certainly overkill but it seemed like the only correct way to exit. Although he only got a few feet before he heard you call his name.

“Spencer, wait!” You didn’t yell, he’s never heard you yell, but your voice was the loudest he’s ever heard it. You always spoke in a whisper or a hushed tone, but your voice was nearly normal when you called him back. The urgency of it had him back in front of you in just two strides.

You dipped beneath the counter and when you came back up you placed a basket on it. “When I used to go on picnics to read in the park, I used this basket. Well, I haven’t gone in a long time actually, but I thought maybe you could use it for all the books you check out,” you were bashful, tilting your head down and only sparingly meeting his eyes. Spencer was in shock, all he could think about was how this was one of the nicest things someone’s ever done for him. You gave him whiplash with how quickly you seemed to forgive whatever trespass he committed against you. He wondered even if he exaggerated the interaction in his head.

The basket was woven, made from wicker, and had two handles at the top. It was rectangular in shape, pretty deep, and large for a picnic basket, he thought, big enough for fruits, pastries, sandwiches, and maybe more. It was a very nice basket, and the thought that you were giving it to him made his heart ache the most. You’d considered him, truly sat down and thought about him and then decided you were going to gift him a solution to his awkward problem. Not often did people solve his problems, it was always the other way around.

“Wow,” his finger grazed the side, considering the cost such a nice piece must be. “Are you sure? I really couldn’t take your basket it’s—”

“I don’t use it anymore,” you interrupted him for the first time. He realized that you never cut him off, you had always listened to him. “You can have it. . .” Your face was kind, then suddenly dropped into a panic. “Only if you want it of course! You don’t have to take it. I guess it’s kind of silly, carrying a picnic basket in a library. . .” You started to pick your nails, not meeting his eyes.

“I don’t think it’s silly,” he assured you quickly, leaning just a bit closer so he could catch your eyes again. “Thank you so much. Now I don’t have to worry about falling down the stairs or taking two trips to my car.”

Your smile returned with a breathy chuckle. “Yeah, you kind of made me nervous going down the stairs like that with all those books. You don’t strike me as very. . . coordinated.”

“Ouch,” Spencer said, though he smiled back at you. You’d read him there, he was not very coordinated at all. Knowing physics was one thing, existing smoothly and with grace on the physical plane was another.

“Sorry,” you shrugged half heartedly.

“No, you’re right. Thank you for the basket and uh, I’ll be back,” he waved you goodbye as he walked toward the stairs and you fluttered your fingers back at him.

Spencer took exactly 52 minutes and 34 seconds adding books to his new basket. He got a few stares and side glances as he toted it around, mainly from a group of teenagers huddled at a miniature table and chair set in the children’s section. They snickered as they peeked up from their circle at him, but it wasn’t anything Spencer wasn’t used to. All his life people had laughed at him for a variety of reasons—he was too scrawny, too small, too bumbling, too nerdy—the list was miles long. All he could do was grow thicker skin, and he had. So he didn’t let it bother him as he wandered the library, adding books to his basket.

No, the reason Spencer took so long to pick books was because each time he slipped one into a wicker embrace, he thought of you. He blinked and saw your face like a phantom burned into his retinas. The way the corners of your mouth twisted in your smile when you were so excited to give him the basket flashed and faded in his vision. Sometimes he cursed his eidetic memory because he’d memorized your face in its entirety with all its most miniscule details and peculiarities—and he didn’t even mean to. He would find himself staring into the empty space in the basket and have to drag his brain clawing back into reality.

His watch had ticked past 12 when he made his way back down the stairs to the main floor, lugging his basket in his right hand. It was heavy, weighed by two textbooks and eight other decently thick books, but the woven willow held strong.

At the landing he could see across the library that you were already checking someone out. He meant to add himself to the queue, but pivoted to a lounge chair between two bookcases just as he got close enough to hear your voice. Immediately he felt wrong, a churning disgust with himself in the pit of his stomach. It was weird, wasn’t it? To watch you from afar just to gauge your behavior? But he had to know, it burdened his brain to wonder if you were just so saccharine it spilled out to everyone around you or if particularly you poured your sugar onto him.

You didn’t see him duck between the shelves to the lounge chair, not in any way that he could tell. With a tranquil neutral face you scanned the book that the college girl at the counter placed in front of you. The interaction was done in comfortable silence, even when you finished the transaction and she said her thank yous, you merely mumbled a “you’re welcome.”

It was different from how you interacted with him, he realized. You were much more playful and chatty with him, but he wasn’t sure what exactly inspired it in you. You were clearly shy, maybe anxious, but in some moments it faded when you talked to him. He didn’t think he said anything particularly special, but thinking you saw something in him that made you so comfortable, so cheerful, made his stomach flip in a way he couldn’t understand.

The next man in the queue placed his book on the counter. He was the only other person waiting. You asked him absent-mindedly for his library card. He was older than you and Spencer, mid to late 40s if Spencer had to guess, but it gave him an idea about how you interacted with men as well. Which was just as bland as your interaction with the college girl before you. Spencer had a fleeting thought that maybe—just maybe—you liked him. Why else would you be so inclined to laugh with him? To be so shy sometimes you couldn’t meet his eyes? He’d read books, watched movies, and he knew the signs. He was just not used to spotting them in women interacting with him.

He cleared his throat as if to shake off the idea. It was vain, and in all likelihood an arrogant over analysis of the little interaction he’s had with you. He was about to get up and put himself in line behind the man when he heard his lurid voice croak out.

“How about you give me a smile, pretty?”

Spencer froze in place, white knuckle grip engraving the grooves of the entwined handle into his palm. Something like anger flared in his chest. It grew hotter as he saw the way you bowed your head even further from the man's sight, pulling your cardigan closer around your body.

“Um, yeah, could I just get your library card?” You squirmed under his leering gaze, lips faintly curling into the most awkward half-smile you could muster.

Despite the way you clearly showed you were in duress, the man leaned closer over the counter. “My name’s Todd.” He slid his book across the counter to you like that tidbit of information helped any. “I’ll take this book and your number, baby.” Spencer’s jaw clenched.

His body tingled with the readiness to step in, to tell this Todd fucker to leave you be because obviously you weren’t interested. But his mind, the logical side of him, stopped him because Spencer also respected you and your autonomy. He was not an expert on women, but he knew quite a few strong women in the BAU who would be offended if he stepped in to defend them when they were capable of doing it themselves. He definitely didn’t want to offend you if you were able to brush off Todd on your own.

The uncomfortable smile dropped to a grimace. “If I could get your library card. . .” Your hand hesitantly reached for the book only for Todd to grasp your wrist in a tight hand.

“Stop asking for the damn card,” his voice dropped into a growl. “Baby, I’m just trying to talk to you.”

Your arm fought to pull your hand back behind the counter, but Todd’s grip tightened and pulled back to keep you close. “Sir!” Your voice pitched higher, eyes widening almost too big for their frames. “Sir, please let go—”

Todd huffed, face screwing up in frustration. “Why’re you being so difficult?”

“Sir, you’re hurting her and you need to let go now.” Spencer practically flew over to the front desk. It was his instincts as an FBI agent kicking in. The need to de-escalate and protect was driving him. This man was now hurting you and he was not going to allow it to go any further.

Todd’s scowl looked Spencer up and down, assessing whether or not he could take him. He must have come to the conclusion Spencer was not a threat because he puffed up his chest and continued gripping your wrist. However, he was so distracted by Spencer, you were able to yank your arm away, rubbing at your wrist with your free hand. Todd shot you a similar glare before leveling his even angrier gaze back on Spencer.

“We’re just having a conversation here, asshole. So why don’t you get back to your books,” Todd barked at him so loud they had now attracted all the eyes in the library. But Spencer was only looking over at yours—your creased brow and the watery worry the glass highlighted.

“Spencer, it’s—” You didn’t get to finish as Todd whirled his head between you and Spencer.

“Spencer? No fucking way this wimp is your boyfriend.” Behind the rage, Todd looked almost smug.

But Spencer wasn’t. He hit his own boiling point and was passed asking politely. He pulled his credentials from his pocket and flipped them open in Todd’s face. “No, I’m the FBI agent who is going to arrest you for harassment, assault, and public disturbance if you don’t get out of this library right now.”

Todd’s head reeled back at the badge in his face, eyes squinting between the lettering and Spencer’s face. Realization of how much shit he was in passed briefly over Todd’s face before reverting to his glower. He must not have wanted trouble with the FBI though, because he started taking steps backwards toward the exit. But he couldn’t leave with a completely bruised ego.

“Whatever man. If you want the uppity bitch so bad you can have her!” Todd slammed open and closed the door as he made his grand exit. The entire library watched it, listening to him as he got his last dig in and fleeing before Spencer could make him eat his words. He didn’t have his cuffs or gun on him, but he’d dealt with enough unsubs to know he didn’t need them to handle Todd.

When all the eyes slowly went back to their business, sure that Todd wasn’t coming back into the library, Spencer’s gaze returned to you. Your eyes were dinner plates, mouth agape, still clutching your wrist.

Spencer frowned, whispering your name. “Are you okay?”

“You’re an FBI agent. . .” The words slipped out of you in one shocked exhale. His brows furrowed. He just rescued you from an arrogant asshole and that was what you were stuck on, something he’d told you several times.

“Yes? But I told you—”

“You were serious?” Your head bobbed forward in disbelief. So you really hadn’t been believing what he was saying.

“Of course, why would I lie about that?” Spencer was confused and deep down a little hurt. It was such an odd thing to lie about to a stranger, he didn’t understand why you thought he wasn’t truthful.

“I–I don’t know,” your eyes bounced around in a panic. “I thought you were just trying to impress me. I mean—you don’t really look like an FBI agent you’re. . . young? I don’t know, I thought you were flirting with me so I—” Your hand clasped over your mouth. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry, sir—agent—”

“Spencer.”

“What?”

“Call me Spencer,” he gave her a tight lipped smile, a near look of pity on his face. Your complete panic reassured him you were just as embarrassed over the miscommunication as he was. “Technically it would be Doctor, since I have three PhDs—but you can just call me Spencer.”

“But—But I didn’t. . . you were being serious the whole time and I. . .” You stuttered, shaking your head in confusion. “I was so unprofessional. . .”

Spencer chuckled, unable to hold it back. “Unprofessional? Just because I’m an FBI doesn’t mean I can’t like to talk to people. And I like talking to you, you don’t have to be embarrassed about it.” His disappointment dissipated quickly. Your shyness and embarrassment was so genuine and charming he couldn’t find the space to be upset with you beside all his amusement.

You crossed your arms, somehow becoming even more bashful. “You’re sure it's okay?”

“Of course it's okay.” Spencer grinned.

A small sigh of relief breezed past your lips. “Okay. . . I should—I should definitely apologize for not believing you.” You meet his eyes then with such profound remorse. “Because I am really sorry. It’s just. . . your accomplishments seemed so amazing they were kind of hard to believe, especially for someone so young.”

It was Spencer’s turn to become bashful. His head ducked and he laughed quietly. “I guess they can be hard to believe. Especially when you aren’t meeting me at work. I just thought maybe all the books helped prove it.”

You let out a shaky laugh, eyes wandering back down to the countertop. “I kinda thought that was also to impress me. I didn’t really think you were reading all of them.”

“Well. . . I do.” He shrugged, figuring you had to believe him now. As you smiled at him, he realized he left his basket and books back at the chair. “Speaking of reading, I’ll be right back.”

You eyed him as he retrieved the basket and set it on the counter in front of you along with his library card. “Oh, were you sitting over there?” You looked curious. Certainly you hadn’t seen him sitting there today or anytime before.

Spencer coughed into his fist. “Um, just for a second.” He moved on quickly, removing the books from the basket. “Thank you for this again, by the way, it’s so much easier to carry all the books.”

You hummed, eyebrows jumping up. “Yeah. . . I’m having trouble believing I really gave an FBI agent a picnic basket to carry books in.” You started swiping the books over the barcode scanner, adding them back into the basket once they appeared on the computer screen next to you.

He cracked a half smile. “I think you watch too many movies. We’re not as serious as you think we are.” Hotch’s face flashed in his eyes and he thought maybe they were pretty serious, but not off duty. Hotch could also be serious enough for the whole team sometimes, so maybe he wasn’t a very good example. “And I like the basket. It was nice of you to think about me.”

Your eyes caught on his for a moment, glazed over in thought, so deep you bumped the basket as you went to set the book you held into it. It snapped you back into reality and you watched your hand as you tucked away the book, clearing your throat. “You’re sure it’s not weird?”

Spencer’s head tilted to the left, considering you. He didn’t know what he could do to pull you back from this rut of self-consciousness. He was starting to regret ever pulling out his badge because now you seem standoffish in a way you never were with him before. He wanted to go back to when you laughed and smiled at him and didn’t find him intimidating. “Of course it’s not,” he paused a moment, wetting his lips. “And this isn’t weird either, y’know? Me being in the FBI? I’m still Spencer.”

You looked back at him again, eyes searching his face. “I know that. I’m. . .” You stared at him a second longer, taking in a deep breath and releasing it with a smile. “I’m letting it sink in.” You continued scanning the books quietly, not meeting Spencer’s eyes as he absentmindedly picked at a loose string in his pocket.

His thumb brushed against his FBI credentials and the encounter just before this revelation came flooding back. He glanced over at the double doors as if to make sure Todd had not come back, though Spencer already knew he didn’t.

“Are you okay?” You met his eyes, brows pulled together. “About before—with that guy?”

“Oh.” You shrugged, rolling your wrist unconsciously. “Yeah, I’m fine. We get one of them every now and again. Normally they’re pretty harmless.” A glimmer of realization passed over your face. “Um, thank you! I should have said that before. Not everyone would have done that.”

Spencer shook his head, waving off your thanks. “Of course. I’m sorry you have to deal with that.” He was again reminded of the fact he was not a woman, and even though his job was to put away serial killers—monsters, creeps, pervs—he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be in your shoes. You shook it off well, but he didn’t doubt you were scared in the moment. Probably wondering how far he would take it, whether your reaction was appropriate, if your employer would be angry at you. He was just glad he was there to step in.

Slowly, you finished scanning all the books, tucking them neatly into the basket in an organized order he thoroughly appreciated. Heaviest books sat at the bottom and lighter books were stacked on top of them. You paused, flipping through the last book in your hand, a biography of Max Born, a German-British physicist.

“So. . . you really do read 20,000 words per minute?” You had a cheeky grin as you peeked up at him from beneath those frames, and suddenly you were back. Spencer smiled.

“Yup. I also have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal.

You giggled, nodding along. “Right. Well then I guess this isn’t even enough books for you.” A finger waved over at the basket.

“It depends on work, actually. I’m usually busy, but I often have to travel too and then I become really busy so I don’t have time to read,” he explained. When he did sit down to read, he could get through one to three books, depending on their volume. “But yeah, ten books in a week is kind of light.”

You tapped the book in your hand with your thumbs, thinking. “Okay.” Suddenly you dropped the book into the basket, dipping below the desk to set another book in front of him. Examining it, he realized by its orange and yellow coloring it was the same book you had been reading the last time he was in the library. It was The Poetry of Pablo Neruda and from the look of its creased spine and faded orange cover, it was well loved. “You should read this too then.”

Spencer turned the book over in his hands, looking at you with a twisted face of confusion. “But the check out limit is ten books?”

You shook your head, gesturing for him to add it to the basket. “It’s not a library book,” when he still looked puzzled, you continued. “It’s my book. You can borrow it from me.”

Your kindness and generosity was both shocking and overwhelming. Spencer wasn’t sure how he was to thank you for being so gracious to him. He could only think of one thing. So he quickly fumbled his wallet up onto the countertop. “You have to let me give you something for this—”

“Spencer,” as you said his name, your hand covered his as he dug for bills to give you. “You don’t owe me anything.”

He shook his head, bewildered. Not only was your kindness startling, but so was the feeling of your hand on his. He had to stop his body from flinching at the contact. He was mostly uncomfortable at the thought of people touching him, but your palm was warm, soft, and offered the most comfort he’d felt in a while. “The basket and the book? It’s too much. I mean. . . you’re too nice.”

Your lips spread into a bright smile, flashing him your teeth. “Just bring me back your analysis. I’d love to hear what an IQ of 187 can cook up. Deal?”

Spencer laughed, ducking his head as he nodded in agreement. “Deal.”

When the laughter faded and his head came back up, he looked at you for a while longer, just feeling the paperback cover underneath his fingertips. You met his eyes just for a few moments, twiddling your own fingers. “So um, see you next Sunday?” You asked. He dared to see hope in your eyes.

“See you next Sunday,” Spencer agreed again. He hesitated putting the book in his new basket then finally left the front desk, waving you goodbye as he did. He watched over his shoulder you return his wave as he exited through the double doors.

Spencer walked back to his car practically swinging the basket, so in his head he didn’t even realize he still had a smile on his face. He set The Poetry of Pablo Neruda aside as he disinfected his books and wondered what he would do the rest of his day off. What he was sure of, deep in his chest, was that he was excited for next Sunday.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer Reid x y/n #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x shy!reader

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hoseoksluna · 3 days

Text

CHERRIES | jhs ft. jjk

pairing: soon-to-be-boyfriend!hobi x oc (feat. ex-boyfriend!jk)

genre: heavy, heavy, obnoxious smut

word count: 12.7k

summary: you don't know how he does it, but hobi makes you forget about the life you led before him, using his tongue.

playlist: hobi's playlist ; hobi's the weeknd playlist

pinterest board: cherries / taglist: join

warnings: oh my god—dd/lg but differently, businessman!hobi, dominant and emotional and fucking possessive hobi, oc is horny... a lot, praise kink, breeding kink sdflhldghfdklaxjkfghskfg, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, female and male masturbation, use of a sex toy, cum eating, ass eating, religious personification, mentions of anal sex, thigh and ass slapping fuck

note: my babies, i'm so happy to be posting PART TWO OF BERRIES for you, oh my god. i had the time of my LIFE writing this, had to take breaks every 20 mins, was horny beyond my fucking mind BECAUSE THE SMUT IN THIS? FUCK. THIS IS PURE FILTH. 12K WORDS OF FILTHY HOBI SMUT. IM DEAD. HAVE BEEN DEAD. i missed writing so much that i spewed this out in 3 days... literally how? but i'm so happy to be back. i hope you enjoy this part. make sure to let me know what you think! i'm in a severe (hehe) need of your feedback. I LOVE YOU, MY BABIES. MWAH.

side note: this part has the entirety of my being in it. from the first word to the last. it means a lot to me. very special chapter! <3

By the time you come out of the art museum, it’s storming. A sound so cacophonous that it spreads dots of gooseflesh along the perimeter of your skin underneath your silk dress and the layer of your heavy trench coat. Loud and violent like your heart’s deep drum that stills once you see Hoseok leaning against his glossy car. Arms and legs crossed in the same fashion, clothed in the coupled shade of blackness, a mop of tousled hair swept back and rippling in the unforgiving wind that flushes his cheeks with its rosy coldness and then clouds pull in, darkening his stare fixed on you.

A shower of sudden rain finishes its touch on his countenance.

Eye contact broken, Hobi’s shoulders raise as he feels the iciness of the slender raindrops falling upon him, eyes flicked up to the shadowed heavens. A heartstring of yours snaps and you don’t really know who gave the command to your aching legs to run towards him with your coat suspended over your head—whether it was that weakened heart of yours or basic human decency. Emotion versus logic.

You find soon enough the verdict of the winner.

Because when you have to stand on your tippy toes to cover him from the rain, despite the fact you��re wearing your high-heeled boots, and Hobi takes the makeshift shield from your hands and shrouds you both from the wetness, an identical flush crawls from your left cheek, upon the column of your nose right next to your other cheek, warming you up from within.

Emotion. The string that ruptured grows again to its full length during that fleeting moment and you’re aching to take him home.

No rain in sight—just him in this close proximity, in this gray cocoon, smiling down at you lopsidedly, a dimmed light flickering in his inky pools, faintly, barely, only there for you to see. To catch and cling to like his patchouli scent does to you, a whiff of dainty wildflowers leaning in and enclosing around you, forcing away the thoughts that are erect in the corners of your mind, waiting for the adequate moment to strike. Thoughts of how you sense Jungkook’s life entwining around your world again; his companion perfuming the air with petrichor, the inner turmoil she must be facing the very strength that pulled those clouds in, causing a storm to stretch across the skies. You figure each beat of her confused heart must be the grumble of the thunder, but then Hobi’s outer film of softness amidst the darkness is a force way greater, because firmness broods right underneath it, and it is an energy that keeps those thoughts pressed against the walls of your mind.

He did turn you into a locked orchard—and the threat of another declared war isn’t even a wind that brushes past your fruit trees and berry bushes.

In fact, the more you deepen your exchange of gazes and Hobi cages you in between his shirt-clothed elbows, the more you want to show him the stain of your juices upon your panties.

You’re aroused—blooming, in need to be picked. It outweighs the past and you’re glad for it, deem your newly born sexuality more important than the doomed normalcy of your life.

You sink your manicured nails into that newness, adamant on not letting it go, regretting that you agreed to see your ex-boyfriend later tonight, regretting that you grew soft at the hint of his own normalcy, even though you said to yourself that you wouldn’t. It’s one of the reasons why you dig your nails deeper, maximizing your closeness to Hobi—it’s done in an effort to erase your foolish moment of weakness, to better yourself like you encouraged yourself to do earlier when you had perceived that you misinterpreted him. You curl your lips under your teeth to stifle back a sigh, wishing you were as firm as him, as stable in your decisions and your way of living as him. Wishing your weakness wasn’t a putty you play with, leave your fingerprints of your bad decisions on that blemish until you hate yourself, until the paste hardens and there’s nothing left for you to do but to watch it. Watch the evidence of your failure, your brokenness and your imbecility like still life—the curse, the doom of your life, haunting you.

It almost slinks in, threatening yet again to desiccate your orchard, the movement akin to a wave rolling in, but then Hobi speaks. And his voice sears those thoughts to nothing. Not even their shadows are left behind.

“Did you say hi to your friend?” he murmurs, reaching behind him to open the door of the passenger side for you, the coat that’s propped on his forearm lowering until it rests back around your shoulders.

You can merely nod, your empty mind focused on the absence of your selfishness—for once again, you want to be close to him for his sake, even more so when Hobi places his palm on the top edge of his car so you don’t hurt your head.

A prince, an orchardist, and a gentleman.

You’re feeding him and sucking his dick before he goes to work—you don’t care. Hope to God he fucks your brain out of your head and plants a new one; one that isn’t so stupid.

Seated inside his car, you glimpse profoundly at the way the rain kisses the crown of his head as he rounds his vehicle, sitting right beside you and carrying inside his heavenly skin fragrance, now accentuated by the residue of petrichor that all of a sudden doesn’t have anything to do with what you just bore. No hints, no thoughts, no wars. How he does it is something you’ll never have the capability of understanding—a fracture of attention of the intimate kind and he binds you to him, erasing your still fresh past as if it never happened.

You flex and relax your hand on your lap, a gesture that depicts that you cherish it to the point that you yearn to submit to it and remain submitted. And you will. You’ll figure out a way to stay stable, even if events appear to try and revolutionize you. A way to keep your fist clenched in his presence.

Hobi lets the car warm up a little bit before he turns on the heating, angling his rear view mirror just right, from which two purple, plush dice swing back and forth, colliding once and never meeting again.

How inspiring.

And then you watch his hands. Watch them dominate the car, spur it to life as he drives through the drenched street, parting the rain like a curtain, stepping in, taking you home.

As if he sensed your thoughts, he glances at you. “My place or yours?”

A red light halts his control and Hobi uses it to tap on the screen of his dashboard, dousing the space in a sultry, wet ambiance as slow, calm music breaks the silence. While it was comfortable for you, now you feel even more at ease and you wiggle in your seat, sinking deeper into the leather.

Quite useful material for the lecherous saturation of your mind; for the lustful layer of sweat lining your skin. You feel so hot. Feel the need to be ridded of your clothes right now. Feel a certain kind of vivacity that drives you to do things you wouldn’t normally do.

You take his hand from the shift stick, cradling it with both of your own hands, a finger tracing the veins that paint a slender but a strong temple—a temple for his beauty and character, you suspect.

“My place,” you say, yearning to make him feel at home in your space; cook for him, make him come, stuff like that.

Green light blinks and Hobi doesn’t withdraw from your hold. No, he tells you what to do, quickly.

“Keep your hand on mine,” he instructs and you listen, sinking your fingers between his and gripping him like in an effort to grip onto stable submission. “Just like that.”

Your stomach flips at his choice of praise and you lick your lips, tightening your hold hard enough that he peeks at you with a smirk while he shifts the gear stick with you and speeds down the road. The heat worsens and you don’t think you can take it anymore.

That alone is the most attractive thing you ever experienced with a man.

And when he plays with your thumb, you can’t help but to squeeze your thighs together. Watch him intently sneak a glance as you do so, knowing your dress has ridden up a little, exposing your tanned thighs, swathed with the brown leather of your boots. Your position also provides him the intriguing reveal of a secret—you’re wearing knee socks underneath. They were invisible to his sight this whole time and now that he sees them, his eyes linger there for a few seconds longer before he drags his teeth along his bottom lip, flicking his gaze back to the road.

“You’re wearing knee socks under those?” he asks, his voice low and tortured. Doesn’t look at you as he does. Only shifts the gear stick again, stiffly. You imagine something else is stiff, too, and you smile, a tendril of confidence clothing you in allure and sinful, dark joy. It beckons your vivacity to drive forward.

You move his hand to let the pads of his fingers feel the smooth fabric. His body twitches, his lungs inhaling a short, soft air, mouth parted, eyes unblinking, gloomy just like the heavens above. A thunder sounds and you feel like roaring just the same.

“It matches my underwear,” you murmur and the thunder prolongs, echoing feebly. You drag his hand down your thigh with the intention to also make him feel the nylon material of your panties, but he halts your movement halfway, hand gripping your flesh, trembling ever so slightly, stirring your confidence. You almost moan at his brusqueness.

“Don’t,” he scolds, brows furrowing, chest heaving in that slow manner. His lips dry and he wets them. Doesn’t spare you a glance. Turns the wheel with that one hand as he takes a left turn, his posture slouched, thighs spread, a small tent evident in between. His arousal for you grows and it only propels you to finish the job, knowing his scolding was merely a warning, not a portrayal of his discomfort. And he proves you right with his next words. “If you do that, I’ll crash this fucking car.”

You laugh through your nose, your confidence and your own arousal fluttering in you, begging to be let out. Your favorite artist starts playing and you’re not surprised by the way your body reacts. Your thighs naturally spread and you move your pelvis forward. Feel your slick dampening your panties even more, trickling down your needy seashell just as The Weeknd begins to sing about your desire.

“I wanna fuck you slow with the lights on…”

You lick your lips, inhaling deeply and exhaling with a soft moan. Hobi digs his fingernails into your skin, coaxing another one out of you and he calls you by your name in a sterner warning. You caress the edge of his hand with the thought in mind that you’ve always loved the crescent moon, so it would only be illogical for you to not want more of it imprinted on your skin.

“You shouldn’t praise me then,” you croak out, doused in adrenaline-tinged lust, your sweat heavy upon you. You clutch your cherub necklace, needing to be touched, a habit of yours that you’ve had ever since you were a teenage girl. Your fingers graze your collarbones, lingering in the dip between them. “Besides, you’re such a good driver that I think you can handle it.”

Hobi hums out an endearing laugh, that smirk of his reappearing on his mouth. He rubs the moons he impressed into your thigh from side to side and your hips buck, asking for that movement down low where you need him the most.

“You have a praise kink?” he questions and you catch him bite his lip, catch him enjoying that information, sinking it into his flesh. You want to kiss it, bruise it, make it permanent for a little while. You revel in such a dirty, yet gentle conversation and you stop yourself from bucking your hips again.

“A severe praise kink,” you correct him, emphasizing the adjective with a bit of a bratty tone to divulge to him what he does to you and how much he needs to pay for it. And before you can go on, he catches you off guard.

“If you want me to keep praising you then rub your clit,” he negotiates with you, taking your hand and moving the gear stick, leaving it there. “And you’re wrong. I can’t handle you like this. I can’t touch you when I’m responsible for your life.”

Daddy. The title would’ve slipped out of the tip of your tongue had a moan not been first, coating the ambience with a sultriness that makes you tug at his hand in order to do as he says, in order to be praised, to be gratified. But Hobi doesn’t budge. He tightens his grip around the shift stick, clicking his tongue.

“No, baby. With your other hand,” he orders, his breath shaking and amidst the enveloping of his fatherliness around you, strengthening you and binding you with ropes of safety, girlishness and seductiveness, you scrunch up your brows, wanting his hand to be there when you make yourself feel good.

And you tell him.

“I want you to help me.”

The rain thickens, creating a sensual background noise to the next slow song playing and Hobi sighs, disliking your attitude. Your arousal grows to highs you’ve never seen before, a sweet, pleasing darkness consuming you, sprinkling you with glitters of appetite and craze.

All because your sexual chemistry is so good, so strong—so natural, despite the fact you just met and don’t know each other enough for it to be possible. It exceeds the laws of human connection and the feeling of it is heady, intoxicating you with wine of the ripest cherries. You even feel as though this is your first alcoholic drink. Feel as though you’re an unspoiled virgin on the cusp of her very first sin—the Virgin Mary with long hair, cherub necklace, tanned skin, knee socks and high-heeled boots.

Hobi erases your past life. Paints a new one with watercolors; paints you anew. You know the dulcet taste of fatherliness and manliness from Jungkook and while it was what you needed at the time, sexually that is—as it wasn’t often that he used this kind of energy day-to-day, and if he did, it was to tease you—what Hobi does runs deeper. It surpasses your need; it’s not a filling that will decompose soon enough and ask for it again. It’s something else entirely.

It’s something that falls upon you and stays. Clicks and connects with no way out. It’s another layer of skin, strands of hair growing out of your scalp, the drum of the vein upon your neck.

It began in the museum and uncoils here. It’s not worth it to juxtapose it with what you had before—it’s laughable to do so. Hobi has established his fatherliness the moment he held your coat as a heathen in a church, not taking his gaze off of your intimate prayers for even a split second. Unkinked it with his honesty and by expressing his responsibility over you, listening to the murmur of the sea of your sexual need but not diving head-first into it, knowing better. And now it is ready to bloom with flowerets, with fruits, with leaves to accompany you.

“It’s this or nothing,” Hobi decides, squeezing his fingers against yours to also emphasize the gravity of his words and you purse your lips in response, finding the ultimatum so attractive. “You live thirty minutes away, so you either rub your clit on your own or you wait. It’s up to you.”

It’s mind blowing to you how he went from being timid to now ordering you to pleasure yourself. You’re sweltering beneath your clothes and Hobi notices, looking at your body through his rear view mirror. He turns the heating up and you laugh, blush deepening, eyes crinkling at the corners. Your heart thuds heavily in your chest.

“Why didn’t you put your seatbelt on?” he mutters, letting go of your hand and giving you a mean look that makes your walls clench and your throat let out a low, almost soundless moan.

You never put a seatbelt on. As dangerous as it, you hate the way it chokes you due to your small stature and you tell him. “It chokes me, Hobi, I don’t really like it.”

Hobi doesn’t respond. He reaches over and drags down the seatbelt adjuster without taking his eyes off of the road, driving steadily. His patchouli scent hits your nostrils and you nuzzle your nose into his bicep, fingers curling around his arm, smelling him in a simple, comfortable manner. Hobi gives you a quick smile and you hear the sound of him pulling on the seatbelt, but then a pedestrian runs across the previously empty crosswalk, forcing him to stomp on the brake abruptly and your heart nearly skips out of your chest. Almost flying forward, Hobi holds you in place with his strong arm, which you cradle against your quickening chest.

Exchanging a look, you both pant in tandem and Hobi shakes his head at you. Panic lines his dark eyelashes and he immediately grabs the seatbelt and, tugging harshly, he sinks it into the buckle, placing the belt behind your back. He doesn’t acknowledge the pedestrian lifting his palm in apology and neither do you, too preoccupied with the fact he just saved your life.

“You wear a seatbelt in my car. No buts. Understand?”

Too shocked by the twist of events and too touched by the gesture and the sternness of his words, you nod. He pats your thigh, the one he marked, fondling the skin with his thumb, and it drives you to say something. “I’m sorry, Hobi. I’ll wear the seatbelt from now on.”

You mean it. This has never happened to you before as you usually take the public transport, but you do understand now how dangerous it is to not wear one. Your heartbeat calms and the aftershocks of the adrenaline come to the surface, scattering along your figure. Numbness melts and your arousal returns at full speed.

Hobi nods, smiling gently, pleased with your apology, and you feel so peculiarly gratified that you managed to do something like that to him. He sinks his fingers under your thigh and you marvel at the size of his hand because his thumb still remains there on the top of the flesh, even as he wraps his digits around you like that. Kneading just once before he lifts them and begins to tap on his screen again, shifting the energy with the voice of your favorite artist. He moves the gear, accelerating.

“Why you rushing me, baby? It’s only us, alone,” The Weeknd sings and you sigh, your body loosening up. You hike the seatbelt around your hips higher, curling lower on the leather, thighs parting until your knee taps his hand. You miss his touch and you long for it again, finding its warm ghost on your skin not enough.

“You like The Weeknd, don’t you?” Hobi says, his pinky finger brushing along your sock-clad knee, causing you to almost twitch.

You smile, relishing in the love you have for the singer. “I’ve spent ten years of my life loving him.”

Liking your answer, Hobi skims his fingers along the side of your inner thigh until he finds yours, intertwining them—this time his palm closed over the back of your hand, placing it to its former position on the stick. It’s warmed by him and you love it so much that you search for his thumb, playing with it.

“I could tell,” he breathes, his tone deepened by a heartfelt emotion that moves through you. You raise your brows in curiosity and question, wondering how that has come to be. Glancing at you to see your reaction, Hobi laughs softly, his heart evident in the sound, coated with it entirely, and you catch his thumb, holding it, on the verge of bursting. “I saw what you did when I put him on.”

You round the tip of your tongue along your top lip, recollecting well what you did when you heard him. “What did I do?”

A beat of silence between you and him, he lets the singer sing his elegy. Then, his index finger traces your manicured nail on the same digit. “You spread your legs. Made such a pretty sound that I almost stopped this fucking car and fucked you until the whole city could heard it.”

Your breath hitches in your throat and you’re too late to halt the moan from slipping out, a fire coursing down from the top of your head to your toes. You want a taste of his desire so bad that you’ll do anything for it. Even let the seatbelt choke you to death.

Hobi gives you a look, one that chills your blood this time. But it feels absolutely exhilarating.

He calls your name. “Don’t do that to me. Not here.”

Your breath trembles as you scurry to regain your composure, sliding up in your seat. Hobi, too, stops that movement by cradling your thigh, putting it back to the stick once you get the message.

Why does this feel better than if he gave in?

“What if I want to?” you challenge and Hobi rubs his eyes, slapping his hand back onto the steering wheel. Frustration, it looks so good on him. “What if I want you to fuck me here?”

He shakes his head, just once, biting his lip, reddening the pillow. “No, I don’t share.”

Fuck.

This is a point of no return. You will never be the same after what he said and you feel your attachment melting into his chest, dissolving there into leaves from your fruit trees. Your imaginary wings flit, aroused from his possessiveness.

“You know what to do,” he adds without looking at you, turning up the volume as if to subdue your incoming moans.

A cherry on the top of the fucking cake.

You don’t waste a precious second. Lifting the hem of your dress, you expose your drenched panties, a large wet spot in the center darkening the black fabric. Hobi doesn’t spare you a glance. No, he takes your intertwined hands and fixes his rear view mirror, tipping it down. Dangerous, but smart. Responsible.

It’s those glimmering flecks of his character that drive your fingers to pull your panties to the side, but Hobi, once again, stops you.

With words, this time.

“Do you want me to die?” he rasps, tortured—horribly tortured and you cup your femininity, coaxing a groan out of him. “Do it over your panties, baby. Please.”

He begged. You don’t think you ever heard that word come out of a man’s mouth in your life and you break, whimpering, pulling your panties back in their place over your pussy, dragging the tip of your middle finger up and down your dripping slit, sighing. Adding your index, you put pressure to the sides of your clit as you slide your digits in the same direction, over and over, teasing yourself, breathing out little moans that make him grip the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white.

Hobi glances once at what you’re doing and swears. “Fuck, rub your clit. Don’t tease yourself, baby. Make yourself feel good.”

With a mewl, you stick your fingers together and begin a series of circles, doing as he says. Your eyes roll back, head knocking back into the leather, satisfaction seizing your body and sweetening it. The material of your panties is so flimsy that it feels as though your fingers are stroking your bare flesh and when you tug the fabric to your hole to wet it and rub your clit harder, your moans gain volume, mingling with The Weeknd’s poetry seamlessly and magnificently, dethroning the rain.

And then Hobi shifts the gear stick with your hand and drives so fast that your pleasure deepens, thrill rushing in your veins. You match your circles to that speed, your sounds becoming obnoxious, whiny squeaks when you look at him to see his jaw clenched, chest heaving and the tent in his pants larger than you last checked it.

Hobi skims his fingers along your forearm, back and forth, cradling it. Senses your stare and reciprocates it, catching you at your best when you find your spot and buck your hips, furrowing your brows. He moans, clutching your thigh.

“So good. Such a good girl, rubbing her clit for me to get praised. Fuck, baby. You’re doing so good.”

You lift your fingers in order not to come, the aftershocks of your ripped away orgasm quivering throughout your whole body and you squeeze his hand, letting go—wrapping it around his tent, instead. You figure he deserves it for praising you like that.

He finds your lidded, mischievous eyes in the rear view mirror and he flattens his lips, a brutal expression on his face that should make you scared, but it doesn’t. It only spurs you on. You graze your palm on him, causing his breath to quicken, and you whimper when you search and search for the tip of his cock. He’s slender, but big and your mouth dries.

“You almost made me come with what you said,” you say, truthfully, retracing your path down his length, his breath, now hardened, wafting over you. You love the way he focuses on the road with every fiber of his being as you’re toying with him. Love watching him grit his teeth, narrow his eyes; love watching sweat adorn his flushed chest and neck. You ache to bite him there.

And you would—had he not buckled you in place.

You don’t notice you’ve arrived at your apartment until he stops the car and turns to face you, leaning his elbow on the center console. Nobody could gaslight you into believing that ride took thirty minutes. Nobody.

Hobi made that fifteen. Ferally. For you.

You can see it in his shining face—his need for you, his desire, the fact he sped down the road because you’re so horny. And you ache to kiss him.

“You really do have a praise kink,” he says, mutedly. Must be thinking the same because his gaze flicks to your lips. You lick them for him, encouraging him to do it. “Almost coming from me praising you. Such a good girl.”

You hiss, the drum in your clit returning, stealing your attention. Hoseok grins, pleased to be proven right, pleased that you make it so easy for him. You squeeze his length and he makes the same sound, gritting his teeth briefly before he pouts.

“What’s this?” he asks, speaking of your hand placement. “When did I allow you to do this?”

You breathe heavily, descending your fingers to his full balls, feeling them perfectly due to the silky fabric of his dress pants. You knead them and he moans, the sound traveling right to your yet again needy bundle of nerves. Your hand automatically flies to it, rubbing it, and Hobi curses, eyes narrowing, fixed on the movement of your fingers.

“It’s asking for me, isn’t it?” you murmur, sliding your hand back to his manhood and his pools almost go cross, head tilting back. Your pleasure from your motions expands, your nerve endings burning.

“I’m so hard for you,” he agrees, his hand clasping over yours, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows with great difficulty, the column of his throat such a thing of beauty for you that it forces you to unclip your seatbelt. You’re about to crawl onto his lap, but one darkened look from him makes you decide against it. “Show me that pussy, baby.”

Your moan has a certain elation to it, giddy at the fact you get to expose such an intimate part of you to him, giddy that he’s taking this to another level.

You slide your drenched panties to the side and at the sight of your glistening pussy Hobi groans deeply.

“Lean against the door,” he commands, wiping at his mouth and you tremble all over, more than delighted that he’s reacting to you this way.

You swivel, propping your back against the leather of his door and Hobi lifts your legs, spreading them. You hook one of them around the back of his headrest while the other dangles in his hold. His gaze zeroes in on your pussy and as he bites his lip, he acknowledges himself with her by tracing the flesh with his thumb. Your clit, your lips before he circles your gushing hole, groaning, bettering the song you barely can hear. Your confidence and your allure skyrockets and you follow his digit, riding it, begging for more of his touch. He plays chase with you until both of you and him can’t take it anymore and when his thumb is completely soaked, he lifts it to your mouth—only to fuck with you, though, because he plunges it inside his, leaving your own parted for nothing.

You’re embarrassed, but he likes it. Whimpers around his finger. Pushes your knee to your shoulders and dives right in.

You yelp, grabbing a hold of his hair as he licks over your clit, closing his lips over it and sucking until your eyes roll back, until all your still parted mouth knows is his name and your thick heel digs into his shoulder.

But you moan the wrong variation and he’s quick to correct you with a dripping chin, his hands on either side of you, face merely inches away from yours. “That’s Hoseok for you, not Hobi.”

Red all over, you can only moan in response, gripping his hair until he hisses in pain. He strums your clit without breaking eye contact, so slippery and swollen from his attack. The orchard in you grows, brims with fruit that is on the cusp of bursting, the berries in you big and full. His eyes narrow furthermore, pupils dilated, causing his gaze to darken in ways you’ve never thought could be possible.

“Moan my name, baby. Show me how good I’m making you feel.”

The wrong variation slips again, all due to the mind numbing pleasure he’s giving you. He adds more pressure to his fingers for a second before he withdraws and slaps your thigh. And slaps it again.

“I can’t praise you if you don’t learn well, can I?” he mutters and you whine so loudly that his eyes round, body growing boneless. “Fuck, baby, if you keep making sounds like that I’m gonna come in my pants.”

You scramble your words, find it the most difficult thing in the world. And he doesn’t help you. Not when he sinks a long finger inside your heat, fucking you slowly until you can take him. You lose your mind altogether.

“You’re making me feel too-too good,” you breathe out, hiccuping as he adds a second finger in, silencing you when he gives you long strokes. You follow his gaze down and perceive that he’s watching you soak his digits. He twists them, moaning, a litany of mad, mad curses falling out of his mouth in a hushed tone.

“So wet just from me praising you, oh my God,” Hobi comments and you squeeze your eyes shut, taking it as he begins to pound you to the hilt, his arm bulging, his whole body moving. “Eyes on me. What do you call me when I make you feel this good, hm? I already told you. Just remember.”

You know which variation he means and wants to hear, but your tongue curls, aching to utter a different name that he deserves to be called by.

And you say it, opening your eyes and boring them into his. ��Daddy.”

And you don’t stop saying it. Not when he closes his eyes for a split second, agonized by such saccharinity. Not when he undoes the button of his pants and pulls himself out while thumbing your clit. You gasp, legs quivering, what you touched brought to reality and your orgasm nears, especially when he fist-fucks his length.

Hoseok draws back down to your clit, licking it over, nuzzling his face in it as he drinks your nectar right from the source, his wet fingers from you making squeaky sounds around his girth, causing you to scream, the intensity of the moment running so deep and you’re too weak to take it, overwhelmed by his arousal.

He lifts his head for a moment. “I want you to call me Daddy when you come on my tongue,” he rasps amidst his growls, never stopping the movement around his cock, and you nod your head, vehemently, willing to do anything for him.

“I’m so close.”

Hoseok pouts. “That’s so good, baby. You know what to do?”

You swallow. “I’m gonna call you Daddy when I come.”

He grins at you and the expression breaks when he fucks his tip, his brows casting a shadow on his face. You break along with it, shuddering—pleasured from watching him pleasure himself. And you break again when he praises you for your good answer. “Such a good girl. You’re gonna come hard for me?”

You don’t get to say your yes because when he sucks your clit into his mouth and groans against it as he flicks it with his tongue, he’s a witness to it himself. The fruits in your orchard explode and he drinks their juices, running the muscle all over your pussy, his mouth smacking, enjoying every drop. You squeal the title, forcing pleased growls out of him that deepen when you swear, repeating the name over and over again until your orgasm smooths down the perimeters of your body, slowly dwindling away.

You can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t see. White dots flood your vision and the only thing that grounds you is Hobi taking your hand in his. The dots swim away, revealing him on the verge of his own orgasm as he tugs on his length, rapidly now.

“That was so good, baby. You came so well for me. Called me Daddy like I wanted. Good girl,” he praises and your moans are an endless stream, enveloping around his cock, which he guides your hand towards. The weight of it, his warmth, the protruding veins, you could come again just from the feel of him. “Jerk off your Daddy. He’s close, too, from the way you came for him.”

The third person, fuck. You bite your lip, focusing on his tip as you grip him, twisting your wrist. His skin is sticky from your nectar and you spit onto your hand, earning a praise from him that makes your mind spin, even though you heard those two words plenty of times throughout your sinful date.

It will never get old—it will only make your femininity wetter for him.

And his growls, the same could be applied to them. They propel you to fuck him faster while your fingers sneak over to your sensitive clit that he provokes, rubbing circles that cloud your vision with a mist, painting him to be an angel—like the one you saw in the museum.

And when he comes, he grows a pair of glorious wings. Black, with hints of rose gold and pinks. His body doubles over, hands propped on the dashboard and the passenger seat as he spills for you, ropes of cum painting your stomach in that eternal ivory color that serves as skin for those sculptures. In a way you become them once he praises you for making him come, his breaths a legato rivulet that gives you life, his hips snapping, fucking your hand.

He smears his cum on your tanned stomach, fingers dipping below the waistband of your panties to discover a lighter shade of skin, marveling at the difference. Light passes through his eyes before he covers your pussy with the fabric, opening the glove department to fetch some tissues, cleaning you up, dragging down your dress and helping you sit up.

It’s at this moment, as he’s kneeling—towering over you and you’re sitting on your bum with your hands folded on your lap like the good girl he made you into, that he clutches the back of your neck and smashes his mouth into yours, moving it against you with such strength and vigor that you struggle to devour him in the same manner. It causes you to claw at his sides, to long to see his body in its full, bare beauty. His imaginary wings wrap around you, sealing the resplendence of your orgasm profoundly inside your skin and when he tastes you, his growls traveling down your throat are the raindrops that the orchard inside you needs in order to grow. You help him by moaning back, the aftertaste of you the sunlight.

Piercing his gaze into yours, he caresses your hair, messes up your diligently fixed updo. Catches your ribbon as it falls, wrapping it around his hand, the wisps dangling from his fingers like your leg was just a few moments ago.

You’re so satisfied that you could cry.

You don’t even understand what just happened and how it came to be. Don’t remember what occurred before you sat down in his car—Hobi has completely and wholly erased it.

And it’s him who notices that your hand still carries the remnants of him. You don’t care to look—you can’t rip your gaze away from the shine on his face, from the gratification smoothing out his features, from the pink flush decorating the perfect redness of his swollen lips. But Hobi forces you to, in the tenderest of ways. Looks lovingly at your palm, cooing, shooting that look into your eyes, where it unfolds, creates something new that you never experienced before. And when he grins, your stomach flips, winged creatures intoxicated with madness inside.

“You see what you did?” he whispers, the love in his eyes expanding, growing warmer, burning you faintly. “I want you to lick it up. You deserve every drop.” The breath you let out causes him to tremble and you cradle the fabric of his shirt in your fist. Hobi kisses your fingers, looking at you through them, his smile quivering. “Stick out your tongue for me, baby.”

You do and he slides your palm over it, his salty nectar the sea that swam against your body a week ago in your healing time and you moan, devouring his taste like he devoured your mouth, licking it up, collecting it until there’s nothing left. You show him your tongue, then, and Hobi plays with it, using his thumb, your ribbon wrapped around his hand tickling your chin. He rubs it on the muscle, playing chase with you again until he tells you to suck it. And the sound that descends from his lips once you do makes you squeeze your thighs together, your own wetness dripping out of you.

To end it, Hobi kisses your forehead, lingering there for a few seconds longer. Caresses your mouth, tracing each line, tracing your cupid’s bow, making you glisten with your own saliva. A shining, lively angel—just like him. You whimper.

“Swallow it, baby.”

You do, showing him the evidence that you obeyed after.

“Good girl.”

You take the underside of him, semi hard, into your hand, giggling, heart thumping. “You just made me horny all over again.”

Hobi hums, brushing his ribbon-clad fingers through your hair from the crown of your head. You want him to do that once you suck him off. “And you’re gonna make me hard all over again if you touch me like that.”

You mimic the noise he made, squeezing him. Hobi curses, delighting you. “Let’s go inside. I owe you that breakfast, don’t I?”

He kisses you, softly, with a hint of harshness that causes your nipples to harden painfully against your bra. You almost rub your clit again, so fucking out of it, crazed.

“You do, baby.”

You got everything you wanted in such a small amount of time that your vision twirls. Hobi is holding your hand as you’re leading him to your apartment, your ribbon still hanging from yours and his intertwinement, and your heart hasn’t stopped beating feverishly in your chest. Not even once.

You’re facing the inevitable as you watch Hobi unlace his dress shoes on his knee, his cock stiff and uncomfortable in his pants. You’re brazenly falling for him. You know your hormones swirling your system from the lustfulness you indulged in aren’t to blame—if there’s anyone to blame, then it’s Hobi himself. You consider him to be such a beautiful person that you would be absolutely stupid, blind and deaf not to fall for him. And what’s more, you sense your decline to be safe. Stable. A leverage that won’t ever break. A ribbon that won’t fray.

It’s as strange as it is inviting and your submission comes naturally to you. And this time, you don’t fear it won’t last. Don’t fear you’ll let up. There’s a sense vibrating in you that assures you that Hobi will take care of it. Put it back where it belongs if it ever strays. You don’t have to monitor it. You don’t have to do shit.

You were wrong about one more thing. Hobi isn’t Daddy.

He’s Father.

It’s this thought that drives you to take off your dress and leave it in the middle of the floor that leads to your kitchen. You’re barren down to your soaked underwear, bra and knee socks, your feet basking in the way they don’t have to ache in your boots anymore. Pulling a plate of eggs out of the refrigerator, you set it on the counter, preparing a pan by oiling it on the stove. You hear Hobi’s feet pad on the floor as you pop some bread in the toaster and you turn your head, seeing only his dark silhouette standing behind you, your dress and your ribbon in his hands.

Your heart quickens, abnormally.

“How do you like your eggs?” you ask, resuming your cooking as you break the shell of an egg on the lip of the pan, spilling the delight into the bubbling oil.

Hobi crosses the distance and you can only feel the softness of your ribbon when he places his hands on your hips, letting them travel until they stumble across the pooch of your lower belly. He groans, holding you there, pressing his hard, silk-clad cock against your nearly bare bum.

Self-consciousness creeps in as he kneads one of your insecurities and you quiver, clasping your hand over his, your confidence wavering.

“However you like them is how I like them,” Hobi flirts and you laugh through your nose, shaking your head, waiting for the egg white to fade into that milky color he painted your stomach with.

Sunny side up it is.

“Hobi, your game is out of this world,” you flirt back, sliding your spatula under the egg to check if it’s done before you can flip it.

Hobi lowers himself onto his knees and you gasp, soundlessly. He begins to scatter violent kisses along the dots upon the flesh of your bum, sucking it into his mouth as if it were an orange he was sinking his teeth into. You have to grip the counter in order not to fall over, willing strength into your weakened legs.

He bites the supple roundness of your ass cheek, smoothing out the pain with a flick of his tongue and kisses, gentle ones this time around. Hums. “Is it?”

He glides his nose along the inner of your thigh, rooting right in the center of your pussy, burying his face there. You turn around halfway, arching your back, latching onto his hair that you’ve ruined, egg long forgotten.

“Your thighs are wet again, fuck,” he whispers, mouthing your clit before he descends once again to them, licking them over, drinking your nectar that he’s created. Trails his tongue back up and, sliding your panties to the side, he takes you into his mouth, growling as he sucks onto your lips, playing with them using his tongue, hands spreading your ass cheeks, so he can have more space to make you absolutely lose yourself in him.

And it’s working. Even more so when he begins to swirl his tongue around that other, tiny hole, causing your eyes to go cross before they roll back. Your head dips into a dreamy daze, where time doesn’t exist as he switches between flicking your clit and eating your ass and it isn’t until a certain burning smell suffuses your nostrils that you snap out of it.

You’ve burned his egg, its edges black like the feathers of his imaginary wings, and you yelp, turning off the stove, pushing the pan away.

“Hobi, I burned your egg,” you exclaim and he bends you over the counter while still remaining on his knees for you, sucking your clit with all the strength he possesses. Your climax pinches you in warning, lovingly, promising to melt over you like rain soon, so very soon.

Hobi doesn’t give a fuck about his egg, it seems.

“Just a little more, please,” he begs, moving his flat tongue from side to side on your bud, hands descending down your wet thighs until he reaches your knee socks, stopping there. Whimpers.

That would’ve thrown you over the edge had he not pulled away, fingers wrapping around your knees.

You turn around and the sight of him on his knees with his glazed nose, mouth and chin, with his cock pitifully erect in his pants, creating a print that makes you salivate, absolutely and irrevocably breaks you. You can still hear his plea ring in your mind, begging you to give him a few more seconds of your pussy, and your brain malfunctions. Numbness tightens around your fingers when you cradle his face and it feels so real when you do so—the fact that you’re wanted, desired; the fact that Hobi is the one in submission to you, dominant yet attentive to you to the point that he would never want do anything you wouldn’t. He listens to you, carves his life around you… and he hasn’t even known you for a month.

You messed up his hair—and when you run your fingers through his strands, you feel your powerful ruination sifting through them, feel your seduction and your confidence, alive and breathing in that thick, dark brown mop of his. And now you crave to mess up his skin. Bruise it. Stain it with the pinks you can see in his imaginary wings. Watch them turn yellow like the rose gold in their flecks over the following days.

You’re not letting go of him.

Not when he looks at you like you’re Virgin Mary and he’s a sinner.

You pull him up by the collars of his shirt, wrinkling the fabric, adding to the ruination, and it’s electrifying. He’s the cleanest sinner you’ve ever had the grace to see and you want to stain him. Beyond the stickiness of your juices. And when he towers over you and cages you in between his buff body and the counter, hands on either side of you upon the marble, his patchouli scent making you bloodthirsty, you don’t kiss him. No, you go straight for his neck.

He didn’t expect it, groaning when you lick a stripe over his vein, sucking the skin inside your mouth. Over and over again until the sucking noises make him twitch and fist the ends of your hair, pressing his cock against your stomach. You’re feral, you’re inhuman, scattering kisses along that column like you’ve never had a man in your hands before. And it’s true. You never have. It was always you who had been in men’s hands. Never the other way around.

Your fingers gain feeling when you undo the buttons of his shirt, ripping some of them, secretly preventing him from going to work after you’re finished with him. Unless you plaster your correcting concealers on him, he really can’t step a foot outside. The bruise you left on his column is huge, purply red, and the only thing it’s missing is bite marks. A joy rotates in you, rooting from the fact that you’re changing his plans, that you have an effect on him, and you unfold that emotion when you tug that shirt down his broad shoulders and press a kiss in the middle of his chest.

But then Hobi grips your hair on the crown on your head, making you look at him.

And you can’t explain it to yourself, why you like being manhandled like that, despite the freedom you just experienced. Like a child, whose father let her run free before he scolded her and told her to stop, for she ran for too long and it’s getting cold.

“What are you doing?” he asks, lowly, and the tone etches itself onto your own throat because your answer is ready on the tip of your tongue, unabashed, dirty, throbbing.

“I need you to fuck me.”

Hobi blinks, his brows rising, a light like a comet shooting past his irises before an unbounded, starless night shrouds them.

You’ve done it. You’ve stained him. Now he needs to come all over you. Make a mess. Paint you again.

He slackens his hold on your hair. Runs his hand down the length. “If I fuck you, I’ll breed you.” Curls his hand around your throat, where those words form a new necklace, plated with that rose gold. Your mouth parts, a moan falling past, your nectar in tandem, mind dizzy from the idea of being stuffed full of his cum. He flattens his palm over your sternum, hooks his fingers over the band of your bra in the middle of your breasts. You hope he chisels the lines of his hand into your skin. You want to wear him. “Are you on birth control?”

You stopped taking it the moment you were broken up with. Didn’t think you’d need it so soon. Didn’t think you’d have a man in your life again, let alone sleep with him.

Your body desires to please Hoseok so resolutely that a wisp of your regret swathes around his wrist—regret that you threw away those pills that are the driving force in his sexuality. He might have been okay with not taking this any further, but you’re not. You’re far, far from okay.

You want to be bred. You want to be bred so much that you could cry.

Your mouth pouts, but your sadness doesn’t touch your seduction. It merely heightens it.

“You have a breeding kink?” you ask, mimicking his former words, causing him to drag his tongue over his lips slowly, divulging his arousal. It’s another tree that begins to grow in your orchard, planted by your bare hands. A cherry tree, its pink flowerets the flush that spreads across his prominent pecs. You want to make them shiny with your tongue.

And you do.

You place wet kisses over the underside of his left pec, nibbling on the skin, your small stature making it easy for you. Hobi inhales a sharp breath, sneaking his fingers under the cup of your bra, grasping your breast, squeezing until you whimper.

“A severe breeding kink,” Hoseok corrects you, just like you did in his car. He pulls down your bra straps, his hand quick to undo the clasp on your back, disposing you of the undergarment, dropping it onto the ground. Gooseflesh spreads across your skin and you let him feel it, let him feel the effect he has on you by pressing yourself against him, twisting your arms around his torso.

A tender hug, in the middle of a bonding moment. You’d be so happy, you’d laugh, you’d skip, if you had never thrown away those pills.

You wonder if he feels the drum of your heart, if he feels how it’s creating a brand new music that no human, no celestial being has ever heard before.

“I stopped taking birth control several weeks ago, Hobi,” you say, your regret and your sadness lowering your tone. Hobi coos and it makes you want to sob. “Did you bring a condom?”

He caresses your bare back, your hair a stream of a waterfall that he parts with his hand. “No, I didn’t expect this to happen.”

You do the same for him, burying your face deeper into his chest, perceiving that you’re embracing a pure angel. You engrave patterns into his skin, feathers of wings that are dripping with the fire of stars. Even though you’re dying to get fucked, this tenderness is, little by little, appeasing your darkness in a way you don’t really understand.

“We don’t have to do anything. I can make you come with my mouth again,” Hobi says, drifting his nails along the perimeter of your shoulder blade while his other hand grips your waist. The memory of the moons to the sky you paint on his back.

You lift your head. Meet the gray clouds in his eyes. “You want to breed me that bad?”

A smile curls one end of his mouth. “It’s what you deserve.”

The same smile finds a way to your mouth, then blossoms into a grin, your heart a heavy music, and you press it into the middle of his chest. Bite him there, his growls another instrument in the song. He clutches the hair at the nape of your neck, coaxing out a similar sound, your darkness a wave that ebbs to and fro.

“Put it in my ass, then.”

Hobi calls you by your name, sternly.

“What?”

He sighs. “You want to get fucked in your ass on the first date?”

You don’t know what part of his sentence makes you hiccup. Whether it’s his purity, the fact that such an angel voiced out that lewd desire of yours and didn’t jump head-first into its sea—or whether he acknowledged, once again, that this is a date. Hobi laughs, endearingly, and you blush. He kisses your cheek, lifting your chin, placing a chaste kiss onto your lips and you could die right now and know you’ll be entering the pearly gates. He’s saved a spot for you there, negotiated with God that you’ll spend your eternity there like the businessman he is.

It’s what propels you to get on your knees.

“Baby.”

And it’s him stopping you each time you want more that makes you fall for him harder.

“You’re so good to me, Hoseok, I can’t help it. I want to give back to you as much as I can.”

He utters a low, deep curse, tipping up his chin as he cradles your face in both hands. Helps you stand to your feet, kisses you with something that doesn’t resemble the chastity of before and you moan into his mouth, digging moons into his back. You press your pelvis against his thighs, frustrated that you can’t reach his manhood and Hobi hears you, lifts you up and you wrap your legs around him, grinding your femininity against his manliness, squeaking the same curses down his throat.

“Fuck, baby, grind that pussy on me like that. Just like that, yes. You learn well, don’t you? You’re such a good girl, you just need to get fucked, don’t you, baby?”

You agree with every word, your expression of pleasure saying the words for you, and Hobi moans, pushing your hips down on him while he meets you each time.

“Where’s your bedroom, baby?”

“Down the hall. First door to the right.”

You suck on his neck as he takes you there, plopping you down onto the edge of your bed. You watch your hands undo the button of his pants, but then he accidentally kicks into something and you know exactly what it is.

An orange Nike box filled with the two toys you own.

And Hobi wouldn’t have crouched to get it had you not started giggling.

How thrilling it is—to see him holding something so private, something no one has ever seen before.

He palms his cock once he discovers what’s inside, rolling his eyes back. He throws the box next to you on the mattress, pushing you back and ripping your panties out of your body in a split second. Your giggles die, replaced by whimpers, replaced by the beat of your clit and his vulgarities as he pins your knees down, gazing, lovingly, at the way your nectar trickles down to your other hole. He bends to lick it up and you die, too.

“Naughty fucking girl. How can you be so naughty and so good at the same time? You’re making me lose my mind,” Hobi snarls, putting his entire weight into the back of your knees and you gush for him, gasping, not able to take his praise, your hips instinctually raising for more of his tongue, which he slaps your thigh for. Once, twice, three times, four times until you whimper so loudly that there’s nothing else left for him to do but let up, grab your pink hitachi and lay down on his back, guide you to sit on his face.

It’s now that he takes the time to ogle your body. His night-tinged eyes glide along your tan lines, his fingers tracing them, making you shudder and rotate your hips above his mouth that he wets and keeps wetting as if it’s not enough to quench his thirst.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he chokes out, brushing the pads of his fingers along your stiffened nipples. Fireworks shoot out above your orchard, casting a rainbow of colors upon the trees and bushes. “I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you to have you like this. You belong to that museum, baby, but I’d die if someone were to look at you in my place.”

His possessiveness coated with so much affection and admiration for you elongate your imaginary wings. And you can’t halt the rounding of your mouth, the pool of tears that line your eyes, the cracking of your heart as you take in his precious words. You feel like flying; you feel like soaring free with the knowledge that with the two beats of his own wings he’ll catch up to you, fly with you like two doves.

You want to kiss him. Pay your gratitude that way and when you begin to crawl down his body, he stops you by grabbing your waist, immobilizing you above his face.

“Stay where you are. You’re not sitting on my cock until you come on my tongue. Is that what you want? Ride Daddy’s cock until he covers you with his cum?”

You can’t take it anymore. You simply can’t.

Hobi turns the vibrator to life and its buzzing sound makes you quiver. You lower yourself onto his mouth that he quickly opens for you, darting out his tongue. He lets you ride the muscle, guiding your hips to twirl in circles, and you hold onto your breasts for emotional support as you sense yourself slowly disappearing in him, in the pleasure he gives you, in his warm, dark aura.

Your mouth has no lock, no force to stop it from speaking.

“I was wrong, Hoseok,” you start, changing the direction—swinging your hips back and forth as you grab onto his hair with one hand while the other stimulates your nipple, making you pant, whine and so terribly out of it. “It’s not your game that’s out of this world. It’s your fucking dirty talk.”

Hobi hums, flicking your hand away and pinching your nipple, causing you to tip your head back and pour more vigor into your movement, his mouth too busy to respond.

“If you ever talk to anyone like this that’s not me, I’ll kill her, you hear me? She won’t live to see the next day.”

It’s Hobi now that can’t seem to take it anymore.

Holding you steady by the waist, he sits up, sucking on your clit with so much strength that you scream, your body shuttering so violently that you completely lose yourself. He throws you onto your pillows, raises your hips until they’re at level with his mouth and finishes his fucking job. Alternates between sucking and licking, stars flooding your vision, the ones you traced on his beautiful, broad back.

You come and you don’t stop.

Hobi spits on your clit and presses down the hitachi on it, moving it from side to side, your orgasm prolonging, reaching highs beyond the heavenly kind and all you can see is him, doused in colors that glimmer and his name, the right variation of it this time, falls from your lips like a prayer. Right variation, right prayer.

Virgin Mary that is looking at her God.

Setting the toy and your bum on the bed, he takes both of your hands into his fist as you’re still convulsing, in the middle of your undying orgasm. He lines his cock at your entrance, changes his mind last minute, and glides it along your sensitive pussy, holding himself at the base. Back and forth, the ebb and the flow of the sea. The sight does anything but calm you down. It supports the continuation of your orgasm.

“Listen to me very carefully,” he whispers, lowering your hands to his manhood until they wrap around him. “This cock has been yours the moment you came out of this fucking building to meet me outside. Every ridge, every fucking vein is yours.” He squeezes your hold against him, moving it up and down in an agonizing way that makes him shudder just the same. God at a very breaking point. “And these—” He groans as he uses your hands to cup his balls. “These fucking kids are all yours. Yours to swallow. Yours to decorate this beautiful body with. Yours to stuff your little hole with.” Your chest doesn’t rise with any inhalation of breath. You’re motionless, bloodless, paralyzed through and through. Scorching to the touch. Horny beyond your senses. Hobi pins your hands above your head, lining himself up, at last, at your entrance. Sinks inside you in one swift, but vigorous motion until he’s buried in deep to the hilt and he consumes your scream, kissing you so hard that he sucks every last drop of life you had in you. Then, he nudges his nose against yours, kissing its tip as well. “So don’t think for a second that these eyes are for anyone else but you.” A brutal thrust. A yelp. A loss of time and surroundings. “I’m yours, pup. I’m fucking yours.” A mad, mad laughter. “I’ve known you for a week. Ate your pussy first before I kissed you. And you touched yourself in my fucking car because you got horny from the way I praised you in that museum. How could I not be yours?”

The pet name, the magnificence of his sonnet, the stillness of his cock as you clench around him—the very cozy feeling of him being at home, being at the mountain of Athos that you blessed. You feel so small beneath him, so taken care of—and you’re at loss for words, though only one remains in your otherwise erased vocabulary, and from the top of your lungs, you utter it.

“Daddy.”

His imaginary wings flutter, the pink swelling over the black, and he growls, letting go of your hands and folding you in half, leaning his weight on the back of your thighs. Props an overlapped pillow beneath your bum, so you’re at the perfect level for him to start fucking you properly.

And he does, coaxing out your screams, causing your legs to shake on either side of his shoulders.

“That’s right, pup. I’m your Daddy. You’re doing so good, screaming for me the way I like it.”

Hobi pounds into you, giving you a half of his length that’s more than enough. Bends at the waist to scatter wet kisses along the back of your thigh, filling you to the hilt as he does so, your juices squelching around him, making such a serene, glorious sound that forces him to bite down hard onto your flesh. No alleviation after, just long and ruthless strokes while he stares down at you, eating you with his eyes. The ghost of the pain lingers, adding to the experience, adding volume to your whiny noises.

“You’re taking it so well. You’re a good pup, aren’t you?”

You sob, the pressure gyrating deep in your lower tummy, the pet name the thing that will throw you over the edge if he calls you by it again. “Yes, Daddy. I love it when you call me that.”

A hum. “Oh, yeah?”

There he fucking goes again.

A dam rushes to break and you’re defenseless.

“Yeah, I love it so much that it’s gonna make me come.”

Hobi sucks in a breath. “Tell me you’re my good little pup and I’ll let you come.” The same breath he inhaled lodges in your throat and you watch him with a blurry vision reach over for your hitachi and turn up the intensity until the vibrations are so loud that you hear them echoing within your headspace.

He fucks you faster, ridding you of any chance to speak. Teases you with the toy by placing it, barely, on your stiffened nipple, leaning over to moisten it with his tongue before doing it again. And you can’t stop it and neither can he, the way your orgasm overtakes your whole being. It’s at this moment, when he thrusts become sloppy, that you manage to croak out the words he wanted you to say.

“I’m your good little pup, Hoseok, oh fuck, yes, yes,” you whisper, your sentence blending into an efflux of legato moans—and this, this is his very undoing.

And Hobi does something you didn’t expect him to do.

As colors burst in your perspective and your orgasm drags you under, he stimulates your clit with the toy, pulling out of you and pressing his tip against its vibrating side, growling so deeply that it forces your juices out of you, sprinkling him with its iridescent drops as he tugs at his length. He paints your stomach, paints the hitachi, his nectar so enormous that it lands upon your breasts, even as far as on your neck. His body glistens in sweat and now your essence—and looking at him with your hazy vision, another orgasm rolls in.

You thrash your body so hard he has to pin you down, ripping the pillow out from behind you, laying down his weight on you. He kisses you and the lip lock lasts, seemingly, for a century. He moves his mouth against yours, basking in the feel of your puffy mouth as he alters between kissing you harshly and kissing you gently, getting to know you this way.

And when he lets up to breathe, he brushes your hair away, flings the vibrator out until it falls off the bed.

“Say it again,” Hobi says, affection flashing in his now rounded eyes, its warmth thumping. “Louder, for me.”

Your throat is dry, but you manage to do it with a sleepy smile. Think you would do anything to please him. “I’m your good little pup.”

Cupping your face, he kisses you with such tenderness that you begin to cry. Your tears soak his cheeks and he whimpers into your mouth, moved just the same by the depth, the vibrancy of the energy thickening between you.

And when he looks at you, his own tears rush in his waterline.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, pausing for a second. “What have you done to me?”

When afternoon rolls in, Hobi is still tangled up in your sheets. You brought him breakfast to bed, one you didn’t burn this time, while he rested, naked and gratified, still flushed in pink, but clean from your shower. His patchouli scent intermingled with your body wash, cinnamon and lemon, concocting something intoxicating in you that made you see him with a halo above his head. He became a saint by giving in to his desires, by coming so hard that you still feel his hot ropes of cum singeing all those sensitive, intimate parts of your body. Hobi took his time tracing and smearing each and every drop, rubbing it deep in you as if he was digging a grave for your past. And you watched him do it, with tear-stained cheeks, acknowledging yourself, just as intimately, with the information that this is something Hobi likes to do.

You plan to put that into practice the next time you get to touch him.

He’s grazing his fingers along your arm as you’re laying halfway on your side, halfway on him, your leg in between his. Seems to be lost in thought, seems to be searching for his words when he widens his travel across your body, going as far as to the peaks of your shoulder blades before returning back. You feel an inkling to help him, feel like it’s the least you can do.

“What are you thinking about?” you try, dragging a finger across his collarbone. Hobi sighs, so terribly reactive to your touch, your head lifting in such a calming manner as he breathes in and out.

“Did I scare you with what I said?”

His heart under your ear begins to hammer and right away you understand the gravity of his question. He’s lost himself in a flashback of today’s sinful events, but stumbled across a high, overpowering mountain of his bared emotions—the blessed mountain of Athos. And it seems as though he’s forgotten the way back, the trees around him growing dense, the trees of panic that whisper to him that, maybe, he made a mistake.

You hope, with every fiber of your being, that he doesn’t regret those words of beauty that have come to live under your skin like planets in the universe that you and he have created.

That would ruin you. That would break you—and not in the pleasant kind that you like. That universe would drop upon you and you don’t think you’re strong enough to pick up your own half of your creation, shake it off and learn to live again.

You straddle him and he covers you with your duvet. Not your naked breasts, but your torso, inviting you into that island. You thought he did to prevent distraction from weakening his focus, but he doesn’t regard your body like that—doesn’t regard it as an instrument of lust. Something about that moves you, enough for you to take his hands, your thumbs in the middle of his palms, and spatter your soft kisses on them. On his fingers, his knuckles. And when you reach the back of his hand, you halt, boring your gaze into his, catching that comet flying past his eyes again and staying this time, staying in the glint that appears as his brown pools wet.

“Your words mean a lot to me. I carry them in my heart. You know that poem?”

Hobi shakes his head, flattening his lips, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

You don’t mind. You’re delighted to enlighten him.

“I carry your heart with me,” you recite, keeping the heel of his palm against your lips. “I carry it in my heart. I am never without it. Anywhere I go, you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling,” you finish the first stanza of the poem that has not left your bloodstream ever since you were a teenage girl. Sharing that with him brings out a sea of feelings you remember your past self invariably longed to swim in. Tenderness, closeness, passion. Having it now feels as though you’ve passed a milestone. Hobi’s halo flashes with a rosy pink hue and your softened heart constricts. “The things you said were my doing, Hobi.”

He caresses your side, starting from your armpit, going down the side of your breast, your waist until he arrives at the fleshy part of your hip, which he grasps. His chin quivers as he opens his mouth to speak and a lump forms in your throat.

“You’re a poem, pup,” he whispers, circling his thumb over your tummy. “You don’t mind that I said those things?”

You kiss his hands again, upon the same places to make your affection last longer on his skin. Your clit awakens at the pet name and naturally, you scooch over until you’re sat on his soft manhood over the duvet and you begin to move your hips back and forth. Hobi hisses, but doesn’t stop you this time. Lets you do what you want in the safety you conjured around him.

“Say them again.”

You speed up your movement.

Hobi moans. Pauses. Swallows. Thinks. “I’m yours.”

You grind harder in reward, moaning with him, feeling him stiffen under your clit, feeling him comprehend that you love those declarations.

“My cock is yours,” he breathes out, his other hand joining the other and gripping your hip, digging in his nails. Another half moons, another beauty, intensifying the pleasure. You lick your fingertips and pinch your nipples. Hobi shudders, visibly, underneath you. “If you keep this up, I’m gonna have to cancel my work meeting.”

You laugh, meekly but seductively, prolonging your thrusts, slowing them down, coaxing pained groans out of him. A delight. “Who said I wanted you to go?”

Hobi curses, switching places with you on a whim that surprises you, bends you over, arches your back by lifting your bum in the air. The duvet falls, sadly, off of the mattress—and your soul, for him, falls equivalently.

He slaps the side of your thigh. One, twice, thrice. “Who’s pussy is this?”

You long to see him, your soul begs for it. Whispers to you to grab your phone and you do, swiping your finger on the screen and angling it so your camera has a blissful view of him. Of him fixed, darkly, on your ass and your femininity in the middle.

Curious to know what’s taking you so long to answer, his brows rise as he discovers what you’re doing and he bites his lip, pulls on your legs to straighten them and you plop down on the mattress with a loosened breath. He gets in the same position. Licks over the swell of your ass cheek.

“Film it. Film yourself telling me who’s pussy this is,” Hoseok commands and in a millisecond, without a thought spared, you click on the red button, excitement tingling your nerves.

“My pussy is yours, Hoseok.”

His eyes flick to the camera, meeting your stare, and your breath hitches, the view so attractive as he mouths that skin, marking it. He sneaks a hand to your clit, lifting his body a little, and spanks the spot he bruised. You gasp, elated, humming in a high-pitched tone, causing him to smirk.

“Ride my hand. Whose pussy is this, baby, hm?”

You snap your hips, furrowing your brows at the faint pleasure, at the desperation that courses through your veins.

“Yours, Hoseok, ah, fuck. I want you inside me, please.”

And he takes you, right there on camera, from behind—immortalizing your inside joke as you and him mention it and laugh about it together, immortalizing the way he paints your wings that ivory color and the way he rubs it in, sinking it deep within its membrane.

And when you’re so spent that you can’t keep your eyes open and Hobi is drifting his mouth over your breasts, he tells you to send it to him. And with one cracked open, you do.

It’s later in the evening that you find out that it wasn’t Hobi you sent that video to and your blood freezes.

Your phone rings and Jungkook’s picture fills the screen.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah, @fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth

BACK to masterlist | READ part one

#hobi smut #jhope smut #jhope x reader #jung hoseok #hoseok x oc #hoseok x yn #hoseok x y/n #hoseok smut #jungkook x oc #jungkook x yn #jungkook smut #hoseok fanfic #btscreatorscorner #btswritersclub #btswriterscollective

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vent-stink · 2 days

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Wooyoung vs. San

a/n: It has been a while i am sorry yous. botchy POV again, i'm sorry

c/w: smut, threesome, slight lactation kink, slight mxm, oral (fem receiving)

pairings: fox hybrid!Wooyoung x cat hybrid!reader, cat hybrid!San x reader, barely mentions of Hongjoong x reader and Seonghwa x reader

Wooyoung and San didn't argue that seriously over many things. But the current biggest reason for their arguing was laying on her back on Wooyoung's bed legs mindlessly kicking the air while playing with a ball of yarn as the two watched her from the door.

Her outfit was cute today, since she had come to Hongjoong's apartment instead of Wooyoung coming to Seonghwa's. Hongjoong liked when she wore outfits that he bought her, she was the only feminine presenting person he knew he could dress freely having been given Seonghwa's permission to do so. She wore white knee-high socks and, a pink sweatshirt and a white pleated skirt.

With her legs in the air, Wooyoung and San had a clear view of the lacy white panties that Hongjoong had also given her. "I know you're going to take your clothes off eventually anyway," he'd chuckled, "so you might as well wear something just as cute underneath." Woosan didn't know that though, Wooyoung whining under his breath, "Why did Hongjoong-hyung make her wear so many clothes?"

Y/n finally noticed them at the door, huffing at them indignantly. "Come on, y/nnie, I said I was sorry," San said, coming over to the side of the bed with Wooyoung. "No! Don't come here, you and Wooyoungie can cuddle all you want, I don't care!" she exclaimed, trying to kick him away with her sock-clad foot, making San grab it in warning. She humphed and looked away from him.

"I don't like Sannie, anymore, Y/n, I wanna be with you," Wooyoung complained, trying to lean down and touch her, but she smacked his hand away with a hiss. She wasn't relenting.

Y/n was mad because she'd come to Wooyoung's house all cute and dressed up expecting them to dote on her and give her compliments and play with her (not in that way...yet), but instead, they'd run off together, leaving y/n by herself as they cuddled on the couch.

"Y/n-ah, you're being bad," San said, "I'm gonna tell Seonghwa." "Tell him! I'll tell daddy you left me all alone, and he's not gonna let you see your precious Wooyoungie for a week!"

"I'm your Wooyoungie, too, y/nnie!" Wooyoung cried out. She grumbled, "You were my Wooyoungie, first, too."

Wooyoung got on his knees in front of her and she sat up, surprised by his action, "Don't be mad, y/nnie. You're always my favorite," He mumbled. San followed suit, "But I love you more than him!"

They started bickering and Y/n giggled, petting both of their heads with her hands. "Okay, I believe you, now come cuddle me instead."

They didn't argue. For now, at least.

Although, while maybe y/n and San could spend all day lounging... Wooyoung was still a fox, who was mischievous and full of energy that he had to exert somehow. He squirmed next to y/n who huffed with discomfort. "Can we at least kiss a little, y/nnie," Wooyoung whined. To his surprised, she perked up and looked toward him with wide adorable eyes. They both giggled as they brought their lips together sharing sweet chaste kisses.

San grumbled in jealousy as y/n's back was now turned to him. He wrapped his arms around her waist so they were flush against each other and latched his lips to her neck. She giggled even more at the ticklish feeling. He licked and nipped as Wooyoung deepened the kiss making her moan. San took that as a challenge, slipping his hand underneath her shirt making her gasp.

San smirked as he stroked the soft skin of her stomach, squeezing whatever he could in his hand. Wooyoung pulled away to look at y/n seductively as his own hand copied San's finding its way under her clothes, but not wasting any time with her tummy and moving straight to her nipple.

She whimpered as her two male companions flipped her back onto her back and lifted her shirt so that it was above her chest, revealing that she wasn't wearing a bra. "Why did Hongjoong-hyung make you wear panties but not a bra?" Wooyoung huffed. "Because I didn't wanna wear it," she pouted. "Yah, don't complain, it's better this way," San said to Wooyoung.

Still laying at her side, San cupped her breast in his hand, reveling in the feeling before plucking lightly at her nipple making her yelp. Wooyoung, liking the sound repeated the action on his side, and before she knew it, both hybrids were giving her sensitive nipples a lot more attention just to elicit the reaction out of her. When San sensed that the pinching was becoming too much, he leaned down to wrap his lips around the now swollen bud making her sigh out a moan, Wooyoung quickly following suit. They sucked and rolled their tongues around her nipples.

It was like they had become entranced the moment they'd attached their lips to her breasts, almost as if feeding from her, as if they were expecting that if they sucked long or hard enough that something would come out.

Y/n felt the familiar pool of desire in her lower stomach, her legs fidgeting and her core clenching against nothing. The area between her legs began to feel sticky and the smell of her arousal soon reached San and Wooyoung's noses, causing wanton growls to resonate from within their chests.

They almost raced to be the first one in between her legs wanting to be the first to taste her. San hissed at Wooyoung when he attempted to shove the mountainous feline away from their lover. "Yah! You weren't even doing anything earlier, I was the one who wanted this!" Wooyoung complained, and San scoffed, "What are you talking about, I always want y/n, she's mine, are you out of your mind?!" "Yours? As if, over my dead-!"

"Oppas," y/n's melodic voice hummed. The two males' ears were sensitive to any noise she made, and their heads snapped towards her. She pouted, lifting her hands, and they instinctively placed a cheek in her open palms, letting her caress their faces. "You can share, right?" she asked softly, "Please don't fight."

Their expressions softened. San relented his position between her legs to lean up and kiss her lips as Wooyoung made light work of removing her troublesome bottoms, fully ignoring the pretty panties that Hongjoong had picked for him to admire, even at least for a second.

Wooyoung swallowed the drool pooling in his mouth at the sight of her delectable pussy, touching her clit with his thumb gently. Y/n gasped into San's mouth at the sensation, tensing her muscles as Wooyoung continued his gentle minstrations. "Relax, y/nnie," San murmured against her lips, "Me and Wooyoungie will take good care of you like we always do."

She instantly relaxed her legs and Wooyiung smirked, taking his thumb and popping it in his mouth for a taste. He hummed in pleasure before finally diving nose-firsy into her heat.

Her hips bucked, but Wooyoung held them down. San glanced down at his friend in jealousy before pulling away from her lips. She whined, but he chuckled, pressing one last chaste kiss to her lips as he joined Wooyoung by her hips.

He watched Wooyoung's mouth lick and suck your wet folds for a little while, reveling in the pleasure he was giving you before spreading your legs wider and and nudging Wooyoung over, letting his own tongue taste you. Wooyoung was too drunk on your slick to complain.

You watched them with wide eyes as they licked at your clit together sharing their meal as if they were one. Y/n moaned almost more at the very sight of it than the pleasure they were giving her. They didn't care as their tongues clashed as they desperately tongued your pussy, taking turns to suck on your clip and prod at your hole, even spitting on it occasionally.

At some point, their faces were in the perfect position that had you writhing and you moaned, "Please, please, please, don't stop, don't stop." They held their position, moving faster so that she would cum. They wanted to taste her orgasm, feel her pulsing underneath them.

Their wish was soon granted as her hips tensed and then shook as she tried to thrash in their hold. They held their mouths in place as she rode out her orgasm, only stopping when she relaxed against the bed. Wooyoung pulled up first, a cheeky smile on his face as he flopped next to y/n. San massaged her thighs, prodding at any knots that had formed while she was tensed up. She hummed in appreciation.

"Who's tongue did you like better, y/nnie?" Wooyoung asked and San gaped at him, "Yah! Don't ask her that!" "Hmmm." "Don't answer, either, y/nnie!" San said exasperated. "I dunno," she mumbled, "I- I couldn't tell who was who..."

Wooyoung huffed, looking at San, "We're going to have to do that more often so that she learns to tell the difference. I already know I'm better than you, but I want the validation."

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diorcities · 3 days

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⠀ ⠀ ── ☆ ⁺彡 nct dream as spiderman !

if you saw it the first time, no you didn't! 🫵😭 reposting this again to add something i missed in the first one. happy reading!! library.

ㅤ 𓂂 ☆ mark: ultimate spiderman. broken specs and lame excuses. eating a sandwich against a skyscraper. homemade suit. attracting things with his webs (esp. you). quick reflex. stuttering. with great power comes great responsibility. yapping his adventures. “i can do this all day” energy. stacks of books and scrapped formulas for new types of web fluid. atlas carrying the weight of the world. falling in love with your best friend. stay up late saving the world... or the semester. confession on the roof of a building at sunset.

you're deposited at the top of a skyscraper with your heart beating a thousand times an hour thanks to the adrenaline sedating your senses. you feel dizzy... and alive as you catch your breath, bathing in the evening light where a masked man stands in front of you. he helps you regain your balance as you hear him laugh, his voice blown by the same wind that ruffles your hair. “yn.”

you're unable to react when your senses are drunk with the rush of joy, which is hard for you to catch the hesitation in his voice. “yes?”

you see him take off his mask and your breath freezes in your throat the moment he appears in front of you. mark, your lab partner. sunset bathes his face with a golden halo outlining his features and the light finds its way to his eyes, holding a plead.

“you know… it's okay if you like only spiderman.” he chuckles awkwardly and brushes his neck, “well, actually, spiderman is me, uh… but… i couldn't just let you kiss me if you didn't know it was me, in case it bothers you, i hope not. i hope you don't think i'm a creep or that i forcibly kissed you… actually, you kissed me..., well maybe it was bad that i kept going after you did, but i like you so maybe i did take advantage of the situation a little...—”

the last thing you notice is his eyes opening almost as soon as it takes for your feet to snap out of place and launch you towards him. his arms are waiting to hold you almost immediately and while you might be surprised by his quick reflexes, you can hardly think properly when you join your lips with his.

mark looks at you in awe before a smile rises on his lips as you smile. “spiderman, i'm so sorry, but i like someone.”

gloom tints his eyes, “do you?”

you hum, and even though you're kinda rejecting him, he lets you wrap your arms tighter around his neck. “his name is mark lee. and he's my lab partner before he's new york's friendly neighbor.”

ㅤ 𓂂 ☆ haechan: spiderman by accident. anti-hero. wired headphones. a random stop at a gas station for snacks. bruises and cuts. original anomaly. boyish teasing. upside down kiss. across the spiderverse suit. street smart. smugly comments. sneaking out after being grounded. “he looks worse than me.” grimaces when you cure a ugly looking wound. piles of love letters from admirers. quiet confession while you cure his wounds. strawberry lollipop. enemies to lovers. stay up for a late night swinging around the city with you.

the knocks on your window, though light (as if the person was instantly regretting it) were enough wake you up as you rushed out to open it.

on the other side awaited you an elusive shadow that remained static until you took his hand and ushered him into your room, and the night light finally caught his shattered suit.

“i had nowhere else to go, did i wake you?” his voice is soft and hoarse, and you really give him points for downplaying it when he repress flinchling when you touch the purple scrape on his chin. “it's not that bad.”

you make him sit up in bed and find it funny how he tries to do it because he starts stirring as if he's afraid of ruining the sheets. “i'll treat them.”

“don't bother.” he makes a pretense of continuing to talk until he notices the severity on your face and your decision to do so, and more importantly, notice how your eyes run all over his body taking into account all the cuts that show the destroyed suit on his skin. “he looks worse than me.”

you frown y and avoid looking so affected, keeping yourself busy looking for the gauze and alcohol, and then sitting next to him to begin healing the cuts on his chest. you work slowly and carefully, he doesn't say anything until you finish.

his hands grasp yours when you falter as they brush against his neck. “i'd like to keep it on.”

“is it because you don't trust me?”

“it's because i'm scared you won't like me once you find out who i am.” his voice comes to you so soft and low.

you seek his eyes, you make him see. your feelings, your emotions; you take his hand and guide it to your heart. “i'll never stop liking you, lee donghyuck.”

ㅤ 𓂂 ☆ jaemin: the sidekick who got superpowers. quiet extrovert's best friend. admiring the view of the setting sun. saving a kitten from a tree. visit at a nursing home. bingo in the afternoons. villains are friendly with him. classic suit. backward cap. funny clapbacks. “oh, it's just a scratch.” (frozen steak in black eye). subway ride home. eepy cats on a windowsill watching the falling snow. love at first sight. romantic telerage signal on the brooklyn bridge.

you had noticed that jaemin was acting strangely lately, but you couldn't imagine what you were about to discover when the screen of your phone showed his name. with a sigh, you answered, bracing yourself for another conversation full of excuses and evasions.

you kept moving down the crowded catwalk self-absorbed and a little troubled. "jaemin, we need to talk about—”

“yn, please, can you look to your right?” he interrupts with his voice full of nervousness and excitement.

confused but intrigued, you hang up and look to your side as your gaze took over the sunset of the city and the brooklyn bridge, taking up all the space, and just at that moment you notice that you were walking in a sea of static people, looking in amazement at a giant message formed by cobwebs that said: "i love you.”

the phone line remain silent until his calm voice fill your ears. “do you like it?”

your mouth feels dry and you can't string something coherent. between surprise and charm, you can barely articulate words. “are you friends with spiderman?!”

“what- no! better.”

better. does that mean… “are you his sidekick?!” that would explain why he has been absent from your date. that'd explain it all.

he laughs, and you sense a bit of struggle in his voice. “look left now.”

at that precise moment, a figure descends from the sky and with a jerk his arm wraps around your waist and your feet stop touching the ground. with a fluid movement, he pulls you both away from the cheering hustle and bustle and you squeeze more against him, watching the world blur and your whole body hum.

your eyes close and you let yourself be fully carried away by him, melted into the warm sensation that embraces you, until your feet touch the ground again. your mind feels light and your senses are put on alert when you look down and see how far the two of you are from the actual ground, holding him with hurry. “i got you.”

you look at him overcome by emotion and surprise and your eyes take note of jaemin's gentle features when he removes the mask. “i will always got you, baby.”

ㅤ 𓂂 ☆ jisung: wrong place at the wrong time. friendly neighbor doing errands for elderly people. clumsy swaying between buildings. awkward execution but good results. inner dialogues. thinking out loud. “from your friendly neighbor, spider-man”. shy giggles. stealing kisses. drinking soda on top of a moving subway. be late to class. stark enterprise intern. iron spider suit. meet up cute. confession by accident because he says something you said to jisung, not spiderman.

it might seem cute to him that you're so clueless if it weren't for the little problem that he was too and you were always in trouble because of it. in addition to that, it's not that he was an expert and a good performer, he was generally clueless as well; he sometimes wished he couldn't be in front of you.

you've crouched in a corner while he awkwardly fights a couple of thugs, and when he's done he's spent half his ration of cobwebs, knocked over a dumpster, and maybe has a rib or two bursts.

he laughs, he doesn't know why. maybe because he wants to soften your eyes open in alert as you hug your bag tightly. some belongings have fallen to the ground thanks to the forcing, and jisung picks them up as he makes his way to you. “are you okay, ma'am?” the unopened box of pasty colors lies wet when he picks it up. “ew…”

“no! my crayons.” his gaze shoots up at you as you emerge from your stupor, just as you see that your journey to the tool store has been in vain.

jisung helps you pick up what can be saved, until your eyes stay glued to the ground, looking for something as he remembers what. “your notebook.” it was the first thing he caught with his webs before it fell to the wet floor of the alley, because he knows how important it is for you.

a pair of cobwebs hold it in place on the wall when he peels it off. “thanks!” you smile and he thanks the mask for hiding he does it too.

“thank you, spiderman. and i'm sorry, i know it's dangerous going out so late… i just needed to buy more paint.”

“right, your art project.”

he doesn't even realize what a gaffe he's made in time. it's not when he takes his eyes off your notebook and watches you look at him with a mixture of surprise and suspicion. “eh… well, i assume it is, cause why i would know. not that i know … okay! i hope you arrive safe at home, i gotta go,” he says the words too fast and trips over the container on his way out.

“i see you in class tomorrow.”

“okay!— i mean, no, no. i don't even go to brooklyn visions.” he incriminates himself more and more as he speaks. “totally don't see me there, cause i don't even go to school.” jesus christ, he really wish he could shut up once and for all.

ㅤ 𓂂 ☆ jeno: intern at oscorp co. bitten by an upgraded spider because he's a little clumsy. social butterfly. lowkey popular at school. non-prescription glasses. nyu hoodie. crush on the quiet girl from his math class. “one last call”. hybrid suit. stolen kisses. last man standing. lost backpacks. wants to redeem the villains. she fell first but he fell harder. being snatched away for him. accidental confession because you joked that he was spiderman.

it was known that after a few catches at fast-paced people would begin to suspect. jeno had to seriously get his spider senses in order and stop acting before he could think, but it was almost impossible for him to do so when it came to you.

it was the fourth time he'd caught something before it fell to the ground that day, and even if you apologized for being so clumsy, jeno was frustrated because he couldn't not do so; suddenly, he wanted to protect you from everything.

he likes it, and maybe it had to do with him liking you.

god, he wasn't very good with words, and he might be a little silly because he can't show it with actions either. and he spends all day looking for a way to get you to agree to go out with him and he may also spend his time imagining scenarios where you don't like him back, and it scares him.

and that's why he doesn't have time to register that he needs to be careful when the enriched senses strike because you're always in your head, and he just catches a beaker of precipitation inches off the ground.

“wow,” you say and something tingles inside, like it was trying to warn him. “you're spiderman, aren't you?”

perhaps it was telling him to keep his big mouth shut.

jeno looks at you dumbfounded and suddenly he can't spin a coherent thought while you stare at him with those eyes ‘cause then he can think properly. “how d'you know?”

he wants to hit himself right there when you suppress a smile because it is at that moment that the possibility arises that perhaps you didn't know and that maybe (not sure yet) it was a joke.

actually… he could downplay it and flip it if it weren't for the fact that a light bulb finally light up above his head, because maybe he could... take advantage of spiderman's charms for the first time. “i am spiderman.”

but then he says it so weird that you start laughing and he thinks you think he's joking, “dead serious.” his eyes follow you chuckling a lot and he can't help but smile too, until you stop all of a sudden.

maybe you didn't know... fuck, he's screwed up very bad this time.

ㅤ 𓂂 ☆ chenle: rich boy experimenting in his father's laboratory. vigilante. sassy retorts. unpremeditated actions. advance suit 2.0. savior of the girl in distress. knocks on your window at midnight. finger guns. “that's the best you can do?”. childhood friends to lovers. vengeful. misunderstood. traitor trope. the sound of a thunderstorm. whispers at 3 am. random hugs. mean to everyone but you. no confession needed when you know your bestfriend fully.

the buildings pass on either side of you like a gray blur as you swing like a bullet through the air, your hair dances in the warm breeze and makes it harder for you to see clearly the one who holds you tightly and safe as he takes you somewhere protected from danger.

there's fear sitting in your chest that begins to fade as his swaying lulls you and you close your eyes letting yourself go until your feet touch solid ground.

“are you okay?” you hear his voice muffled by the mask, “are you hurt?” he says again, now with a tinge of alertness in his voice when your grip don't let go.

and he allows you. he doesn't let you go, and you don't want him either. and as the adrenaline goes down and dissolves in your system, your other senses resurface and even though your fear comes back something triggers in your mind. something... familiar.

you separate yourself from him with thousands of sensations crossing your features as you study the mask. your eyes drenched in something akin to shock and revelation as your hand reaches out the hem. “don't.”

his hands grab yours to keep you from lifting it up. “chenle,” you pronounce with a heartbeat, and his grip loosens.

his face is revealed underneath the cloth and you hold your breath as his closed eyes slowly begin to open. “how did you know it was me?”

“you're my best friend.”

ㅤ 𓂂 ☆ renjun: a radioactive spider missing at a science convention. spidey senses. overly intuitive. scrapped prototypes. city at dusk. gliding in the sky. leap of fate. upgraded suit. late summer nights. string lights. origami stars. sign language. sidewalk chalk drawings. not a quitter. “i am nothing without the suit”. skateboard tracks. volumes and mixtapes. scrapped knees. humming a lost song. self-sacrifice. exes to lovers. he removes his mask without knowing you're sitting on his bed.

he had mastered and perfected his technique of not making noise when entering his room. he knew the gears on the front door would make noise, so he opted for the window. the fire escape led him to the tenth floor where he slipped into the room by climbing up the ceiling.

he almost screams victory, taking off his mask, before his enriched senses tell him something isn't right, almost at the same fraction of a second when you drops with a pronounced daze the lego sculpture and it shatters on the floor. “you're spiderman.” more of a rectification than a question as if you couldn't believe it. “oh, my god. you're spiderman.”

he comes to you and hushes you. “yn! what are you doing in my room!?” your mouth opens in amazement before your features are bathed in disbelief.

“you told me to come!” he puts a hand in your mouth and the unexpected approach makes you hesitate.

“alright, alright…” he says in a whisper. “be quiet, yeah?” he asks, looking into your eyes. “don't freak out.” you nod, “seriously, i can tell you'll scream the moment i remove my hand, so promise me.” he removes his hand and awaits for your reaction.

you're puzzled, “you're spiderman…,” you breathe and he grins smugly before you hit him not so lightly.

renjun puts a hand to his mouth after letting out a sound more outraged than painful. “you're spiderman and you didn't think to tell me?”

“well… i was thinking of telling you…”

“i kissed you!? spiderman and renjun!” you say, almost stupefied. “didn't you think to tell me you were the same person? i was planning on rejecting you!” when you're done, you're just left breathing artificially, and you look at him in disbelief when he doesn't say anything.

his mouth opens slowly when he sees you waiting for something. “i was afraid you'd say that.”

you frown and stay there confused by his words.

“you're telling me that you lied to me because you were afraid? afraid of what?”

“i was afraid you'd pick him.”

“renjun, what are you talking about?” you sigh, exhausted of lies.

“of spiderman. i'm nothing without the suit. no one paid attention to me when i was a nobody.”

“i did!”

#nct dream scenario #nct dream imagines #nct dream reaction #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #haechan fluff #mark fluff #jeno fluff #jaemin fluff #renjun fluff #park jisung fluff #chenle fluff #♡dream #nct dream scenarios #nct dream reactions

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cosmic-expressions · 3 days

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⋮ ♯; ⤷ hypnotized .ᐟ

i can't escape you, i'm hypnotized ―୨୧⋆˚

dan heng x fem!reader; smut, fluff, no plot; first time, emotional, awkward, a bit vanilla(?); multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, missionary, cowgirl; needy & whiney dan heng agenda; unprotected sex (but wrap it up irl); praise, marking, pet names, groping and touching and in general lots of smooching; overstimulation if you squint;

wc: 4.4k

a/n: hello on a new acc and idk what else to say except prepare for lots of nasty thoughts in the future. peace out. and quick taglist: @kuniihoonii @hoonieswhore (sorry if you didn't want to, I thought you'd like some more dan heng content by yours truly)

the night isn't so early, but it's not extremely late either; or at least you think so, since it's kind of hard to tell time while traveling through space.

but despite that, you're not sleepy; it's actually surprising because you're laying on the pile of bedsheets dan heng calls his bed. granted, the pile is comfortable... sometimes too comfortable, but a proper mattress wouldn't hurt... especially wouldn't hurt his back. and yours, by the way.

prepped on your elbows, you're laying on your stomach with legs up in the air, wiggling them back and forth, while you read a random novel you found in the pits of the archives. you had no idea the bookshelves would contain normal books, let alone such a genre: erotica.

despite its lack of logic or laws of physics, the plot is surprisingly good... or at least good enough to kill the boredom that's washing over you. the silence, at first calming and comforting, soon became too loud, as loud as silence can get. especially when one misses their beloved.

sighing, you close the book and look around the room again. dimly lit, enough to read comfortably, seems... empty. well, no wonder why, because there's only you in there. but usually... usually, even at such hour, dan heng is back, rummaging through the piles of sacred and not texts, books, and other papers he sorts. even if he's quiet, no music is playing, it's still not complete silence. the sheets of paper sweetly swoosh over each other, the pen smoothly traces letters, and the overall atmosphere is... comforting. but without him, no matter how many books you'll go through just to make some noise, it's still empty.

"here you are..."

when dan heng sees you on his... so-called bed, he can't help but sigh in relief. something about seeing you so comfortable in his room makes his heart flutter, even if it's him who had to get comfortable with this. when he lets you in in his little cave, you're a part of it; it's not his room without you around.

"where else should i be?" you frown slightly, confused by his words, features softening the second you hear his melodic voice.

"in my arms, obviously."

you laugh in disbelief, not expecting such a cheesy line from him. but when you see how one corner of his lips curves millimeters up in a snug expression, you can guess he was taking lessons from march and caelus.

"then come here. i've been waiting for you..." you throw the book aside and roll on your side with open arms. that smile of yours, one who could fight the sun with its brightness and warmth, is enough for him to cave in.

but he stops when he notices the title of the book you were reading.

he averts his gaze immediately, but the way his ears redden tell you everything. it wasn't a book from the express's archives. it was from his own collection.

you say nothing; instead, you cuddle with dan heng, limbs tangled and bodies squeezed together in a tight embrace. the moment is serene for a second, with your bodies tangled together and warming each other, being vulnerable and protective at the same time. with closed eyes, both of you relish in this moment of silence; not the empty one, but loud, loud, and intense with all the feelings you two have for each other.

dan heng tries, he really does; he doesn't want to put silent pressure on you, so he bottles up all the need for you. it gets to the point where every single one of his nerves is on fire, every muscle gets tense, and his body gets really warm. warm to the point that even you can feel it.

"is it about that book?"

"what?" he's doomed. he's so over. he's so-

"i know it's a book from your collection. but i don't know why you read such stuff... do you gather intel for... our first time?"

your giggle is cute and innocent, but dan heng can't take it anymore. he's intoxicated by you, swooned over you... straight-up horny for you and he can't keep it in his pants any longer.

"yes." he breathes out, heart thumping in his chest like a ticking bomb. taking a deep breath doesn't help him one bit, and when you look at him with lustful sparkles in your big, lovely eyes while you speak... he feels physical pain.

"are you ready, then? i know i am."

apparently, dan heng wasn't the brightest one, because all the signs, all the teasing you treated him with, were not enough for him to notice. but now it's the time. and both of you know that.

maybe he is horny to the point where he's like a ticking bomb, but he's still a clueless gentleman. his lips clash with yours, intertwining in a slow yet passionate manner while he lays you down on the sheets. your hands cupping his face, the soft skin of your palms, and the sweet taste of your lips make dan heng breath even heavier, coming in ragged pants.

he wants you so bad; to taste you, explore you, praise and worship you, just like you deserve. dan heng never caught feelings that caliber for anyone but you, and this? this is testing his limits. he's so close to cumming in his pants at the mere thought of your naked body, and yet here he is, hands under your t-shirt, reaching for the hem to take it off. he's excited, he's needy, he's so eager; aeons, he loves you so much. and he wants to show you how much he loves you.

"d-dan heng... give me a second."

your voice rips him out of his thoughts. then he realizes your top is off; you're left in a bra and shorts, while he's still fully dressed. that is not fair, he thinks.

"i'll- i'll take mine off, too-" he trails off, reaching for the zippers, quickly getting out of the upper part of his clothing.

"that's not- that wasn't the matter, but- thank you nonetheless," you chuckle and breathe heavily, the sight of your boyfriend's torso, making you only more aroused. trying to reassure yourself, you smile at him softly, hesitating a little to say anything.

"i love you. i love you so much. you know that, right? there's no one else for me but you."

you almost tear up; it's the first time he said it out loud. he told you at the beginning that it's hard for him, and yet... here he is. vulnerable with his emotions, ready to be vulnerable with you.

dan heng is fully aware of how this moment affects you; how it must be hard to feel so... exposed after years of trying to cover up. yes, he's in literal pain still, but he's ready to take it slow and eventually fuck his fist rather than hurt you in any way.

the way his eyes glimmer in the dim light, how they sparkle and glow with nothing but love and devotion while he speaks... that's it. you know he's not lying. you know he's genuine with you, and that he's ready to sacrifice himself for you...

you unclasp your bra and put it aside, getting rid of your shorts too. and when he notices the confidence, love, and commitment, he unzips his pants in seconds.

"may i- kiss you again?" dan heng breathes out, looking you in the eyes and getting lost in them immediately. when you grab his face in your palms and kiss him with urgency he never felt from you, he gives in.

"touch me. everywhere you want, but not there, yet."

"your wish is my command, princess," he mutters back, kissing you again and moving one of his hands to your waist, caressing the soft skin and curves of your body.

you feel his leaking cock against your thigh and by aeons, is it intoxicating. the thoughts to jump on him and fuck him until you pass out are loud, but, surprisingly, you can compose yourself for now. just savor this moment, feel it, and prepare by the way, you say to yourself.

and aeons, do you feel things.

his hands, big yet calloused, touch you so gently, almost as if it's a little fluffy cloud tickling your skin. he continues to spread his warmth across your body, placing his hands everywhere he can; waist, hips, thighs, belly – you name it, he touches it. but he doesn't dare to even think about touching your pussy yet, even if he feels how wet it already is.

dan heng growls quietly, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead on yours with eyes closed, trying to compose himself again. it's hard, with his thoughts racing and spiraling down to his cock, he can't do this anymore, the battles persists and he's not the bravest soldier...

"dan heng? dan heng, can you look at-"

"no, i- i can't. i'm losing control already and- admiring your beauty like that is too much- i'll go to the bathroom and-"

"dan heng!"

the slight bonk you give his head with your hand gets him out of his thoughts, and he finally looks at you with the pain he's trying to suppress. you reassure him with a soft smile before continuing what you wanted to say.

"you can put it in... but slowly. you're- you're quite big and i'm not sure if it fits-"

"i'll make it fit, baby. it'll fit and it'll feel so good- but that's for another time."

the eagerness audible in his voice is adorable, making you chuckle and flustered. he kisses you lips again, exchanging saliva in such a needy and sloppy way. all you can do in such sudden moment is gasp and melt, letting his tongue explore your mouth.

you can feel how his cock is twitching in anticipation and need against your thigh, and the thought of finally feeling it inside makes you dizzy and wet; not in your wettest dreams you imagined his cock to be so... delightful.

"ready?" dan heng suddenly pulls away and breaks the kiss, looking into your eyes for consent. the way you stare at him with excitement, lust, and trust sends him into overdrive. he's not going bonkers thanks to the last thin strings of self-control.

"ready."

he almost drools and cums on the spot when he feels your dripping wet pussy. smearing the precum and your arousal over your entrance, dan heng lets out a few moans and whimpers; his cock is already so sensitive and the warmth of your folds inviting him almost make him cry.

"i love you so much, baby." he's mumbling into your ear while pushing his cock into your pussy, slowly but surely filling you up. the whimpers you two make mingle in the air, making a new sonata that's meant only for you, for this moment, never played again. this is it, this is the moment of pure bliss, where the usually closed heart of your boyfriend is pouring out all the love he has for you. only for you.

dan heng groans and whimpers in suffering, trying his best not to push himself all in at once. he breathes in and out, warm air getting out of his lungs is tickling your neck and ear, making you even more aroused.

"more."

he stops existing for a second, taking in your word. it's only one word and yet it's like a spark to the dynamite of need inside him.

"i need- more of you, you feel so- good," you start babbling, also getting lost in the pleasure. the soft yet demanding stare you give him says a lot; you're sure of what you say, you're sure what you want, and you're sure you want him.

"just a second, baby- i want to stretch you, not rip you in two."

the quiet whine you let out makes him whimper and throb inside you. he's so close to cumming, so close to giving it up... but he needs to wait a little more.

he can't do that when you suddenly cup his face and place a set of sloppy kisses all over his lips and jaw, whimpering and moaning softly.

you relax further, the reactions you get out of him with your little teasing are so cute that you can't help and giggle softly. rolling your hips a little, you help him push his cock further, slowly stretching you in such a delicious way.

"baby, no- i'm gonna-!"

dan heng tries to stop you and your greedy pussy, but he's helpless when his cock is hugged by your tight, velvety walls. with closed eyes, he shudders and rests his forehead on your forehead while he cums, his cock twitching and painting your inner walls already.

"fuck- i'm sorry, baby," he starts, his body still shaking as he speaks. "i couldn't help it- it won't happen again, i promise, baby-"

"you may think i'm crazy or twisted, but i find it hot."

his skin is warm under your palms as you soothe his shoulders and arms, trying to calm him down. with his head still resting on your shoulder, dan heng pants and tries to catch his breath, kissing your skin softly.

"it happens. it's normal and it's fine. i didn't mind it," you continue to comfort him, your soft fingertips brushing over his skin. your breathing is steady, heart beats only a little faster in the excitement as you want him to breathe with you. and he does after a short while, his thoughts also halting to a stop. "if you want, we can stop it here-"

"no. i want to make you feel so good like you never felt before- i want to fuck you so good that you'll get wet when thinking about it again."

such a bold statement makes your eyes widen in surprise, especially when you can hear how determined he is for it to happen. your breath gets stuck in your lungs as you try to pry your inner whore away.

"as long as- as you'll be careful and loving... then i don't- i don't mind."

a consensus has been made between your voice of reason and inner whore, both sides getting what they want; a good and sweet lovemaking session with the only man that there is for you.

dan heng chuckles and lifts his head, looking you in the eyes with undying devotion and utmost adoration as he seeks the confirmation in your stare. seeing your flushed skin, body shivering in anticipation, and lips slightly parted, he doesn't need to be told twice. placing a soft kiss on your forehead, he rests his own on yours and stares right into you eyes, stare piercing right into your soul.

"i'll make you feel so good, baby- you'll feel amazing, i promise-" he continues his ramblings, at this rate getting delirious at the mere thought of how cute you'll look when cumming around him and because of him.

his cock slides out and inside you again with ease, stretching and filling your tight pussy to the brim, knocking the air out of your lungs. gasping and moaning, you reach for his hand, needing to hold it through the whole session.

you two are so needy for each other's body, soul, mind, and heart and it's showing in every little move. dan heng quickly intertwines your hand with his, holding it gently yet in a firm grip. you put your other palm at the back of his head, and with fingers fidgeting with his hair, you pull him closer for a heated and full of devotion kiss.

he's waiting patiently for your walls to adjust to his size, but when they squeeze him so deliciously, it's hard to resist. his kisses and touches get impatient, more needy, and more possessive. taking a handful of one of your breasts, he squeezes the soft flesh and brushes his fingers across you nipple just to tease you and elicit more of those cute sounds from you.

"f-fuck, dan heng-" you whimper softly right into his lips, the stretch being overwhelmingly amazing. your breathing is ragged and shaky, thoughts race out of your mind at the feeling of his cock inside you.

"baby, you're so- so tight, aeons-" he starts grunting and moaning, finally rolling his hips further into your core. "your pussy is so good i- i can't control myself anymore, baby-"

the heated kisses you two exchange while mingled together make you both even more sweaty, smell of sex filling the room, soaking into the walls, bedsheets, everywhere where it can, just to remind you later how fiery and passionate your love is.

dan heng explores your body further with his free hand, the warm palm hovering over your skin sets your senses aflame further. his soft touch is addicting, paired with his throbbing cock thrusting in and out of your pussy makes such a dangerous mix. his hand roams over your breasts, stomach, sides, everywhere he can reach. when he reaches your hips and thighs, you react immediately, making his heart flutter and mind fuzzy with excitement.

"you like being touched here?" he asks softly, fingers brushing over your thighs, from the inner part to the outer, up and down, repeat. you don't say anything, yet he knows the answer to his question right after; the way your pussy flutters around his length, how your legs shake, how you moan louder – all of it makes his head spin and causes a wicked grin to appear on his face.

you squeeze his hand and pull him closer, hand on the back of his head pulling him in for another sloppy kiss. but you trail off your lips to the side, kissing and licking your way from the corner of his lips to his jaw, neck, shoulder, and collarbone, leaving soft marks with almost every kiss. moaning into his skin, you nibble on the sensitive parts of his neck, the need to claim him and show everyone who he belongs to being too alluring to resist.

"oh, fuck-!" dan heng is not prepared for you marking him up but aeons does he love it. tilting his head to the side, he gives you easier access to all the places he wants- no, he needs- to be marked. his breath gets shallow and ragged, cock throbbing and pulsing inside you because of how much he loves this; the marks that he will show with pride, announcing to everyone that he's yours and yours only.

his quiet whimpers and moans sound so pretty, paired with the squelching noises of his cock pumping itself into your pussy give a lovely one-of-a-kind concerto meant only for the two of you; a concerto about desire, love, and trust, a tribute to love you two hold for each other.

"d-dan heng! ah-! you feel- so good- ah!" crying out in pleasure, you arch your back with a loud moan when the tip of his cock nudges at that one sweet spot, having you sob and scream his name further.

it's like the more you scream his name, the more dan heng goes insane. with his eyes closed, he's panting into your neck, sliding inside you with ease and need; he needs you to cream around him, he needs to feel your cum coating his already sensitive length, he needs to hear you more, even if your throat is already dry because of the constant screams.

"mmh- baby, you're doing so good for me, fuck- keep going, moan my name- you're such a good- good fucking girl-"

your thighs shake and squeeze around his waist while your hips stutter, your whole body being lit on fire when you cum, gushing around him and squeezing his cock deeper inside. crying out, your whole body stiffens as you lose control, pussy throbbing, creaming, and milking him with need of his load.

seeing you like this, body flushed, pleasure written all over your face, with one hand holding his and the other one gripping the sheets... dan heng can't take it anymore. he's cumming right after, thick load after load filling your greedy little pussy up to the brim, as it milks his length further.

he rests his head in the crook of your neck, panting and smiling, placing soft and lazy kisses over your neck and shoulder. you still squeeze his hand, placing the other around him, soothing his back with your light and gentle touch. nuzzling your cheeks against his, you try to calm your labored breathing.

"mmm- you did so well, darling," dan heng muses quietly, finally lifting his head and looking at you, eyes full of love and adoration. he grips your hip softly, caressing your skin with his fingers. "are you tired, baby?"

"not that much," you answer, voice quiet and ragged with heavy breaths, as you try to calm down. the intensity of the moment got to you, and now you need a little more time to come back to your senses.

"then- can we go another round?"

you freeze, confused yet... enticed by the offer. you can feel how his cock is still hard, twitching and throbbing, waiting for you. aeons, it feels so good.

with one, swift motion, you pull him closer, kissing him with newly-found intensity, one he never imagined you could even feel for him, boring loser dan heng.

"let's go."

letting out a small chuckle of relief, dan heng looks at you for a second, admiring your sparkling eyes, flushed face, beautiful features. he can't help it; he dives in for another kiss, sloppy and messy, whimpering softly into your lips. the feeling of his breath on your face, how he tries to compose himself further, it's so extremely hot and tempting.

"are you really so needy? for me?" you tease him, knowing smirk glued to your face when dan heng pulls away for a second, his head quickly turning back to you, completely forgetting what he was looking for.

"y-yes..."

chuckling and cooing, you grab his chin, firmly but not strong enough to hurt; turning his red face to yours, lips millimeters away, you smirk again. as you look into his eyes, your fingers graze over his chin.

"do you want me to take care of you, then?"

his heart stops for a second, mind disappearing right after. with lips slightly parted, he's looking you in the eyes, stare hazed with desire devotion, and everything he's holding for you.

"yes, please."

quickly yet clumsily, you switch positions, with you now straddling his lap, dan heng sitting on his pile of blankets, staring at you with his pretty, pleading eyes. his hard cock nestled between your thighs is leaking precum again, the essence bubbling at the tip, smearing over your skin.

dan heng, the usually composed and collected archivist, is now getting putty in your hands, melting under you, mewling and whimpering for you to take care of him and his length that's aching for you. this mess of horny, insatiable, and devoted nerd that wasn't touched by anyone else is for you and you only. and it's an incredible sight.

"baby-" he's whining, quiet moans slipping past his slightly parted, swollen from all the kisses lips, covered in spit and sweat; the glistening and plump lips you love to devour.

"what is it?" your eyes wander from his lips to his slowly teary eyes, eyelashes sweetly batting the tears and sweat away; but it's his lips that's your weakness. in seconds if not less, you press a sweet yet passionate kiss, tongues dancing with each other as dan heng lets you devour his mouth, whimpering and almost cumming at the mere taste of your sweet lips.

"please, baby- i need you- i need you so bad," he's mumbling, whining and losing everything, ready to cry; all he needs is you and your sweet pussy, yet you keep it all away from him, like a big meanie!

he's kissing the corner of your lips, your cheeks, neck, everywhere he can reach, softly pecking your silky skin while maintaining eye contact, his big, puppy eyes pleading for you to ease his needs. "please baby, i need to- i need to be inside- i need your pussy so bad-"

"i got you, i got you-" you mumble out, needy for him as well. it's a rare occasion to have dan heng all for yourself, so you decide to use this opportunity.

slowly, you guide his tip inside your slick entrance, sucking him inside bit by bit. you need to take deep breaths to calm down and not straight-up impale yourself, but aeons, his cock just feels so good...

finally, you take his length all inside, moaning out loud with a little cry, his throbbing cock finally nestled deep where it belongs.

"mmh- fuck! d-dan heng, you feel- so good-" breathing out, you shiver and throw your head back, chest moving up and down rapidly as you try to continue breathing. with hands on his shoulders, you start to bounce on him, his cock easily sliding in and out as you ride both of your brains out.

you can't even focus on how pretty he looks in his fucked-out state, you yourself giving in to the pleasure. eyes rolled back, mouth parted – the stimulation and overall experience being quite intense, lots of emotions, need, and urgency make you two go non-verbal for a while; only deep panting and whimpers audible throughout the room.

"d-darling, oh fuck! so good-" dan heng lets out slurred words, eyes back in his skull as he starts to drool. quickly wiping his lips, he lets out another pretty moan, pulling your face closer to his own, and kissing you with urgency. his big hands, one on the back of your head and the other one on your thigh, hold you with care, not pushing, not pulling that roughly. he's powerless, too vulnerable, and hazy with lust to even think.

with your pussy hugging his cock so tight he's close again, legs shaking and hips jerking up to meet yours mid-way. you're close too, body shaking slightly, jolts of pleasure coursing through you as you pick up your pace. the need washes over you two, mingling your bodies together as you stay nestled in each other's embrace, fucking your brains out and confessing all the pent-up emotions.

your whimpers, his moans, and screams of each other's name echo through the archives for few hours straight, as you two just can't get enough, ready to pass out then stop. the few short breaks you two take are long enough for yearning to build up again, the whole cycle repeating again.

thank aeons the rest of the crew was out, as march and caelus would complain for the next week again.

| MLIST | if you liked this piece, please reblog! 𓆩♡𓆪

@ cosmic-expressions / @ deka-dent 2024, do not repost pls

#dan heng #dan heng smut #dan heng x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #fics: dan heng #fics: honkai star rail

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owlwithanapple · 2 days

Text

Marriage Life🔞💦

Content : Adult content🔞/Family Matters/Romance/…

Characters : Bruce Wayne x Y/N (Wife)

It's another day you wake up without your husband by your side. You are extremely disgusted and tired of him working so hard from morning until night every day. But you have no choice, because you know too well that your husband is such a busy person. You marry a man who is dozen years difference in age between you. His name is Bruce Wayne. In his public identity, he is a billionaire industrialist and notorious playboy. At night, he is Batman the super hero of Gotham City.

For several days in a row, there has been no passionate kiss in the morning and no romantic intimate time at night. When you two were in love, it was so sweet and romantic, with constant surprises from morning to night. Now you live like a fucking widow, waking up with a messy quilt beside your bed without your lover. Few days ago, you woke up two hours earlier to make breakfast for him, but he washed himself and ran out with his briefcase as soon as he woke up.

Thinking back to the scene of honeymoon in Maldives, it was simply a stunning beauty. He was so charming in bed, and you couldn't get out of bed for several days. Before, you had a passionate and romantic life, but now you feel bored. It's really different after marriage, and you start to doubt whether this marriage has lost its freshness. You go downstairs to the living room and look at the quiet home, a home without your husband. You sit on the sofa, turn on the TV, pick up a magazine and read it, and your husband's face is printed on the cover.

"Mommy, good morning." You heard someone coming down the stairs, you looked in that direction. It was the cheerful and sunny eldest son Dick Grayson. Before marrying Bruce, he told you that he had adopted children, and he was one of them.

At first, you were a little hesitant about whether you should marry Bruce Wayne. After all, when you were pursuing your career, you met your dear husband at a certain moment. At the beginning, you chose love for him, including his three adopted children and the child he had with another woman. Before you two got married, he introduced his children to you, and it was really strange at first because two children of almost the same age called you mom.

Your marriage was a simple process, without any exaggerated style, and without signing any prenuptial agreement. You just invited family and friends to witness it. When you two were in love, you were questioned by everyone. That fucking rich playboy actually going to get married. You also doubted whether you were too anxious to marry him after dating for a few months, but now there is no way to regret it.

However, after getting along for a long time, you found although the four sons have their own personalities and tempers, but not make you hate them. On the contrary, you, who have no children, have a motherly love for them. Sometimes Dick was so badly injured when he came home from patrol that you almost felt heartbroken. You put the magazine on the sofa and stood up to wave to him enthusiastically, "Good morning, sunny boy. Do you want to have breakfast together?"

"Okay, I'm starving. Where's Bruce?" He ran to living room excitedly and looked around for your husband.

When mention Bruce's name, you used to like him so much, but now you don't like him so much. When you were busy at work, you would rush to him excitedly when colleagues said Bruce was here to see you. Now... better not say it, it makes my husband seem dead. You sighed deeply, and looked at Dick in a sarcastic and indifferent way, "Sunny boy, Bruce went to work, early in the morning."

He realized he had touched your sore spot and immediately shut up. He thought about how to comfort you for a long time, and he looked very panicked. Dick as the eldest son in the family and was the most considerate of others' feelings. Sometimes he accidentally touch people's sore spots like now. He snapped fingers and said, "I'll make breakfast today! Mommy, you wait here."

You laughed out loud, you never get tired of seeing him like this. "Then I'll leave it to you."

He gave a thumbs-up gesture and ran happily to the kitchen. You continued to flip through the magazine with nothing to do, curious about the content with your husband on it. You noticed a topic that concerned you, the title was Bruce Wayne's new love. The daughter of a certain group company walked into the high-end restaurant with your husband's arm. You pinched the magazine in annoyance, and the quiet life now made you more angry.

"Mommy! Do you want the eggs to be cooked or half-cooked?" Dick walked out with a spatula in his hand. Seeing your resentful look, he was so scared and ran back in sweat.

You put down the magazine in your hand and walk to the kitchen explain to him. You accidentally heard him talking on the phone "Bruce, what the hell are you doing? Mommy is very strange today. Did you make her angry?"

You want to avoid it but can't. You haven't talked to your husband for a few days. Not to mention chatting on the phone, you haven't even said goodnight. Perhaps as you expected, this relationship and marriage is not as good as you imagined, but terrible. It's so embarrassing that children have to worry about the things between you and your husband. The tears and grievances that have been holding back for several days are about to overflow.

At this time, there was no sound in the kitchen. You calmed down and thought about it carefully before going in to talk to him. He hurriedly put his phone back in pocket and pretended to be fine. You leaned aside and smiled, "Sunny boy, do you need your phone to look up the recipe when frying an egg?"

He scratched his head in a troubled manner, holding something in his mouth as if he wanted to say. You vaguely felt something was wrong but just wanted to pretend nothing happened. The more you cared, the more Bruce wanted to leave you. You know some things without having to say them out loud, attitude is everything. Dick called you and interrupted your thoughts, "Mommy, you love mint chocolate, right?"

You were surprised and nodded slightly, curious why he suddenly asked this, "Yes. Why so sudden?"

"We've finished the mint chocolate at home, I’ll buy you some when out to work later." He blurted out, looking a little nervous and anxious.

You laughed out loud, he always treats you so considerately. If only Bruce could learn to be more considerate, you nodded, "Okay, I haven't eaten for a few days, I'm super greedy."

8:30 pm -

You received several messages from the four children.

Dick 🦅: Mommy! Sorry, I have to work overtime. I owe you chocolate first.

Jason 🐺: Mom, I didn't go home today.

Tim 🐦‍⬛: I have something urgent to do today.

Damian 🐶: I'm sleeping at my friend's house.

You 🦭: Ok... Be safe.

The four sons and husband not at home, which makes you even more bored. Usually, Tim and Dick would chat with you, but now everyone has their own lives and there is no need to stay at home. Alfred is a miracle today. He not come back yet. He is really amazing runs around everywhere. Now you are at home like a bodyguard, waiting at home to welcome them home. You want to go back to your own home but don’t want your family to worry about your marriage life. After all, it is unreasonable.

At this time, there was a sound in the hall. You thought the children would not come home today, Alfred had his own things to do, and your husband didn’t come home so early. Who the hell opened the door? ! You quietly left the room, and tried to find out who it was. You saw that person and instantly let go of your nervous mood. It was your husband. It was rare to come home late for a few days. You happily went downstairs to greet him warmly.

"You're home early today, Darling." You still feel sad, but don't want to affect his mood. After all, businessmen are very tired, so you choose to face him with a smile.

He has a smile on face, but looks at a loss. He puts his hands behind back as he has hidden something. "Yes, I finished work early today so went home early."

You point behind him, wondering what it is. "What are you hiding behind you?"

He turns around and smiles awkwardly, "It's nothing."

The more he does this, the more scared you become. You smile helplessly and say, "Darling, are you hiding something from me?"

He hesitates for a moment then says, "I..."

You get straight to the point , "If you are tired of me or want to divorce me, just do it now. Let's not waste our time."

He is surprised and sad to hear this, "Why do you think so?"

You put your hands on your waist look at his face with tears in your eyes. "You have ignored me for several days. Our married life has changed. It is no longer a two-way love. I know you are really busy. At least you have to know your wife is waiting for you every day."

He looked at you with a cold and ruthless attitude, which made your heart hurt even more. "Sweetheart, I really didn't mean to do this. Do you remember I told you there was a big project in the company to deal with?"

You looked at him and nodded bitterly. "I remember."

He walked closer to you, hands still behind his back. "I've been working on that project these days. I can leave work early today because I've finished it."

You looked at him, questioning him. "Then?"

"So I can devote all my extra time and energy to accompany my beautiful sexy wife." He said in a flirting tone that made you feel itchy.

Although you have been ignored for a few days, you are really excited this kind of romantic conversation. "Wow... So thoughtful and romantic."

He took out a bunch of bright blue roses and two boxes of your favorite mint chocolate from the back and gave them to you. "Now the misunderstanding has been resolved, can you forgive me, sweetheart?"

You didn't accept his gift, but put the magazine in front of him, and asked again, "Who is the girl holding your hand?"

Maybe he was surprised because you crushed the magazine, he said with a sly smile, "Her father and I are the leaders of this project. We have eaten in this restaurant and talked about business these days. Her daughter is interested in me, I rejected her because I have a wife."

You looked unbelievable, "Huh?! Are you sure it's not your lover outside?"

He couldn't help laughing and sighed happily, "Do you really think so?"

You turned around, facing away from him, and said indifferently, "I don't know."

He put down the things in his hands, hugged you from behind and kissed your neck deeply. "Sweetheart, women who throw themselves at me are not my type, you know it."

You smiled helplessly, "What you want to say?"

He smiled softly in your ear, "My wife is fucking better than them."

You couldn't hold back your laughter at his words. This guy is really good at teasing. Every word that comes out of that sexy mouth makes several girls fall for him. You want to refute him, but you can't control your inner joy. You have no choice but to forgive your lovely husband. Before you can speak, his hands are in your clothes, exploring various parts of your body.

You turned to look at him in panic, "You idiot! What if they come back suddenly!?"

He buried his head in your fragrant hair until he breathed a warm breath into your ear, "They won't be back today, now is our time."

You feel him about to put his hand between your thighs, his lips and tongue constantly moaning in your ear to woo you, you feel excited by touch, the thing between his thighs has been erected and rubbing against your skin, you haven't been in the pleasure of his touch and body for several days, you take a breath to relax your body, and indulge in the romance and passion he brings.

"Sweetheart, it's just the two of us tonight, we can play wherever we want." You hear his hungry moans reach your ears. "

You break away from his passionate touch, turn around hold his handsome face and lick his lips. He can't resist your temptation and actively kisses your sweet lips. He lifts you up with his strong hands, you kiss his neck from cheek to lips. He takes you to the room and throws you on the bed. The two of you are completely ignited by desire and can't wait. You take off your clothes, unbutton your underwear, and leave a pair of underwear for him to take off.

You lie on the bed facing him, lift one foot and move your pinky toe to seduce him. He unties the tie wrapped around his neck, pulls off his shirt and throws it on the ground, unbuttons his belt and pants, leaving only a pair of boxer briefs. The two of you have been fucking horny for a long time, at least a few times a day, and you both want to make up for the missed opportunities today. He climbs onto the bed, hooks his fingers into your underwear pulls it down bit by bit.

"Darling, how many times tonight?" You stroked his body and flirted with him.

He grabbed your breast with one hand, eager to eat you "until we are satisfied."

He kissed your lips and flicked your nipples with his fingers to stimulate taste buds. You felt his tongue go deep into your lips, stirring them constantly to blend your hot and passionate love juices together. He left your lips, you gasped and moaned shyly. He came to your neck again to lick and kiss it. He acted coquettishly on you in bed with a possessive desire that made you feel extremely happy and satisfied.

He kisses your collarbone and slowly moves towards your plump breasts. He licks his lips looks so naughty that made you very excited. He smells and kisses your breasts until your nipples stand up. His hot passion and breath are all focused on your sensitive nipples. You use your knee to push him between his thighs to arouse his lust. His body trembles and you bite your lips smile mischievously. You really don't get tired of him in bed.

He gently bites and sucks your nipples. You hug him and let him lean against your breasts. He uses his other hand to knead your other breast. His hungry mouth and rough strong hands make you feel so good. You are so satisfied being played with by him. There are only two of you at home. You moan loudly and enjoy it as much as you want. His hand rubbing between your thighs. Your clitoris always played by him and you are about to orgasm. Wow, this is really beautiful.

You thought of a question and grabbed his hair. "Wait, Darling."

He looked unhappy that his time was interrupted. "Really? What?"

You looked at him curiously with a smirk. "Was it your idea to have everyone away tonight?"

He pinched your nipples and pulled gently, buried his head in your clitoris licked it a few times to refuse. It was so great until you clutched the quilt, a wave of hot collisions hit your body. Your toes trembled, and the moans in your mouth could not stop. You wanted to stop and take a breath, but he didn't give you that chance, kept playing with your wet clitoris. He stopped and licked his lips. "That's right, otherwise I can't hear your voice clearly."

You finally had time to relax after a breath. "You can hear my voice every day."

During the conversation, his restless fingers went in and massaged your insides repeatedly. "When sex at home, you concerned about the children and try not to scream loudly. You screamed so excitedly and beautifully on your honeymoon before."

You straighten your waist, feel how deep his fingers are moving inside you. "Ha—Bruce...wait a minute, I'm almost there!"

He bites his lips ignite his sexual desire, and his fingers keep playing with your G-spot inside, you are almost going crazy. You can't hold back his fierce and crazy rhythm, your clitoris is made to cum by his fingers. The long-suppressed and longed desire is finally released, you fall on the bed rest for a while relax yourself. Your husband leave the bed and take off his last boxer briefs, revealing his hard and big cock.

He can't wait any longer, you spread your legs invite him in. He holds your waist to pulls you closer, he lifts your left leg puts it on his shoulder, he holds his cock and rubs it outside your clitoris to let it fill up with your love juices then inserts it into your body, his cock enter your body drop by drop until it reaches the bottom, your body trembles with excitement, you can feel his cock filling you up, fuck.

He holds your hips bring you closer to him, you can feel how strong his temperature is inside you "Damn, it's still so tight no matter how many times I come in."

You grabbed his arms with all your strength, enjoying the feeling of being pampered by him. You two spent so much happiness in bed together, and you could remember every moment of it vividly. You almost lost count of how many times you moaned for him and how much pleasure you held back. "You're so fucking big, Ha—"

He rubbed your clitoris, and his body bumped into you and pushed all the way in. You could feel his cock going deeper and deeper into you, you both finally got the satisfaction had been craving for days. He lay on top of you, you clamped your legs around him to let him go deeper into you. He slapped your buttocks with his palm on a whim. This was his habit to increase your stimulation. The sound of your two moans spread throughout the room, and the room was filled with a rich and warm atmosphere. The two of you enjoyed and indulged in it.

He licks your neck and sucks it leaving a deep red mark, this guy is so fucking possessive. But it feels so fucking good, you grab his back hard in excitement and leave a mark. But he doesn't care and smirks even more happily, he keeps fucking you hard in your clit. You can't hold it anymore, you're about to cum. His cock fucks you harder inside you, you clench it because you're about to cum.

You hug Bruce tightly and bury your head in his shoulder, you are so excited that you cum "Fuck! Bruce! Ah-!"

You don't know how much love juice you cum, you just know that your husband really fucking makes you cum so hard, when you take a breath he laughs in your ear "I'm almost there too, you're awesome."

He pulled his cock out of you, you knew he wanted to change positions. You were lying on the bed in a doggy style position, and your peachy buttocks were so raised that he wanted to cum in you even more. He lifted your long hair and kissed from your neck all the way to your waist, then kissed your buttocks and slapped them. You couldn't hold back, your body twitched and screamed out in shame. He used his cock play with your buttocks, the wetness from the love juice just now staining your peachy buttocks.

He was satisfied with playing with you and directly inserted his cock into your body. His cock rubbed all over your body. You pinched the quilt to force the pleasure of release. Bruce leaned over and stretched out his hand to hold your hand tightly. He had reached his limit and was about to climax. You heard his moans and panting sounds lingering in your ears. He held your abdomen with other hand to support you. He knew that you were about to release.

He bit your ear, and a strong breath penetrated your ear. "Honey, I want to fill you up."

You nodded and closed your eyes. "I'm going to cum too - Bruce - cum inside!"

He slowed down and then accelerated the speed of fucking and bumping into you until his body trembled, and you felt his hot semen flowing into your body. He pulled out his cock with some semen on it. You sat on the bed saw some semen leaked from the clitoris on the inside of your thigh and dripped onto the bed. You stood up wanted to wipe it with a tissue, but your waist didn't have the strength to move. It was really too intense.

Bruce went to the bedside table took out box of tissues and then held you on his lap. He spread your legs apart with his hands. To be honest, it was quite embarrassing, you was exposing your clitoris nakedly. He gently cleaned it for you, cleaned the semen for you every time after sex. You leaned your head back on him, enjoying the feeling of being pampered and cared for by him after sex.

Thanks to him sending the others away leaving the two of you alone, you haven't screamed so much since moving here. After a hot and passionate night, you fucking get the satisfaction from your husband. After he cleaned your clitoris, he hugged you tightly gave you a passionate kiss on your cheek. You turned your head look at his handsome and confident face, and laughed out loud accidentally, which made him confused.

"What's wrong? Honey, you're smiling so happily."

"Nothing, I didn't expect you send other people away for our time."

"I just want you to moan loudly and wildly, I love to hear it."

You turned and looked at him shyly with a confident smirk "Fuck you, bastard Bruce Wayne."

He pinched your nipples with his fingers. "You naughty girl, I would rather hear you call me love."

His erotic fingers playing with your nipples. His hands are groping around body until they reach your clitoris. This time he inserts two fingers into you, playing with your nipples while playing with your clitoris. His hands are really great at making you feel so good. His fingers are constantly moving quickly inside you. He raises his fingers and pushes your climax point, making your body tremble and squirt directly. He is really good at using his fingers.

He takes two fingers out, which are covered with your wet love juice. He licks them with a satisfied look. This guy is obviously more than ten years older than you, but he has so much energy that you can't imagine. You are so addicted to his playing with you, you moan shyly, "Wait a minute, love - I want to rest before -"

He laughs in your ear "What a good girl."

Nine o'clock in the morning -

Last night until midnight, you experienced several rounds of sex, you got the satisfaction and happiness had been longing for. After several fierce sex, you two took a shower together and fell asleep on the bed without even putting on clothes. In the blink of an eye, it was already morning, and you felt someone kneading your breasts. You knew it was your husband's perverted and unplaced hands. He never felt tired of doing this, but it was really comfortable. You let him knead and massage as he pleased. He didn't stop until there was a knock on the door. He got up from the bed and put on his pajamas and went to the door. You hid under the quilt didn't come out because still naked.

You heard Alfred's voice, "Good morning, Master Wayne. Breakfast is ready, you two can come down to eat."

"Got it. She and I will go down together later."

He closed the door and walked to your side sat on the bed. You came out from under the quilt and leaned on his shoulder, "I'm hungry."

He laughed at your words and breathed, hugging your shoulders, "Got it. Let's go downstairs to have breakfast after changing clothes."

You both got out of bed went to bathroom to wash up. You took a set of lace bra and panties from the closet put them on. You choose a one-shoulder off-shoulder top and black trousers put them on. You sat in front of the mirror put on some light makeup and sprayed some light perfume on your neck. Bruce changed into neat clothes and stood behind you to watch you dress yourself up. He lifted your long hair put his hand on your neck, then slowly touched your shoulders and gave you a kiss.

"Sweetheart, you are so beautiful. I was fascinated by you the first time I saw you. I felt love for you at first sight."

"Mr. Bruce Wayne, you really have a sweet mouth."

"Every word I say is true and sincere."

You touched his hand and smiled, "I know, darling."

The phone in his pocket rang. He took it out and saw the contact on it was from his work unit. "Sorry, I have to answer the call first."

You know very well your husband is a busy man, you leave the room and go downstairs. You see Alfred chatting with other children. It's a rare morning that Jason is here too. He and Bruce had a dispute over some personal matters. Although he moved out for a while, he occasionally comes back here. Bruce takes special care of him even keeps his things in the room. Dick sees you coming downstairs and quickly runs to the stairs to greet you warmly.

"Mommy, good morning. You got up so late today."

You massage your shoulders "Good morning, sunshine boy. Yes, I have something to do with your dad."

Suddenly Tim puts a bouquet of blue roses that Bruce gave you last night in front of you "You two are really energetic."

You hold Tim's shoulders "I'm a victim too, Tim boy."

He nodded and gave a thumbs-up. "I understand. Other women escaped from his clutches, but you signed a lifetime contract with him."

They are close to your age, but get along with you like friends instead of sons. You took the bouquet in Tim's hand and said, "Where did you guys sleep yesterday?"

Jason put his arm around Dick's shoulder, looking very cool and unique. "Ha! Damn it, because of you and Bruce, these damn guys broke into my house and spent the night yesterday."

You feel a little sorry for letting the kids suffer outside. "I'm so sorry, I didn't expect him to be so... You know, I'll tell Bruce later."

Jason winked at you and pointed your neck. "Did he bite you yesterday?"

You forgot there were traces of him on your neck and you were wearing an off-shoulder top. You hurriedly covered it up with an awkward smile on your face. "You know too much."

Alfred took the flowers away, put them in a vase and placed them aside. You saw Damian sitting alone on the sofa. To be honest, you care about him because he is Bruce's child with another woman. You thought many problems before you married Bruce, you knew Damian would always distance himself from you. But you couldn't force to get along with him. You could only accept everything as it came. If you forced it, neither of you would be happy.

You keep some distance from him because you two have nothing to say to each other, just occasionally say hello, glad he responds to you. At this time, your husband comes downstairs after finishing his phone call and say hello to the children. The first person who rushes to your husband is definitely Jason because he is full of complaints. You sit aside watch the two father and son bickering, which makes you laugh. You feel a surge of eyes rushing up, it is Damian who just avoids your sight.

"Ahem, everyone, come and eat breakfast while it's still hot." Hearing Alfred mention breakfast, everyone immediately rushed to the dining area. Your husband sat in the middle and you sat next to him. Alfred poured you a cup of fragrant coffee and handed it to you. You took it and toasted with Tim who was sitting opposite you. This made your husband laugh. The common point between you and Tim boy is love coffee.

—The End—

🖤Like and Reblog to motivate me🖤

AO3 Heroes In Love by owlwithanapple

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misc-obeyme · 1 day

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Mer!MC Headcanons - Younger Brothers

All right, here are the rest of the brothers. I don't think I'm gonna break them up like this again, even if they are getting stupidly long lol. I like having all the bros together, I think.

Anyway, here we are with mer!MC from the human world randomly showing up in the Devildom. I quite like how these turned out, which surprised me. While I might do the side characters on my own, I am easily persuaded by a single comment/tag/ask lol.

GN!mer!MC x Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, & Belphegor

read the older brothers here

Warnings: none

Satan

Satan wanders after a cat and ends up in the farthest reaches of the Devildom forest. He loses track of the cat, but he finds you instead. You're sitting beneath a small waterfall in a fresh water pond. The moment you catch sight of him, you duck behind the sheet of water. He keeps his distance at first, not wanting to frighten you. He's curious about how a merperson like yourself ended up all the way out here. The cat wanders back around, so he sits on the bank with it, petting it quietly and waiting for you to come out of hiding.

You can't resist the pull of a cute little cat sitting there, just waiting for you to pet it. You venture out, finding yourself less wary as Satan smiles at you. He lets you dry your hands on his sweater before you attempt to pet the cat, just in case it doesn't like water. It purrs happily as you scratch under its chin.

He takes the moment to ask you about yourself. When he finds out that you're from the human world, he frowns. You don't belong here in the Devildom. He knows that, but he also doesn't know how you got here or how to get you back. From that moment on, he returns regularly to the forest. The cat sticks around with you so he brings it treats and brings you books. You get hooked on them, reading every one he brings, but your favorite thing is when he reads to you. He discovers you're especially fond of pirate stories and poetry about the sea.

Satan debates with himself about whether or not he should help you find your way back to the human world. In the end, he asks you directly. And he believes you when you say you want to stay with him. It's a relief and he didn't quite realize how nervous he was about you leaving. Won't you allow him to sit here beside you every day, MC?

Asmodeus

Asmo is doing a beach side photo shoot for a swim wear company, but takes a break to walk through the waves for a moment. He's far off from the group of demons he's working with when he notices the flash of your tail in the sparkling ocean. He's mesmerized almost instantly. What beauty! He wants to get closer, so he wades out quite a ways. He's so entranced by the shimmering glimpses of you that he loses his footing and gets pulled beneath the water.

He struggles, knowing he's too far away from the others for them to have seen him go under. But then he feels arms around him as he's pulled above the surface. He gasps in heavy lungfuls of air as he feels himself being carried. He manages to rearrange himself in your arms princess style as you swim him back to shore.

Asmo takes a minute to recover himself, but then he's staring at you with wide eyes. You're halfway out of the water, the waves lapping gently against your beautiful tail. He can't stop himself from touching you - gentle fingertips across your cheeks, through your hair, and lingering on your scales. He stops thanking you only long enough to tell you how gorgeous you are.

He comes back to the beach without the photo crew and he always finds you waiting. He brings you trinkets and his heart soars when you present him with a handmade shell necklace. He wears it whenever he returns. When he finds out you're from the human world, he sighs. The humans wouldn't know how to appreciate something as beautiful as you, MC. Won't you stay here and let him admire you a little longer? Every time he comes back to see you, he's flooded with relief that you're still there, waiting for him in the glistening waves.

Beelzebub

In an attempt to shake up his usual routine, Beel adds swimming to his workout regimen. He's been doing laps in the RAD pool, but he notices that there's something unusual going on. He can't quite figure it out, but he feels like someone's watching him. Eventually, he sits on the steps that lead into the pool and just asks out loud if there's anyone there. He's surprised when you surface from the deep end. You've been hiding in the shadows of the deepest, darkest part of the pool.

Beel waits for you to come over to him on your own. You do eventually, cautiously. He finds out you're from the human world and that you have no idea how you ended up in the RAD pool. It was likely some witch's spell gone wrong. But you're here now. And he can't stop staring at you. You're beautiful and strong and even if you're a little shy at first, you open up to him soon enough.

He comes back every day, of course. And you impress him by beating him in every swimming race. He can't keep up with you and while that's to be expected considering you have a tail and all, he's still amazed. You tell him about the world you left behind, details of the human world he never knew. If he starts to look sad because he thinks you miss your home, you splash him with water. Things quickly devolve into a splash fight, both of you laughing as the water flies around you.

Eventually, Beel realizes that you can't stay in the pool forever. It's too small and he sees the way you gaze off out the windows of the gym forlornly. He brings you to the ocean, carrying you himself, placing you gently in the waves. You get to choose if you'll stay at this Devildom beach for a while or if you'll swim off into the horizon, never to be seen again. Whatever you choose, MC, he will always cherish your time together.

Belphegor

After hearing about how clear the skies are out on the ocean, Belphie rents a boat and goes sailing. When he's far out to sea, in a place where the waters are relatively calm, he stops his boat so he can look up at the sky. He's so focused on the constellations that he doesn't quite realize where he's stepping and he backs right into the railing, nearly falling into the water. He catches himself, but finds he's staring down at the dark ocean's surface. He sees the watery reflection of a few of the brightest stars, but there are two that seem too bright. As you come closer, he realizes that he is looking into two shining eyes.

Belphie backs away as you emerge from the water, resting your arms around the railings so you can see him clearly. He didn't think he would see a merperson out here. A few questions reveal that you're from the human world, uncertain of how you found yourself out here in a place of eternal night. Your tail flops up on the deck and it's like a mirror, reflecting back the brilliant pinpoints of the stars.

He sits with his legs dangling off the side of the boat and traces the constellations on your scales. He's pleased with the way you shiver at his gentle touch, the way you listen to him tell you about the constellations and their stories as if his words were keeping you alive.

He purchases his own boat and keeps it docked nearby so he can take it out into the depths to stargaze with you nearly every night. You never express a desire to return from the world you left and he never brings it up. He wants you to stay here with him. He can't stop thinking about the stars that are your eyes, MC. He dreams about them when he sleeps. You've embedded yourself into his heart, like you've made your home there in the Devildom sea.

older brothers | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me fanfic #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmodeus x reader #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me belphegor x reader #obey me x reader #x reader #misc writes

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supernovafics · 14 hours

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•*⁀➷ ❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑. ❞✭・

supernovafics!

✭•*⁀➷ a modern fake dating steve harrington series ·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

in which a friendship is surprisingly born in an elevator, and a crush that feels hopeless is developed very soon after that. for what feels like forever, you debate whether or not you should be honest with eddie and see if he maybe feels the same way as you. but, you upsettingly miss your chance to say anything when he gets into a relationship with someone that’s not you. ultimately, you decide to push everything you feel to the side so that you don’t potentially ruin everything between you and him; because at the end of the day, he’s still your best friend. now, two years later, things have changed— there’s a break up, reignited feelings, and pining that feels worse and even more helpless this time around. a blind date leads to you fake dating some guy you barely even know with the hopes of finally getting eddie to see you as more than just a friend. at first, you’re hesitant and you honestly think that steve’s suggestion sounds a little insane. but, then you decide that perhaps it could actually, somehow, maybe work? you and steve haven’t even known each other for a full twenty hours before you two are shaking hands and agreeing to fake date for a month, and hoping that you both get what you want out of this abruptly thrown together arrangement.

warnings: modern au, college au, fake dating trope, Big Big slow burn, bestfriend!eddie, slight fuckboy!steve vibes, unrequited feelings, pining, angst, specific warnings will be tagged per chapter

author's note: ah i'm very very excited for this series! i had this idea since like december and have been up and down and back and forth with outlining and writing it for the past few months (its been a bit of a roller coaster to say the least lmao). but here it finally is woooo !! i'm gonna actually do a taglist for this one so let me know if you wanna be added<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

prologue — can't go back (coming monday!)

chapter one — from the start (coming thursday!)

(the entire series will be twenty chapters and an epilogue!)

#steve harrington series #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things series #thank me later series

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jo-speaks · 13 hours

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boat ride

in which...

Quinn takes fem! reader out for a ride on the lake.

warning: smut below! MDNI!!

note: second imagine for my 'alphabet dates' series! This one really isn't a "date", but it's okay. also, this is my first time writing smut so I would really appreciate some feedback bc I have no idea if it's good or not (i'm laughing but i'm not) wc: 2083

“Hey. Are you awake?”

You blinked your eyes open, turning to face Quinn, “I am now.” He let out a breathy laugh, “Sorry.”

Making a noise, you rolled over completely to wrap one of your legs over his waist. Your hand gently found its way to the nape of his neck, messing with the messy curls. Instinctively, he brought up his own hand to slightly lift up the big hoodie you were wearing, which was actually his, to rub the thigh of the leg that you had placed over top of him.

“What time is it?” You mumbled.

Quinn reached behind his head to grab his phone that was next to the bed, “2:45.”

Suddenly the lack of light in the room made a lot of sense. You and Quinn had been out on the lake the whole day and the second you had taken a shower after coming back in the house, you passed out in your shared bed.

You tugged gently on Quinn’s curls, causing him to let out a groan. He leaned down to place a kiss on your lips.

It started off like every other kiss, slow, soft, and full of love. But, it slowly became more aggressive. You tried to pull away to take a breath, but Quinn didn’t let you. He trailed his hand up, going from your thigh to your ass.

He gave it a gentle squeeze, causing you to let out a soft moan into the kiss. You didn’t pull away from the kiss, that had now turned into something far from sweet, as you shifted over Quinn, your legs on either side of his waist.

You rolled your hips into Quinn, causing him to grip you tighter and buck his own hips up closer to you.

Before it could go any further, you pushed his lips away from you. He tried to pull you back in, but you kept him away.

“What are you doing? Are you okay?” He asked, sounding extremely out of breath.

“Yeah, I just…” You took a deep breath, “We can’t do this here.” Quinn furrowed his eyebrows, “Why not? They’re all asleep.”

You shook your head, “I know. But how many times do your brothers wake up around this time to grab something or use the bathroom?”

Quinn took a second to think about your words, realizing you were right. He knew how you felt about people hearing the two of you during such an intimate moment, and he couldn’t help but feel the same way.

He’s the only one who could hear you that way.

After a minute or two, he lifted you off of him and grabbed his phone. Before you could question his actions, he spoke up.

“Put your shoes on. We’re going somewhere.” He mumbled, getting up and walking out of the room.

You took a moment, then immediately snapped into action. You slipped on a pair of Uggs and quietly got up to follow Quinn. Making your way downstairs, you could see your boyfriend standing out on the porch, keys in hand.

Walking over, you slid open the glass door, causing Quinn to turn around. He closed the door quickly, grabbing your hand in his as he walked towards the deck.

Obviously, it wasn’t busy at all. You could see some lights in the distance, coming from the country club, but the lake itself was pretty dark and quiet. Peaceful, even.

By the time you finished taking in the scenery, you could hear the engine of the boat turn on. Quinn grimaced at the loudness before extending his hand out towards you. You gladly accepted, stepping into the boat. You sat on the floor of the boat next to Quinn who was in the driver's seat.

The moment you were in, Quinn was driving off. The further away you got from the house, the more of your surrounding you were able to take in. Small waves were forming the more he sped up. You knew he wasn’t taking in anything, his mind only focused on one goal, but that didn’t stop you from speaking up.

“It’s pretty out here.” You said, looking up at Quinn.

He didn’t answer, instead putting the boat in park. Looking down at you, he gave you a sweet smile before pulling you up to straddle his lap. Quinn took a minute, taking in your features as he rubbed his hands softly over your thighs.

“How did I get so lucky?” He mumbled, leaning in to press his lips on yours.

Like before, there was something so sweet about the kiss. Your lips moved softly against his as you wished you could stay in this moment forever.

However, you both knew that wasn’t going to happen. At least not right now.

As if it was muscle memory, you grind your hips into Quinn slowly, allowing a soft groan to escape his lips. He gave your sides a squeeze as he pressed you down harder, allowing you to feel him through his sweats.

Knowing it was the only thing covering you, he left your hoodie on, not wanting to expose you to the chilly Michigan winds, yet his hands still found their way underneath it. You shivered as he grazed his hands over your breasts, the coldness of his fingers causing your nipples to peak.

Quinn continued his actions as he pulled away from your lips, trailing his kisses from your lips down to your neck. Your hands found their way to the back of his head, gripping tightly as he found that one spot that made you squirm.

You let out a soft moan, “Quinn.”

“I know, baby.” He whispered.

He didn’t stop his attack on your neck as he pulled your panties to the side. The second his fingers came in contact with the wetness between your legs, he couldn’t help but smirk. “All this from a few kisses?”

You didn’t get the chance to respond as he spread your slick around, quickly finding the spot you needed his fingers the most. You let out a moan, louder than you intended to, as Quinn rubbed your clit.

“Shit, Quinn.” You mumbled, biting your lip, trying to keep yourself from getting too loud.

Unfortunately for you, Quinn wasn’t a fan of the silence. He moved his fingers faster, causing more noises to spill involuntarily past and your hips to grind against his hand.

“Been so long. Let me hear you, sweet girl.” He whispered.

At this point, Quinn didn’t care if you were cold or not. He lifted your hoodie up, exposing your bare chest to him. He let out a groan before he got closer, pressing sloppy kisses all over your breasts.

It was slowly becoming too much. His fingers mixed with the feeling of his tongue running over your nipples was getting you closer and closer to your peak.

The second your noises became louder and your back arched closer to his mouth, Quinn knew it was coming.

Suddenly, the knot in your stomach snapped, a stream of obscenities past your lips as your legs shook and you gripped his hair tighter, the groan he let out only adding to the pleasure.

“There you go.” Quinn mumurred, keeping his movements going as he worked you through your high.

You shifted away from his hand the second you came down, silently telling Quinn it was too much. He understood completely, pulling his hand away from your now sensitive pussy.

He placed a soft kiss on your lips, “You did so good, baby. You always do.”

His praise was something you would never get sick of, especially during moments like this. It let you know that he cared about you, not that you ever questioned it, but the constant reassurance made sure of that.

Quinn wanted to give you a minute to rest, but you didn’t need it. Almost instantly, you lifted your hips, tugging at the waistband of his pants. He chuckled as you struggled to get them down due to his seated position.

After a few seconds of laughing at your struggles, he helped you out. He lifted his hips and pulled them down along with his navy boxers.

You let out a soft gasp as his cock slapped against his stomach. He laughed softly at your reaction, knowing you’ve seen it a million times. Pulling you back towards him, he kissed you slowly.

You were getting antsy, wanting nothing more than for him to be inside of you. You pulled away suddenly, causing a look of confusion to wash over his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need you, Quinny.” You admitted bashfully.

A smirk appeared on his face, “Yeah? What do you need from me, pretty girl?”

You were at a loss for words, the only thoughts forming in your head being lewd ones. When you didn’t answer, Quinn bucked his hips up, the tip of his cock nudging against your clit. The noise that escaped your mouth was one Quinn would never forget.

“That.” You whispered, “I need you to fuck me, Quinn.”

He smiled at your confession. Deciding not to make you wait any longer, he lined himself up before entering you with one swift thrust. The two of you let out matching moans at the action, neither one of you moving as you adjusted to feeling.

“I missed you.” Quinn panted, trying his best not to move until you did.

You closed your eyes as you lifted your hips before dropping them again, causing a raspy moan to pass Quinn’s lips. “I missed you too.”

Opening your eyes, you got a good look at Quinn’s current state. You had only moved once, but his head was thrown back and his eyes were shut as he breathed heavily. You smiled at the sight, deciding to move your hips up again to see his reaction.

The second you did, he couldn’t hold back anymore. He snapped his head up and began thrusting into you relentlessly. By the way he was feeling, Quinn wasn’t sure if he’d last.

“Oh my god.” You cried out, trying to stay up straight.

Quinn let out a strangled gasp, “You feel so good, Y/N. So-” He cut himself off with a loud groan as you clenched around him involuntarily.

Your head came down onto his shoulders as you wrapped your hands around his upper body to keep yourself grounded. Your nails dragged down his back, a cry of pleasure leaving your mouth as he hit that spot inside of you that made you see stars.

He let out a guttural moan at the feeling, knowing the scratches would be red and visible in the morning.

You rise and fall on his cock, harder and faster as you match his thrusts, his only response being a breathy grunt at the overwhelming feeling.

“I’m close, Quinny.” You whimpered, trying your best to prolong your orgasm as much as you could in order to not end the moment.

But you could only do so much.

Quinn brought one hand down from your waist to your clit, pressing down rather hard before rubbing it for the second time that night.

“Shit!” You called out.

You couldn’t keep up as he buried himself impossibly deeper into you. His actions were becoming more and more sloppy as he got close. And by the way his grip got tighter on your hip, you could tell he was right there with you.

You let out a breathy moan, “I’m gonna come.”

Quinn’s finger sped up, as did his hips, “Then come, baby. No one’s stopping you.”

It was those words that did it.

For the second time that night, you let go, allowing yourself to be in complete euphoria as Quinn continued moving, trying to extend your moment of pure bliss.

The feeling of your muscles contracting around him caused Quinn to let go with you, his release spurting inside of you as he let out noise that could only be described as sinful.

When you both came to, he placed loving kisses on your shoulder. “Did so good for me. So good.”

You made a noise, your body too exhausted to move from your current position. You both didn’t make any effort to move away from each other, trying to enjoy the closeness you had been starved of since the start of the offseason.

“I love you.” Quinn whispered, “I love you more than you know.”

A sweet smile formed on your face, “I love you too.”

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes x reader #nhl #nhl hockey

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citrusbatsandhoneybees · 15 hours

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Like What You See?

Lucifer X Fem! Pornstar! Reader SMUT

A/N: God I'm finally done with this! I've been so excited to share this! Hadddd to try to write my own getting caught fic after reading and getting inspired by @heart-of-the-morningstar's Behind (Not So) Closed Doors fic, (If you haven't read it obviously go read it right now) and maybe I've got another idea for another one. Tehee~ I LOVED writing this, and I hope you like it!

Synopsis: Reader used to be a pornstar, and Lucifer gets caught watching one of your films.

Content Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Heavy Smut, mentions of porn, masturbation, voyeurism, teasing, edging, oral (m receiving) and fingering.

Word Count: 7K

Divider Source: cafekitsune

You used to be an actor for Valentino. You quite enjoyed doing those long films, and they started to gain a lot of traction. However, after a while, Valentino had tried pushing you towards doing shorter films that didn’t have any plot outside of the erotic parts, and you refused, effectively showing him that you no longer had any worth to him. When you first arrived Hazbin Hotel you were quite literally at your lowest; losing your only job since arriving in Hell and having been kicked to the curb. However, since getting there it has done nothing but good for you. You have gained a new home, safety, and a small community to be a part of, so you’ve done everything you could to be helpful to its’ cause.

Quickly Lucifer had caught sight of this, and you were able to form a valuable comradery between the two of you in your efforts to help Charlie. Almost instantly the two of you clicked, from being able to share similar senses of humor and a mutual hate towards Alastor the bond you formed made the two of you stronger. However, you never really spoke of your past with the King of Hell. You were scared that it may put him off, or disgust him, and he would no longer want to be friends with you. You knew how he used to feel for sinners, and you didn’t want to give him any reason to hate you.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You and Charlie were up early that morning making breakfast together for the other residents of the hotel. Cheerful music played and flowed through out the kitchen as the two of you hummed and worked at a steady rhythm together filling the area with an aroma of sweet, fluffy pancakes and scrambled, seasoned eggs. A small smile formed on your face as you looked towards the princess who was hard at work.

“Do you think we should make some bacon too?”

Charlie’s warm humming finished, and her long blonde hair flipped to the side, as she turned to look back and answer you.

“OOooh! If you’re finished that would be great!”

With a small nod, you made sure to push all of the yellow fluffy eggs to separate dish as you worked on placing the strips onto the hot pan. The meat sizzled and popped within the grease that pooled below. By the time the food was officially cooked, a few of the others had joined the two of you in the kitchen, and started to make their own plates, eating happily at the dining table and island that the vibrant room held. For the others that hadn’t arrived, like Husk and Lucifer, you joined the princess in setting nice trays to bring up to their other rooms. Then for a final touch you placed a small glass vase on each of the trays with a small set of flowers that Charlie had brought inside. Abruptly, after the two of you finished, a rush of dark green smoke enclosed the trays, and pulled them away to the doors of the respective residents.

After feeling the chilling magic send the food away, you glance over to Alastor who gave you a bone-rattling grin and turned back away to eat your own breakfast with your friends. You decided to take a seat next to your old work friend, who sent you a much warmer smile, and settled your fingers around some silverware to pick up bites of the pancakes you helped make.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

While everyone was eating together Lucifer was hard at work in his workshop putting together a specialized, custom rubber duck. He had spent several days on this, creating different prototypes, but never was fully satisfied with the result. He wanted, no needed, for this one to be perfect so that he could present it to you. Maybe then he could have some confidence to finally ask you out. He had been tiptoeing around the idea for a while now, but it never seemed like the right moment for him. Of course, he worried that you would reject him, how couldn’t he be?

While he continued his tinkering the king turned on some background noise to accompany him. Lucifer wouldn't normally watch or enjoy television because he believes it scrambles the brain, but during his stay at the hotel he has astutely learned that using current technology is a sure-fire way to piss off the radio demon, so naturally he invested in one for his room. He was grateful for it too because it was able to help him tune out any wandering thoughts, totally not about you, that normally invaded his mind during the noiseless hours.

Quiet clicks sounded from underneath his hand as he screwed together a small piece to place inside of the little rubber gift, but before he could finish with the piece Lucifer whipped his head around to the abrupt sound of knocks that resonated throughout his room.

“Char Char?”

He called towards the door but didn’t get an answer. The blonde groaned lightly as he stood from his work bench and stretched out, rolling away the strain his muscles had from his sitting position. Satisfied after a few stretches, he started his trek towards the door. Lucifer barely noticed, but the television shifted to another movie after the previous finished as he walked past. Once he placed his hand on his golden doorknob, he turned it to open and revealed a mahogany tray with a couple plates full of a nutritious breakfast, a tall glass of apple juice, and a small glass vase with a set of orchids. Then next to it was a small bottle of golden syrup and a folded note. On the note was a wish good morning with small hearts drawn to it, in your handwriting. A small smile painted its way across his face as he looked over the tray. Slowly Lucifer bent over to grab the little slip of paper, and traced his thumb over the ink as he stood back up. She's so sweet. His heart warmed as he looked it over and reignited his motivation to finish his small gift.

Inspired to get back to work, Lucifer was quick to bend over once again and pick up the tray you and Charlie set up for him, however he was interrupted by the echo of a familiar voice. Before he could identify who it was, he turned his head to look through the hallway, to no avail. Then he heard it again, a little clearer now, he recognized that it was coming from behind him, and Lucifer turned back towards his room. Calling towards the room, he searched for the source and soon inferred that it was your own. Leaving the door to close behind him, he turned his head towards the large television that stood over a grand dresser, and soon his jaw dropped. On the screen held an image of you in elegant clothing, arguing with some other sinner that you were with. He froze, mouth remaining slack, and eyes widened as he watched the film. The script seemed quite cheesy and dramatic, but he had never seen you like this, and he especially didn’t know that you had been involved in recording a film, and a lead at that. Once the initial surprise weared away, he took a few steps away towards a bed that stood across the television and sat, watching the movie closely.

He remained entranced and engaged with the film as it continued. Lucifer was mesmerized with your acting as your character involved herself in more and more romantic activities with the character that filled the role of being your “love interest”. He couldn’t believe or understand why you had held this away from him. You were good, really good. Lucifer continued to watch as the two main characters were put in a room together, only to realize that there was only one bed to share. He chuckled lightly to himself at the predictable nature of it all as he leaned his head against his hand. However, after a few more moments, he wasn’t able to keep such a comfortable position. The scene had quickly shifted towards something more pornographic. His eyes widened once again, and he roughly wrapped his hand around his mouth as loud moans flooded past your lips from the love interest’s touch.

He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised that the film had took this turn, it was hell after all, but his body tensed as he watched your hands wander down the other actor’s chest and before he could stop it, rapidly his own mind wandered on and imagined how your touch would feel on himself.

“Shit shit shit…”

Logic told him that he shouldn’t watch any further, especially since you hadn’t even told him about this, and he was about to leap towards the remote until he saw the camera zoomed in towards you and your passionate touch, causing only more torture for the poor devil. His face flushed, and it wasn’t too long until his hardened arousal started to pull his attention towards it. He felt small twitches under his boxers after every exaggerated moan that the speakers poured out, and soon he felt the absent-minded need to buck his hips for any friction that he could get.

“Fuckkkkk..”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You remained content in the kitchen, sitting close to your friends, and slowly eating the food off your plate as you made small conversation. You laughed lightly as you watched Angel continue to tease another sinner from across the table throughout the meal, and after you finished the last few bites of your fluffy eggs you took the opportunity to help Charlie. Taking your dishes and a few plates from the others that had finished before you, you made your way across the kitchen to the large steel sink. You easily rinsed off any of the remains that were left behind, before filling the vessel with hot soapy water and starting your task of scrubbing away anything that you may have missed.

The princess was quick to take her place next to you, grabbing a small towel, drying off the ceramics, and putting them away. It was a successful meal that the two of you started together and now cleaning away together. Soon some of the others brought over their plates and left the kitchen after giving the two of you a thanks. Then, Angel Dust was the last one to walk over.

“Thanks toots, delicious as always.”

You gave the spider demon a smile and a nod as you continue scrubbing with the yellow sponge, not expecting anything more out of the conversation.

“Short king never came down, disappointed?”

Of course. He nudged you with his elbow as small flush ran across your face. The actor never hesitated to tease you about your relationship with Lucifer; you rolled your eyes towards the demon, and lightly gestured towards the princess as you looked back at him. Hoping the knowledge of her being there would shut him up.

“What are you trying to say?”

Angel Dust looked you up and down and raised his brows in response with a smug smirk laid across his face. He hummed lightly, waiting patiently as Charlie finally took a few steps away to put away some of the dishes she had dried.

“You should go up there, finally make a move toots.. Alone~”

This again? A small scoff escaped you, and you turned your head to look over to the spider as you set a clean cup to the side. You caught sight of his wiggling eyebrows and let out a small laugh.

“Angel, you know I won’t”

He shook his head and rested one of his hands on his hip. He was getting tired of this song and dance between the two of you.

“And why not?”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow at him before you returned to your task, explaining your reasoning once again.

“First off, I don’t think he feels that way.”

Before Angel could interrupt you, you speak a little louder and look back at him as you continue.

“Second! I don’t know if he would like me if he knew what I used to do. What if he finds out and he’s disgusted?”

A light laugh runs out of the actor, and he rests one of his elbows onto your shoulder as he leans down against you.

“Sweet cheeks you were hot in those films, 10/10, if he saw them, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.”

Before you could respond, Charlie spoke up brightly from behind you. You didn’t even realize she was back to dry more dishes.

“Whatcha guys talking about?”

You whipped your head around to respond frantically, but the arachnid beat you to it.

“Oh, I was just tellin her she should go check on your dad.”

You wanted to send the spider demon a glare, but Charlie looked over to you with a glittering grin.

“Oh, that’s a great idea! He’s probably working on something, and you know how he can get tunnel visioned when he works on something!”

Charlie giggles lightly thinking over her father’s small quirk, as she looks over to you.

“I don’t want to leave you to clean everything Charlie.”

You retorted, trying to escape the spider demon’s incessant setup. You wouldn’t hear the end of it if you went up there.

“Oh, don’t worry toots, I can help her!”

Charlie looked over to Angel with practically sparkling eyes, and then back to you insisting that you should go. Heavy drops of frustration started to fill you, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to back out.

“Okay! but I’ll be back with his dishes, okay?”

You gave the two of them a reminder of the tray that you helped set up for him this morning and stepped away to dry off your hands. You shoved the wet sponge towards your old work friend and started to walk out of the kitchen. Your last view of the two in the kitchen was Charlie back to being hard at work, and Angel Dust using two of his limbs to make an erotic gesture, and one other to make a phone next to his ear. You flipped him off as you made your way out and started your trek to the elevator.

As you arrived at his floor, you stepped through the engraved elevator doors, and walked towards his suite at the other end of the hall. It wasn’t too long before you were in front of his door. The mahogany tray was still there, left abandoned and now cold to your dismay. You worried over Lucifer. Had he really been that distracted with his project to not answer his door? You just hoped that was the issue, and he wasn’t spiraling again. You started to speak as you twisted the gold encrusted doorknob open.

“Lucifer! You missed your breakfast, are yo-?”

As you slipped the door open, a mixture of moans started to pour past the large crack. You froze until you had heard a recorded line.

“YY-yeah useee mee~”

Is that?? Your heart started to rapidly pound against your chest as you realized that Lucifer could have been watching a rerun of one of your films. Shame pulled your heart strings. You pushed open the door, tray still in hand, and words were ready to fumble past your lips to try to explain yourself. A small click sounded behind you as the door shut behind you, and your jaw dropped at the sight. You looked towards the television to reaffirm your thoughts, then back at Lucifer. Fuck he's gorgeous. He laid against his mattress unabashedly pumping his member, as his head leaned against his headboard. The pretty sight caused a strong heat to swiftly pool within you, and your thighs quivered with anticipation. You felt a strong fiery magnetic pull force you to take a step towards further, and before you even realized the heavy tray you held had tipped forward in your lack of attention towards it.

—--------------------------

Before you even arrived at his door, Lucifer groaned down at his predicament, and looked back towards the screen to see a large image of your cheek pressed against the others sinner’s cock. His eyes bulged at the sight, and his body grew more desperate for relief. His teeth clamped down onto his bottom lip as he worked through the choice whether or not to relieve himself or not, and quickly decided to go against his better judgment for it. The blonde huffs, pushing his pants and boxers down and away to quickly rid himself of this issue. Lucifer revealed his desperate standing member, that already had started leaking precum running down his length, leaving it slick and ravenous for friction.

He grunted as he felt the cool air against him and wrapped his hand around it. Lucifer started slow strokes up and down the whole of his length. His head leaned back, hitting the top of his headboard, as he continued the slow pace. Lewd noises from the film flooded his ears, as his mind ran through images of you: your tongue running up the side of cock, wrapping your pretty lips around him, and taking him fully down your throat as you did on the screen in front of him. Then to other images: pushing himself deep inside of you, making you scream his name, and screaming your own in return. Eventually low groans started to leave his throat as he started to quicken his pace, and his eyes fell shut. As Lucifer started to rapidly rush down the course of an orgasm, his free hand gripped the sheets next to him, and low repeated whimpers of your name slid off his lips like a prayer.

Just as he found himself on the edge, a loud crash and shatter reverberated around his room. Panic rushed his veins, as he abruptly ripped his hand away from his length to hastily jerk up a blanket up and across his body. Lucifer then looked towards the source of his interruption and saw you. Shame, overwhelming shame, filled him as he saw you. What was he thinking!? There was no hiding the humiliation he felt. You stood just inside of his door, breakfast tray slightly tipped forward and your eyes rapidly switched between him and the television on his wall. Lucifer worried that you would scream at him, and rid your relationship with him all together, but instead the quick realization of the mess you had created had you setting the tray down. He watched in shock as you got on your knees to attempt to clean the spilled apple juice, and shattered vase. As you were about to grab the first piece of glass, he snapped his fingers, poofing any of the messy evidence away. You looked back up at him and watched him as countless apologies started to fumble its way out of his throat.

His glossy eyes stared over to you as you approach his bed to sit on the edge, feeling the overwhelming warmth cover your face as you look over towards him.

“I- it’s okay… I mean that’s what it’s for.”

Slightly unsure of yourself, you crawl a little closer to the man, and he backs up until his back hits flush against his headboard. Lucifer remained ashamed of his actions but grew slightly confused as he watched you get closer, getting more aroused by your actions. You stopped crawling, your weight now falling onto your knees once you were close, sitting in front of him.

“And you’re not grossed out?”

“What? No?”

You asked as you looked over to him, with worrisome eyes, and Lucifer looked back at you with concern and a large bundle of confusion. He shook his head feverishly and waved his hands. Why would he be grossed out? You should be the one that was repulsed by him. He yearned to move forward and comfort you but stayed like stone in his spot, as to not make you uncomfortable. His answer was enough to push away some of your insecurities as you continued.

“Is that what you want?”

You gestured towards the screen that continued to play, now on a scene of you riding the love interest of the film. Lucifer gulped slightly as his eyes turned back to the television, feeling his cock sinfully twitch once again in anticipation from the film. Then he turned his head back to you, who stared back at him wantonly.

“N-not exactly…”

Were you assuming wrong?? A small panic raced through you, and stuttered your actions, but allowed him to continue. He saw the panic in your eyes. Realizing his fuck up, he continued to fumble through his stuttered words.

“Wait! No, no no no n-no! What I mean is.. I.. I want you.. I need you.”

He emphasized his last words as he leaned forward towards you. Your own heart stutters from his statement and pushed your thighs together slightly as you allowed your hand to move up and brush off some of the sweat that collected across his brow. Then you gently held his face, tracing his cheek with your thumb as you met his softened eyes with your own.

“I need you too.”

His lip trembled slightly from your words, and he pushed himself forward off his hands. Then a small smile pulled at your lips, as you met him in the middle to press your soft lips against his. Your heart continued to pound hard against your chest as your lips met. Feeling the euphoria of finally being in the moment you wished for so long. The first kiss was gentle and slow, as you continued to trace gentle circles across his cheek. Lucifer chased after your touch for a moment as you pulled away to look at him, and he looked into your eyes. His own woozy smile graced his blushed face after the shared high of your first kiss and after you laughed lightly at his expression. Once you pushed away the pieces of blonde hair that had fallen out of place, you moved forward to kiss him once again.

Soon your lips pressed further against his, and the pace picked up to a more feverish one. Taking initiative, you opened your mouth a little to allow passage for your tongue to brush against his bottom lip. He almost too hastily opened his mouth to match yours and you started to massage your tongue against his skinnier split one. He melts further into your touch, proving himself to be like puddy in your hands. A smirk spreads across your face as an idea hits you, and with a slow hand you place your fingers onto the edge of the blanket he hastily threw over himself to bring it down. Lucifer pulled his face away from yours, and his breath broke into heavy, hot pants as he wipes away the saliva that connected the two of you.

“Y-you don’t have to!”

Lucifer stares into your eyes, worried that the two of you were advancing further than you were more comfortable with. You bit your bottom lip, grateful for his kindness, as you reassure him.

“I want to help you finish your movie, Luci. Would you like that?”

Your voice carried a seductive edge, and Lucifer swallowed hard while nodding eagerly in response. With a small giggle, you returned to slowly removing the blanket from him. He clenches the sheets beside him in anticipation and bites his lip down hard. The ravenous look you held had him feeling desperate for your touch. As you finally pulled the covering past his waist, you got an up-close view of his hardened arousal. It stood tall, leaning against his stomach, practically quivering, anxious for more. You quickly threw the cover away as you stared down at the sight. The pure white member was slick with large amounts of his precum, and the head’s color was a pretty pink contrasting from the rest of him. Pushing past the thoughts of pouncing on him right there, you looked back up at him as you tugged his shirt lightly. He helped your efforts and practically ripped off his shirt as you pulled his pants past his hooves to leave them abandoned on the ground away from you.

Breathlessly you looked his body over, admiring his pale white skin that was warm to the touch. He truly was Heaven’s prettiest angel.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Your hand traced his chest and stomach as you whispered. He picked up on your compliment and if he could blush more, he felt it. Lucifer watched you as you looked back towards the film, and realized you were just on time for the next scene. Your lips pulled to a tight-lined smirk as you moved to sit on your knees to his side, and he looked over to you slightly confused.

“If you need me to stop, tell me, okay?”

Lucifer nodded towards you at your request, but the king hadn’t completely comprehended what you had suggested earlier, not quite understanding why you were at his side now. Amused, you laugh lightly and grasp his chin to lead his sight back towards the screen. Leaning in close, he felt your hot breath against the shell of his ear.

“The movie, pretty boy.”

You cooed, and he quickly put the points together. Realizing the teasing he was probably about to endure he bit back a whimper and stared back at the screen. The television displayed an exaggerated scene. The camera zoomed in showing only you as you started to grind against the other actor. Your moans streamed out the speakers, helping you overwhelm his senses. His cock twitched against his stomach, and luckily for him your hand gently wrapped around him. Lucifer felt a fleeting sense of relief as you touched him, and you started to press small pecks against the lid of his ear. You prompted leisurely pumping him at a slow pace, aiming to pull any pleasure out of him you could, as you continued your sweet affection across his ear and down his neck. Continuous translucent pearls ran past his slit, sliding down his head. A grin grew across your face at the sight, as you rubbed the slick precum up and down his member.

It was pure torture for him to only watch this fake version of you, and agony to keep his hands to his side. You continued your cruel pace up and down, and Lucifer writhed and moaned from your strokes. You eagerly continued to fulfill your incessant need to pull more of these precious sounds, and luckily for him you allowed his hip movements, but you kept stopping those in mind for the future. Lucifer started to plead between his desperate gasps and moans.

“Please.. p-please faster.”

You obliged and picked up the pace to keep a quick momentum. Your small pecks changed to more exchanges between open mouths kisses and small bites against his chin and neck. His own breath picked up and grew more ragged as he clenched his eyes, focusing on the waves of pleasure. Noticing this, you lectured him with a teasing tone.

“Ah. Ah… Luciii~ the movie?”

Lucifer whimpered, and obediently forced his eyes open to watch the film. His jaw fell, and remained open as continuous moans left his throat. His legs quivered, and his hips bucked up into your grasp as he felt a tight thread start to rapidly coil within him.

“Fuck FUUuck, Yes! I- I’m gonna-!”

As Lucifer started to rolling towards the edge, you ripped your hand away from his member. A loud whine escaped from him as he continued rutting his hips up searching for the friction that was taken away from him. Before he could complain, you explained your cruel punishment.

“You’re not even close to the end yet Lu~.”

He turned his head to look back at you. Lucifer had been pulled away from two orgasms now. Sweat soaked his skin, his cheeks flushed, and drool colored with a hint of golden blood ran past his lips leaving a glimmering line down his chin. His desperate expression forced a tingling heat started to pool within you, and you felt your own panties slick beneath you from your arousal.

“Can’t you at least finish this scene for me?”

Lucifer hesitantly agreed, nodding toward you and reluctantly turned his eyes back towards the film. His body tensed lightly as he prepared himself for what was next. A mischievous grin twisted your lips upwards, as you wrapped your fingers around him once again. You returned to the pace that you left off with, and he choked back his breath from the brutal swift pace. He begged out to you, whimpering out your name as he writhed under your touch. Ironically, he wanted to pray for release.

“What…? I thought you wanted me to go fast Luci~?”

The next few minutes felt like hours, as the scene continued on. It was truly addicting for you watching the painful pleasure you brought him with simple strokes, feeling your own body slick and wanting for more.

Lucifer never asked you to stop, so you edged him on and on, pulling away if you needed to keep him from releasing until you recognized that the pornographic scene was close to the finish. Enthusiastically, you prepared yourself to finally fulfill his wish. Keeping your strokes steady, he watched with surprise as you moved your place back in front of the man and gave him a warm smile as you leaned forward to lick his weeping head. The new sensation had Lucifer’s head reeling as he absent-mindedly bucked his hips forward. As you continued, you hallowed your cheeks, and wrapped your perfect wet lips around him, taking him fully down your throat. Lucifer practically saw stars as his cock was engulfed down your throat. Your eyes gazed up at him, as you practiced your skill, tracing your tongue up and down the side of him as you pushed your head up and down at a steady pace.

“S-so so so perfect.. F-feels soo good!"

Lucifer’s eyes stayed fixated on you as you used your freehand to lead his own to your hair. He eagerly took the opportunity and wrapped his fingers through your hair pulling it as softly as he could in his predicament. Quickly the familiar feeling of the thread coil tightens, and you were able to understand him instantly as he pleaded with you once again. Though this time, you gave him your acceptance with a small nod, and not a second later he was seeing stars.

“Ahhh fuck! Th-thank thank you thank you!”

His glazed over eyes clamped and he clenched his teeth as his head hit his headboard. Lucifer felt his mind stop as shockwaves of rippling pleasure ripped its way through him. His body jerked up from underneath you, and you kept your lips wrapped tightly around the tip as you gave him slow strokes to help him through his orgasm. You swallowed the thick spurts of his seed that leapt out of him, making sure to collect everything before you pull yourself off of him. He watched eagerly as you licked your lips and took in the addicting sweet taste of his angelic cum. Wiping away any of the left-over fluid across your chin, you made your way over back to his side and placed a gentle kiss to his cheek. You cooed, whispering sweet things into his ear, as you held his hand, and rubbing your thumb gently over his knuckles.

Once he was finally able to form a full thought, a wobbly smile formed across his face as he leaned his weight onto you. He took in a deep breath before pulling your knuckles to his lips to place a gentle kiss to the surface. A small sigh escaped from you from his soft touch, and you looked over to view his tiresome glow. After a few moments, a light tug of concern pulled at your heart, as you worried about the small possibility that you may have gone too far for a first time.

“It wasn’t too much was it?”

He rigorously shook his head before he turned his body fully to look into your eyes.

“No… no! you were perfect hun.”

You matched his gaze, and the tender affection that radiated off his expression gripped your heart. He traced gentle shapes on your knee and moved forward to press his lips lovingly against yours. His warm fingers weaved through your hair and held you close. You felt his lips turn up against yours, and he pulled himself flush against your chest as your arms naturally wrapped around his neck. Lucifer pulled himself away before leaning his damp forehead against yours. As the two of you remained in your place, a silent peace fell on you. He was the first to break it with a hesitant whisper.

“I love you..”

You picked up your hand from around his neck to trail through his hair as you reciprocated his words.

“I love you too.”

You could feel you heart thumping in her chest, as the two of you meet together in the middle. Warmth flowed between them during this gentle, slow moment, and Lucifer achingly dragged his claws down the bottom of your thighs until he was able to hook his hands under your knees. With his hands anchored in your legs he pulled you up until you sat on his lap. Instinctively your legs wrapped around his waist and Lucifer’s lips pulled away only just enough from you to share his shaky hot breath.

“Please, let me make you feel good too.”

The blooming heat within you was fertilized with his words, and you agreed to his request with a low whisper, and he gratefully took this opportunity using your position to lift you and lay you against the cool sheets. A light gasp escaped you as he brushed your hair out of the way and traced his lips down the side of your neck. Once he reached the crook of it, he grazed his teeth against it, receiving a delightful shiver from you. His lips turn up against your skin, and his tongue moves past to roll over your sensitive skin as he moves one of his hands from your thigh to bunch your shirt up past your chest. Your breath hitches as his hot black claws tenderly trails from your navel up to your chest to cup and fondle your breasts. Mindlessly your head pushes back against the plush pillow, and heavy gasps pour out of you as he starts to circle of areola, and gently roll your nipple between his forefinger and thumb sending shockwaves to your abdomen. Lucifer readily moves down to be between your breasts and continues his nipping slowly down towards your navel, pushing your pants and damp underwear down during the process. As his attempts to remove your clothing gets blocked by himself between you, he sits back and is able to get a full view of your sensual state. His mind reels at the sight. Your eyes were half-lidded, holding a hungry expression, and your mouth hung open just enough to allow heated pants to run past your lips as you stared over at him. Slowly small marks started to show, decorating your skin from his previous nipping. Your arms laid at your side after being taken away from his neck as he laid back, waiting to return to their earlier position.

“So.. beautiful...”

He muttered under his breath as he pushes the clothing past your legs to throw off beside him and sinks down to his spot between your legs. You watch him plop down between your thighs, and suddenly the sound of his breath hitching runs to your ears as he examines the hot, soaked, slit that laid there. As he continued leaving feather-light kisses on your inner thighs, you feel the soft circles Lucifer draws around the sensitive core that had your deep entrance clenching for more. Your hand made their way to his blonde hair and his eyes remained straight on you, entranced by the small sounds that slipped from your throat and the view of your glistening cunt, as he riled you further. As one of his prolonged circles ended at the bottom of your entrance, your breath gets ripped from your lungs as he plunges one of his fingers deep inside you. Lucifer had to steady his foggy brain after feeling you: hot, soaked, tight, and pulsing around him. The blonde thought that he could practically cum right there just from the feeling of you. Slowly he starts to make a consistent pace, thrusting his finger in and out, and in and out of you all while curling it upwards to pull the most pleasure from you. Your head tipped back, and your toes curled as the heavenly drag of the tip of his finger, reached in places your own couldn’t, and sent your shockwaves to your core. He adored this; Lucifer wanted nothing but to please you, to treat you like the goddess he felt you were. It wasn’t too long until moans and praises pleaded for more.

“Sh-shit Luci.. So.. good for me..”

His eyes glimmered from the praise, as he stared up at you from your slit, deeply into your eyes as he continued, making sure to study your reaction to find what exactly made you feel absolutely and utterly blissful. Not even a moment later his lips parted allowing his tongue slip through, and he made quick work to flick it up across your pleading clit. The sudden wet attention had your hips bucking from underneath him, against his face and hand. Sonorous moans continuously gushed out of you. He excitedly continued his attention inside you, as he started to suck the sensitive bud intently as he continued to flick his tongue up it at the same pace of his finger. Your tight grasp started to pull at his scalp, and hot white pleasure overwhelmed your mind, as you arched your back up off the bed. Lucifer pleaded with pent-up whine came from between your legs as you tugged his hair. Then soon a skinny scaly tendril wrapped around one of your thighs joining his other hand to pull it back as Lucifer plunged another finger with the other, causing the tight thread that started it’s endless knotting within you threatening to split.

“F-Fuck Love I’m gonna-!”

Your toes curl at the feeling and your melodic warnings of the impending results of his touch graced his ears. Lucifer was unrelenting, continuing this pace as he aimed to tip you over that edge. A few seconds later you felt the thread snap, causing your legs to tremble under his touch, and your back arched further up from the bed. Harmonious whines and moans flooded out of you as trails hot fire overtook your mind and body while you released from underneath him. Lucifer calmed the pace of his fingers down, and watched, mesmerized by you and your walls pulling his fingers further as he helped you ride out your orgasm. As the arch of your back relaxed, and your breathing steadied, he slowly slipped his fingers out of your tight grip.

“Sooo gorgeous hun, and so…”

He spoke lowly as Lucifer moved up to face you and positioned his hips back in between your soft thighs. Slowly his fingers were placed to the surface of his lips, pushing past, as he made a show of sucking the slick that coated him. A heavy breath fell to your ears as he allows the fingers to leave his mouth and used his tongue to lick his fingers frivolously. A smirk paints his expression as your eyes met his once again.

“... delicious..”

You couldn’t help but smile back at him as you see his face. You admired his expression as you saw his chin glisten with your slick and saliva and his half-lidded eyes looked towards you like you were the sweetest dessert he had ever tasted. A whisper of a laugh falls out of you between heavy breaths, as your arms wrapped tightly around the back of his neck, and the tips of your fingers raked through his blonde locks.

Delicately, he held your cheek to lean forward and give you another honey-sweet kiss. For a while it remained as tender and sugary as it started. His lips parted to massage his tongue against yours, and you could taste a faint hint of his blood and you spread across it. You would live in this fleeting moment of connection forever if it hadn't been for the damned need to take a breath. As the contact between the two of you was split, Lucifer could feel your heated breaths against his cheeks. The two of you cherished each other's comfort as you pressed your foreheads against each other once again. A soft smile graced his lips as he savored being with you and held you close.

It wasn’t long till the blonde started to feel the natural need to have you closer. Then he pulled you up against him; your legs instinctively wrapped their way around his hips again. However, your breath picked up as you felt his newly, almost forgotten, arousal against your core, and watched as a guttural groan sneaked its way past his clenched teeth. You looked over to him and whispered to open his now clamped eyes.

“Luci...”

His eyes flickered back to yours as you spoke and felt as his breath hitches at the sight. He looked towards you lovingly; You practically glowed beneath him. Your own breath was bated, and your eyes brimmed with an emotional passion, and fervor. You may have been in an intimate position, but this was so much more than the film he was watching before, and he was relishing having you.

All of you with him.

“Fuck me Love…”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bonus Scene:

Angel Dust continued cleaning the resident’s dishes and took over drying them as the princess moved on to round up the other sinners for an exercise. Then the engraved kitchen doors creaked open with a groan. He didn’t question it too much as he saw the feline bartender stepped in and brought the now only half-empty tray to the sink. A simple clink sounded besides the arachnid as the tray was set against the counter, and Angel looked towards Husk with a raised eyebrow.

“Not hungry or what?”

Husk looked back to him after he strolled towards the coffee machine and rubbed his temple, trying to will away a migraine that started to form.

“No, those two are finally fucking.”

He could hear the creaking and moaning through the floors. Angel Dust’s jaw dropped as he set his rag and plate down, and the corners of his lips curved devilishly.

“Hell yeah finally! That’s all me baby! I did that! Pay the fuck up!”

Husk grumbled with a small roll of the eyes, and turned back to him after he poured the black steaming liquid into his mud. The pornstar looked back to him with his hand outstretched and a smug grin that revealed his shining golden tooth, but despite Husk’s small frustrations he handed over the twenty that Angel was looking for.

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a/n: Haha poor Husk, anyway, hope you enjoyed! <333

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #fanfiction #fem reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer smut #hazbin hotel fanart

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ncsdlr · 24 hours

Text

A Ride

SMUT || MDNI+18

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: hook up? impulsive decisions, reader is in a gang but i didn't mention it in the fic, biker!reader, gn!reader but its suggested that they have a peen.

A/N: I'm starting to like how my summer break is going

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"Hey!"

Natasha turned her head to look at the biker at a stop light who yelled for her. She clutched her bag of groceries at her side as she eyed the biker.

"You wanna ride?" you asked, causally, as you revved your bike, glancing at the red light that still shone at you. "I got a spare helmet."

****

This was wrong. As an avenger, Natasha should know that an impulsive decision like this one was not the right move. But, in her head, she was like, "Ah, fuck it."

So here Natasha was, backpacking for a person she did not know the name of. She held on tightly to the biker's waist, her arms wrapped tightly around the person, while her hands were clasped together at the person's front.

You, on the other hand, were having the time of your life, smiling from ear to ear behind your helmet. Honestly, you didn't think Natasha would actually hop onto your bike and join you on your journey. Truly, you thought she would just walk away. But she did and now here you were.

Better get that wallet ready.

As you parked your bike, you twisted your body around and lifted Natasha off of her seat, placing her on the ground and then patting the top of her head like she were...a child.

You slid yourself off your bike, and removed your helmet, flinging your head around to get your hair to settle. You looked at Natasha and saw her visor aimed at you, a silhouette of her eyes behind it barely visible to you. You walked around your bike and stopped in front of Natasha, lifting the helmet off her head while she kept silent.

You didn't know if that was a good sign or not.

"I don't know if you've already eaten or not, but I'm hungry so we're gonna eat." You turned to the doorway to your favorite diner, grabbed Natasha's hand, and pulled her with you without much thought.

You turned bright red, but luckily Natasha couldn't see how your face replicated a tomato right about now. Natasha stared at your joined hands the whole way through the double doors of the diner.

Natasha stepped into pace with you, still gripping your hand while the both of you stood in the short line at the cashier. As your turn to order came, Natasha's other hand came to hold onto your bicep, resting her head there lightly too.

"...and Nat'll have," you turned Natasha, "What'll you have, hon'?"

"I'll have the burger with the fries," she smiled.

"That, yeah, that, uhm..."

The two of you found your seats in the back, a little secluded, but you expected it from Natasha. The food was served rather quickly and you dove into yours head first while Natasha watched you with curious eyes.

"You always eat like that?"

You looked up at Natasha halfway through a bite of your Bacon Cheeseburger, before pulling away and smacking the drool off your lips.

"Yeah, pretty much. I'm Y/N, by the way. I realized just know I never introduced myself." Natasha nodded, undressing her own burger and taking a bite out of it.

****

As an avenger, Natasha shouldn't be doing this. She really shouldn't be doing this.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

But she really didn't care.

"Oh, my god. I'm gonna cum!"

Sadistically, you shushed the redhead, "Shh, shh, you don't want the waiters out to know you're a whore, do you, Natasha?"

Natasha made a sound that resembled a 'no' or something like that. It's not like you cared to understand it anyway. Currently, you were focused on keeping your thrust perfectly rhythmic, the pleasure of the woman bent over the sink in front of you at the forefront of your mind.

"You're gonna cum, right?" Your fingers found the woman's clit between her slicked-up thighs, fondling it with your two middle fingers as you spoke, "Fucking cum, I fucking dare you."

with your free hand, you pulled one of Natasha's legs up and propped it over the sink, prompting her to hold herself up with a hand on the bathroom mirror. You had other plans, though, pulling Natasha back against your body by her throat as her leg settled, your thrusts remaining ever consistent, hitting that special spot deep inside her sodden cunt.

"I'm cumming, I'm cumming so hard," came her choked warning.

"Do it, but be fucking quiet."

Natasha's body shook in your hold, her body nearly falling over as her legs quaked beneath her. Her screams were silent, her mouth falling open, her throat constricting to hold her moans in, her eyes screwing shut, her grip on the sink almost enough to crack it.

You kept your hips pistoning into her, slowly but deeply, watching Natasha's face in the mirror. She looked so fucking hot like that, sweaty and red and flustered. So hot, you thought.

"This means I win, right?" You panted.

Natasha breathed heavily, meeting your blown-out eyes, with her glossy ones, "Fuck you, you win."

You peck Natasha's shoulder softly, still looking into her eyes through the foggy mirror with a smug smirk, "A deal's a deal, I get to take you on a real date tomorrow."

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"You are not taking me here tomorrow."

"Why not?"

"Y/N, did you not see the way they were all looking at us when we left?!"

"Hey, that's your fault. I told you to be quiet!"

"I couldn't stay quiet!"

"That's kinda like saying I fucked you good."

"Shut up, just drive me back to the compound!"

#mcu #marvel #avengers #lgbtq #natasha romanoff #black widow #gxg smut #natasha romanoff x reader smut #smut #wlw smut #x reader #gn reader

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beautifulchris · 3 days

Text

obsessed

pairing: dancer!lee minho x videographer!gn!reader

summary: minho was the most perfect guy you had the privilege of encountering—and working with. without even trying—or meaning to—, he got you wrapped around his fingers

genres: fluff, angst, strangers to lovers to exes!au, colleagues!au, first person pov!!

wc: 4,4k

tw: obsession, toxic relationship, swearing (in lyrics only, who would've thought), violence, injuries, mention of blood

notes: heyyy! this fic is part of my collection of fics! indented are the lyrics, banner made by me on canva. andddd i'd appreaciate it greatly if you could tell me what you thought about it!! happy reading!

listen to the song for a more immersive experience: spotify link | youtube link

networks: @kflixnet @k-labels @kwritersworld @whipped-kpop-creators @straykidsland

permanent tag list: @soobin-chois @exfolitae @linos-catnip @prettymiye0n (tell me if you want to be added/removed)

stray kids tag list: @raethethey

Lee Minho (1998).

Have you seen this man?

Perfect skin, heart face shape, a sharp nose, wide cheekbones, cat-like eyes, long eyelashes and pretty, pouty lips.

The moment I laid eyes on him, I knew it was over. He was just so attractive, always walking like he owned the place, and, without realizing it, I became infatuated with him.

I was a newbie videographer in this dancing company called Twinkle Toes. Yes, I did apply there because of its name, being an ATLA fan and all. Anyway, Minho was the best dancer they had.

The obsession started when I first saw him dance. His technique and control were perfect, I could clearly see why he was a professional dancer. All the fluid and effortlessly looking movements he made gave me goosebumps every time I was behind the camera. Or anywhere inside the room, really.

I approached him first. Complimented him on his dancing, which seemed to please him. I kept being supportive and throwing seductive glances his way every now and then. I became hungry for his attention.

Oh, my Lord, never met someone like you before Think I'm kinda going overboard Now I'm obsessed, how can somebody be so perfect? Boy, you really got me by the neck Whatever you want, you just gotta ask

I made no secret of my admiration. Soon, everybody knew but I couldn’t care less.

“You’re so strong, Minho,” I mused from behind the camera. “Thanks to your efforts, the video will come out perfectly.”

He failed to suppress a smile, yet dismissed the compliment with a vague movement of his hand. “It’s a team effort.”

Of course, I knew that. Yeah. The fourteen other dancers were good, but none of them were in the same league as Minho. He was above everyone in this company.

I was usually right.

After filming ended, I took my stuff—camera, tripod, laptop—and walked towards my designated studio where I could work on editing. I wasn’t totally installed when someone knocked on the door. It was so faint I thought I’d dreamed it, until they knocked again.

I opened the door, revealing a shy looking Minho, who didn’t seem to be able to meet my eyes. I found it adorable.

“Yes?”

“Uh, I… Can I come in?”

Now, why would he even want to come inside? Was my flirting so powerful that he already wanted to spend more time with me? I wasn’t one to complain about that.

“Sure,” I said, taking a step back and closing the door behind him.

“So that’s what your studio looks like,” he commented, looking around.

It was a small room with a large desk filled with everything I needed to do my job. The stuff I had with me in the danceroom plus a computer, lenses, microphones, cables, memory cards… Everything was perfectly organized. Bigger equipment—camera bags, studio light, reflectors, tripods—were tidied next to the desk. A gaming chair was in front of it, and on the other side was a two-seater sofa.

“Do you mind if I stay with you while you work?”

I smiled internally. It was so easy.

“No, of course. Are you done for the day?”

“Yeah, finally. Thanks.”

“What for?”

“For letting me stay with you.”

SCREAMING. PUNCHING THE WALL. I could’ve smacked his arm right now for saying this so casually. Sure enough, I didn’t. Instead, I motioned for him to sit on the sofa while I placed my laptop on the desk before opening it.

I could tell I was professional with how well I handled the situation I was in. I kept my desire to turn around and stare at him buried inside me as I edited the video. I had a week to finalize it for an upcoming dancing contest. I was determined to show the dancers’ best side through the video. I also tried not to show Minho too much, even though he was around 20% more present than the rest. It wasn’t my fault the videos he was in were better.

Oh, well. It was common knowledge he was our best hope at winning.

It was getting late, and I was feeling hungry. I saved my progress, switched off the computers and turned around. I’d imagined Minho to be fast asleep, as my job could be found boring from the outside. To my surprise, he was looking straight at me.

“Are you OK?” I asked, conscious he had been waiting for a long time.

See, I checked the time before closing my laptop. I had been working for a bit more than two hours.

He nodded. “Are you, though? Don’t you feel sore?”

Now that he mentioned it, I couldn’t feel my butt anymore. A common occurrence in this field. I got up, stretched arms, back, legs and unintentionally yawned.

“Do you want to get dinner?”

He seemed nervous all of a sudden. Ah, if I could make him mine right now…

“Only if you pay.”

“Deal.”

Ten minutes later, we were walking side-by-side toward a little restaurant owned by a strict-looking yet lovely grandma near our workplace. We’d eaten there before, with our coworkers.

As a typical small-business Korean restaurant, the room was approximately ten times bigger than my studio. Twelve four-seater tables were placed around the room at a relatively safe distance from each other. On every one of them were a wooden cutlery holder for four, and a matching little box full of thin napkins. The walnut-colored counter was on the far end of the room, and the hole that was supposed to be a door behind it led to the kitchen. The only thing giving a bit of privacy to the cook were white lace curtains attached to each side of the… door-shaped hole. On the left side of the room, a TV screen and posters—with pictures—of the menu were displayed on the wall. While on the right side, as well as a bathroom door, were decorations and an ‘appreciation wall’ with a lot of little notes and doodles from customers.

I wanted to sit next to it. If we ran out of things to say, we could always talk about that.

Grandma greeted us with a smile when she saw us, showing us to a table on the opposite side. “Hello grandma, can we actually sit at that one? It’s easier to watch TV there.”

Of course, I had no intention to watch TV, but no one needed to know that.

“Sure, my child, go sit. I’ll be right there.”

Thanking her, we sat right next to the rating wall.

There was one other customer closest to the counter. A regular, by the looks of it. Grandma went to the kitchen and came back with a steaming dish. She delicately put it down in front of the man before providing us with the menus. He thanked her and resumed his reading of a journal. Which I couldn’t identify because I don’t read journals.

Minho and I looked at the menu like we had no idea what to order. While I already knew what his favorite dish was, I opted for something I hadn’t tried before. You see, I like to try everything on the menu. It was a habit in restaurants I often went to. Of course, if it were to be a one-time restaurant, I would order the food that makes me salivate the most. Minho preferred savory foods. The tastier, the better.

He rapidly scanned the plastified paper on the table before looking up at me. “I’ve chosen. You?”

I straightened up, flashing my signature grin, and nodded once. “Same. Any drinks?”

“Soju?”

“Sure.”

Three young people entered the place. Grandma placed them on the left side of the room and came to us. “What would you like, my children?”

“Bulgogi bibimbap for me, please.”

“Jajangmyeon and a bottle of soju, please,” Minho ordered, taking the menu from me and giving them both back to grandma with a sweet smile.

She smiled like a lovely grandma would—contently with a hint of nostalgia.

We never got to speak about the appreciation wall nor did I once glanced at the TV, because we talked a lot and there were few moments of silence.

After that dinner, we spent a lot of time together outside the company. I believed he enjoyed my presence as much as I savored his. We flirted, went on dates every now and then, and recently started dating.

Then, around two months after our first day together, a new, talented dancer entered the company. Her body had beautiful curves. She had long, black silky hair, and toned abs. It didn’t help that she was gorgeous, social, and easygoing.

In just a few days, she had befriended the whole building. It felt like she had always been there. To my dismay, even Minho seemed to like her.

“What do you think of Soojin?” I asked as casually as manageable, considering I was eager to get an answer.

“She’s cool.” Minho shrugged, looking up at the blue sky. “And a good dancer. Why do you ask?”

How he could manage to look so ethereal under the sunlight yet give me such a soft glance was beyond my understanding. He got a hold on me, that was for sure.

“I agree, she’s good. You might have to share your spotlight in the next competitions and projects.”

He smirked. “Was about time. It’s been lonely up there.”

I knew he was joking. He never considered himself as above his colleagues. I frowned for another reason. I couldn’t ignore the thought from overwhelming me. Was I not enough for him? Was I just a pastime? I wasn’t a dancer. Was it a dealbreaker for him?

Minho’s gentle glance became a concerned stare as he stopped in his tracks. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you like me?”

He opened his mouth, but I couldn’t wait for his response.

“Am I good enough? Do you like Soojin more? Do you want to date her? Are you just playing with me?”

Because I would still be wrapped around your finger either way.

“Hey, breathe, babe. I’m here, I’m with you.”

I did as told, and my next words came out as a whisper.

“Are you though?”

“Where is all this coming from? Why would I be interested in Soojin?”

“She’s gorgeous, talented, and a sweetheart. Who wouldn’t like her?”

He smiled softly, taking my hand in his. “Is this your way of telling me you’re interested in her?”

“I’m serious.”

“You have nothing to worry about. I like you.”

I wanted to believe him, but I couldn’t get rid of the voices.

Soojin and Minho were the jewels of the company. Meaning they had way more screen time—which was my job—and training sessions together—which was their job. I had to stand behind my camera for hours while watching them dance together. Helplessly watching their bodies touch and their breaths tangle. The sensual moves made me want to break something.

Jealousy stirred up inside me, and I think it showed, because several colleagues around the room sent me looks of pity and sorry.

I knew it was just the job for Minho, but I couldn’t help it. It was beyond my control. Ever since the choreographers created this dance, I have been vile to Minho. Exposing my jealousy to him in private.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. I hate hurting you. Really. However, I can’t simply stop dancing. It’s my dream life.”

“I’m not asking you to stop doing what you love, I’m asking you to stop doing it with her!” I snapped.

“Doing that will get me fired, you know that. I told you I picture you whenever I’m dancing with her. Is it not enough?”

He was pleading, but I could sense he was tired and frustrated.

“I like you, not Soojin. I need you to understand that.”

“You say that now,” I said in a low voice, “but I see the way she looks at you.” My voice broke, and I looked away.

Minho shook his head. “Please, stop. I’m exhausted. I’m dating you, aren’t I? What more do you need to be satisfied?”

It stinged. The worst part was he didn’t scream. His voice was stern and accusing. No words would leave my lips. He took my silence as a cue to leave the toxic environment I created. I couldn’t blame him for wanting to stay away.

But I could blame someone else.

I tried to film Soojin in her less good angle, but it felt like she was flawless under any angle. It was frustrating, not even being able to compromise her while doing my job.

Minho, being smart and all, realized what I was trying to do while Soojin was doing a solo dance. His eyes were glued to me the whole time. He grabbed me by the arm the minute I finished for the day and brought all my stuff back to my studio. He made me turn around to face him.

“What did you do back there?”

I was hurt by his suspicion, even though he was right. I stood my ground and lied through my teeth. “I didn’t do anything.”

He sighed in exasperation and let go of me. “Look, I won’t say I know you because clearly, as much as I thought I did, I actually don’t. But I know you did something.” His face softened, but his lips stayed pressed in a thin line. “Please, help me understand. Why would you resent Soojin so much you’re willing to risk your job? What do I ignore?”

I was angry. Why would he defend her if nothing was happening between the two?

“Why do you care so much, Minho? Who is she to you?”

He stepped back, blinking a few times. “This again? I don’t recognize you anymore, Y/N. I thought I knew you. Since Soojin joined our crew, you’ve changed. I believe I didn’t give you any reason to be jealous of her, excluding my job. Then again, I know how to separate professional and personal matters. I chose not to where you’re concerned because I liked you. But now, I don’t think I want to do this any longer. It’s draining me, and I lost my will to fight for us.”

Wait. What?

“Are you breaking up with me? Is that it?” I sounded frantic—and I was. All I understood from his tirade was that he was leaving me, probably for her. This bitch. She dared steal my boyfriend.

“All these past weeks fighting made me reconsider our relationship. I’m sorry, Y/N. I like you, but I can’t be with you.”

He silently stared at me for a moment, hurt and determination visible on his face, before turning heels and heading out.

My legs gave out. Minho broke up with me. I had no intention to accept this. It was all this woman’s fault. She had bewitched him, I was sure of it.

When I ran into Minho the next day, he avoided looking me in the eyes. Everybody could see something was wrong. They could even sense it, as the tension was thick in the air.

“Is something wrong?” Soojin asked as she entered the room. She looked around the room and offered me a sweet and innocent smile.

I wanted to lunge at her. It took everything in me to stand still.

“Let’s get started,” the director said as soon as his left foot touched the floor. He clapped his hands, getting everyone’s attention. He stopped at the center of the room. “Today we’re going to film a two-minute promotional video for our project. I count on you, Y/N, to make this video as appealing as all the other ones you made until now.” He winked at me. “Dancers, I expect you to be in good shape. I need you to accentuate your moves.” This time, he winked at Minho and Soojin.

I was close to rip my hair out.

We did as told. While the dancers gave their all in their dancing, I moved around them with my camera to capture their moves from different angles, creating a nice flow. Nowadays, videographers would use a gimbal to provide support and stabilization, but my camescope and feet were all I needed. This type of work called for a more natural flow, which could only be done without any device.

I knew how to be professional, too, but hated every second I spent filming the top dancers sensually touching each other’s bodies, especially from this close. The looks they gave one another, were they really only professional? I wasn’t sure Minho had ever looked at me like he was staring at Soojin at this moment.

I decided to put aside my anger for the sake of my job, and made the best promotional video yet. Not that I would ever admit it, but their chemistry was undeniable and greatly increased the quality of the video.

Slowly, but surely, I watched Minho and Soojin grow closer. I tried multiple times to reconnect with him to prevent the inevitable, but he was unyielding. He wouldn’t let me touch him and refused to be in a room alone with me. I found his reactions a bit over the top and insulting. But, even worse, he seemed to be protective of Soojin, as if he was scared I would hurt her if he let her out of his sight.

I would, but it was still vexing.

If you go and get yourself somebody new I don't know what the hell I'd do But if I found out, I will go and turn up at her house Break a nail and rip her hair right out Huh, and I hope you like that I'm crazy like that

Life went on, Minho still got me by the neck unbeknownst to him, and I was still wary of Soojin. A month had passed and a new project started.

“This time, crew, the theme is love. I want to feel it, alright? Do whatever it takes. I’m not worried though, because I believe in you all.”

The little speech the director gave ended up with a round of applause and a whistle from several of the dancers. The choreographers were sending each other smirks, as if they were waiting for this moment. I, obviously, loathed the idea. I had barely managed to contain myself this past month. That was going to be torture.

I was right.

The first official practice for the dance, a week after the announcement, I was behind the camera. If I thought they were close during the past month, I was mistaken. For the most part, their bodies were colliding with each other in a way that made the young managers embarrassed. My blood boiled. If there weren’t all these people around, I would’ve ripped Soojin’s hair out already.

When the song ended, their faces were mere millimeters from one another. They closed the gap between their mouths. I heard a few gasps from the crowd. My eyes lost focus. The fury building inside me sent a throbbing pain in my head. I left the room in a hurry before I could regret my actions. The last thing I saw in the long mirrors were their lips connected in a heated kiss.

I wanted to throw up. I ran to the restroom and sat on the ground in one of the cabins. I touched my cheeks with the back of my hands to check my temperature and realized I was crying. I couldn’t possibly be sad, could I? I stayed seated for what felt like hours, developing a plan to get revenge on Soojin. I was not going to let her go unscathed after what she had done.

The pain eventually subsided. Rage was all that was left in me. I was determined to make the bitch pay. I checked myself in the mirror, relieved to see there was no trace of me crying, and nodded to myself to give me courage. I came back to the dance room like nothing happened. Everybody stopped moving and watched me walk to my camera.

“Sorry, I had an emergency,” I told no one in particular, shooting an apologetic smile around the room. “Please, continue.”

I changed a few parameters on the camera and the room came back to life.

I was one of the first ones to leave the room. I stored my stuff in their respective places. Minho was waiting for me when I walked out of my studio.

“Y/N, I’m sorry—-It just happened—”

I scoffed. “Whatever.”

I'll do anything for you, boy, anything Yeah, I'll do anything, anything for you Yeah, I'll do crazy shit And I'll get away with it Boy, I'll do anything, anything for you

I raced to my car and waited there until Soojin entered her own car. I watched Minho go to her window and talk to her when she rolled it down. She nodded and smiled at him. Sickening. He went to his own car and I followed Soojin when she exited the parking lot. I stayed at a safe distance, but what if Minho knew what I had in mind and warned her?

I shook my head. It didn’t matter. She drove around fifteen minutes and parked in front of what looked like a family house. Was it her own place or did she come to her parents thinking I wouldn’t dare touch her there?

I smiled conspiratorially. None of them really knew me. I parked right behind her and stormed out of my car. I stopped at her window like Minho had done earlier and waited for her to roll it down. She stared at me with fear in her eyes and gulped.

I put on a fake smile and my sweetest voice. “Come on out, Soojin, don’t be scared.”

She slowly reached for the handle and opened the door.

“Look, I’m sor—”

I grabbed her by the neck and threw her on the asphalt. She grunted and rolled over. I pulled her hair up and ignored her faint struggle, whispering in her ear. “You really thought you could steal my boyfriend from me and get away with it?” I let out a nasty laugh.

She shuddered, tears welling up in her eyes. “You’re not together anymore,” she cried. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

“You’re too cute. I guess that’s your advantage.”

I pulled her hair a little higher and balled my other hand into a fist. I moved my arm back to gain momentum, but never got to use it. Minho shouted my name from his car, parked right behind mine. I let go of Soojin and watched him dash towards us.

“What’s happening?”

He kneeled next to her, checking her face and scratched arms. She cried, burying her face in his chest and wrapping her arms around his stomach. I huffed and folded my arms over my chest. The second she calmed down, Minho got up and faced me. He frowned.

“What did you do?” His tone was accusing. It angered me.

“Are you for real? How could you get over me that easily? Was I nothing to you?”

“Y/N,” he warned, pinching his nose bridge. Then he gave me a firm stare. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I never meant to. I just assumed you got over it the way I did.” His voice matched the look on his face.

Got over it? Oh, boy.

“I guess I loved you more than you ever did me.”

His surprised expression made no sense to me. He did not comment on it. Instead, he reached for Soojin’s hand and helped her up. “I’ll get you home,” he said softly.

He used to talk to me like that. Take care of me like that. My blood boiled but I just watched, feeling abandoned, as they walked away from me.

When he returned, a few minutes later, I was waiting, my back pressed against the driver’s side door of my car. “What was that about?” he inquired, stopping around three meters away from me, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’ll do anything for you, Minho. Anything. And I got angry at the way she snatched you from me.”

He stepped back, dropping his arms at his sides. “What do you mean, anything?”

“Literally anything.”

“But, Y/N, we broke up. You don’t have to. Besides, she didn’t snatch me, I fell for her.” My heart hurt. Did he really stop loving me that easily? “I’m sorry. Really, I am. I can’t undone our history, nor can I control my feelings.”

“You would undone our history if you could?” That was what hurt the most, I think. That, right there. He regretted being with me.

“No, but what you did today… I’m not sure I can forgive you. You scared Soojin, you scared me. If I knew you would be like this, I—”

“Don’t finish that sentence, please.”

Minho sighed. “I enjoyed being with you, Y/N, honestly. However, that was too much. I won’t ask you to quit your job, but can you please, leave Soojin and I alone? I feel like a dick asking you, especially since you’ll have to watch us a lot, and I also don’t want to quit this amazing company.”

“I’ll do it,” I breathed. A single tear ran down my face. “I’ll quit. I can’t stand by and watch you both all lovey-dovey. And I don’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

It was my fault. I planted the seed of desire in Minho’s head, and my jealousy nourished it. The plant grew and he fell in love with her. I should've known. He never explicitly told me he loved me.

Minho reached for me and for a second, I was tempted to just let him, but that would've been wrong. I wasn’t sure I could leave if he showed me affection. I turned around and hopped in my car.

“Have a good life,” were my last words to my beautiful ex boyfriend before I took off.

The next day, I gave my resignation letter to my boss, and apologized a ton for leaving so suddenly. I pretended to have an urgent family matter hundreds of kilometers away, and moved out during the week. I wanted to put as much distance between Minho and me as possible to help me forget about him. It wasn’t an easy feat. But I moved into a small apartment in another city, got a job in a dancing company named “Encore Dance” and resumed my life.

There, I met a man so pretty I could cry.

Hwang Hyunjin.

Have you seen this man?

thanks for reading! feedback is always appreciated :) masterlist

51 notes · View notes

auteurdelabre · 1 day

Text

VAMPIRE ROOMMATE - PART I: DRAINED - Max!Philips x f!reader

Words: 2.0k

Rating: M for future chapters

a/n: Your girl was a Dracula loving doofus in highschool alrite?! So enjoy this campy little mini-series I made starring everyone's favorite douchebag vampire, Max Philips. See if you can spot all the Dracula Easter eggs!

I thank @intheorangebedroom for getting me to finish the first chapter. Love you hon! 🧡

dividers by the impossibly talented @saradika-graphics

P A R T I : D R A I N E D

The Demeter is crowded, as it always is on a Thursday during happy hour. Drunken idiots bump into you, spilling beer onto your shoes and across the ancient pub floor but you don't even notice, you just make a beeline for the booth near the back where two young women sit, smiling at your approach.

"I cannot afford this fucking city."

You moan this loudly, throwing your purse into the booth your co-workers have snagged before slumping next to a bemused looking Lucy. She tilts back, curving her full mouth into a smirk as she watches your face scrunch.

"Nice to see you too."

"This city sucks the life from you," you go on, ignoring her amusement. "Drains you!"

Your two co-workers (and let's face it, only friends since you moved to this city for this job) give you gentle pats on the shoulder as you groan.

The three of you are the youngest staff at Seward Plastic Surgery. You'd started around the same time and banded together to face the stress of working at the office amongst high end clientele, hostile co-workers and a bustling schedule.

The three of you had all been running away from something. Mina: her oppressive religious parents back in Utah, Lucy: her obsessive ex fiance back in Sacramento and you-

Well, you'd rather not think about it right now.

"I take it the roommate search isn't going well?" Lucy asks, half distracted by her phone. You see she's swiping through some Tindr matches.

Being that she's a goddess with flowing red hair and the best body you've ever seen, she's won't have trouble finding a date. You've already clocked three guys in the nearby vicinity who can't keep their eyes off of her.

"This latest girl asked if it was cool if she brought her four ferrets with her. Four." You throw up your hands in disbelief. "And the one before that asked if it was cool if she did some filming in the apartment."

Mina tilts her head to the side. "What kind of filming?"

"For her Only Fans." You shoot them a glare when your friends giggle behind their hands.

"She said if I wanted to join in she'd split the profits with me."

At this Mina and Lucy break out into loud laughter, even managing to draw a small smirk from you before you feel that same familiar desperation clawing at you.

You fold your arms on the table, letting your head fall into the crook of your elbow.

"It's humiliating you guys," you mutter, "I can't believe I'm thirty and looking for a fucking roommate. And that there's no one normal in the entirety of New York!"

You make decent money, but New York is just... So expensive. And big and stressful. It's supposed to be the land of opportunity but all its afforded you is a shitty apartment that you can't furnish and roommates that never stick around.

"Hey, don't get like that," Mina says with a gentle hand over yours. "You'll find someone soon."

Mina is always gentle and kind and annoyingly optimistic. It's why she does the customer service stuff at the office, because no one can look at her big dark blue eyes and get angry.

"Hey, my favorite customers."

Mina and Lucy smile up at the handsome young man who approaches the table, his eyes on Mina lingering a moment longer than the rest.

"Hi Johnny," Lucy coos coquettishly. You don't miss how she leans forward to show off her considerable assets in her dress, but Johnny is oblivious.

"Hi Mina," he offers gently.

"Hi," Mina replies, a light blush to her cheeks. She gives a shy glance up at Johnny.

"We need alcohol," you moan from where your head rests in your arms on the table. "Lots of it!"

"Day going that well, huh?" Johnny laughs, sliding a few cardboard coasters over the glossy tabletop. "I'll get you the usual."

Johnny's been your server since the three of you started coming here about six months ago and it's obvious to you that he's besotted by Mina.

"She's having a hard time finding a roommate," Mina explains helpfully. Johnny raises a confused brow in your direction.

"What happened to Quinn?"

"Moved out in the middle of the day while I was at work and took the fucking TV," you say miserably, finally raising your head from the table. "And her last rent check bounced."

"Who the fuck takes checks anymore?" Lucy asks in quiet horror. She holds up her hands in surrender when you shoot her a dark look.

Johnny leaves and comes by with your drinks, and you eagerly drink yours down. There's music trivia this evening and the three of you do fairly well, but you're in too low spirits to enjoy or focus.

"You'll a new roommate," Lucy says over the pub's music, trying to raise your spirits.

"The best!" Mina agrees drunkenly. "I just know your luck is going to turn around!"

The rest of the night is passed in a tipsy blur before the three of you stumble to the subway hugging and pressing beer-flavored kisses to each other's cheeks.

You finally arrive back at the apartment around midnight, yawning so wide your jaw cracks. You're fumbling with your key when the stench of salami and cigarettes washes over you.

In anxious habit your hand flies to your neck, fingers playing absently with the locket that's always hanging there.

"Hello Mister Morris," you say, trying to hide the slur from your voice as you turn to face your landlord; a balding man of seventy who you're fairly certain hates you.

"It's the sixteenth," the man says, arms crossed tightly over his narrow chest. He wears a loose grey t-shirt stained with his dinner, or hell, maybe even his lunch too.

"I know."

"I've only got half the rent from you."

Your half because Quinn picked up and fucked off without paying her half, leaving you high and dry.

You want to mention to Mister Morris that he still hasn't fixed your leaking sink or the clicking noise that sounds out every time you use your microwave, but now doesn't feel like the right time.

"It's coming, I promise."

"You said that last week," he frowns and his thick blonde moustache twitches like a broom as he frowns.

"I know, it's just that Quinn -"

"I don't care what the excuse is," he cuts you off. "Get me my money by Monday or you're evicted."

Before you can say anything he's hobbling away back down the creaking steps of the high rise. You feel angry tears start at your lash line as you push yourself into the apartment.

You're about to crawl into bed when your phone beeps. You look blurrily at the glowing screen.

[Unknown number] Hey, I got your number from Johnny at the Dementor. Are you still looking for a roommate? I need somewhere soon and can pay you first and last month right away. I have great references. Lemme know - M

You let out a small huff of disbelief. Johnny gave your number to some strange, random girl from the pub?

Before your irritation can grow, Mister Morris' miserable face floats into your mind. Eviction. It makes you push past your hesitation and type quickly.

[You] Do you have pets?

[Unknown number] No.

[You] Do you make online content?

[Unknown number] Uh, no.

[You] Do you have a real job?

[Unknown number] Yes. I work at a marketing company in the city.

If you were sober you likely never would have replied to the initial message, much less given your address to a stranger. But as it is you're floaty from the booze and the threat of eviction compels you to reply.

[You] Can you come by the place tomorrow?

The response is almost immediate.

[Unknown Number] Sure. Name the time and place.

[You] I get off work at 5. 5:30 work?

[Unknown number] Any chance 8 works? I'm slammed at work tomorrow.

You'd picked 5:30 because there would still be a bit of daylight left in the encroaching fall weather. Eight pm meant that it would be full dark, not an ideal situation.

But nothing about your situation is ideal. If you don't get your entire rent check to Mister Morris you can kiss this apartment and your entire new life goodbye.

[You] Address is 18-97 Whitbey St. Bring your references please.

[Unknown Number] See you then.

[Unknown Number] Sweet dreams.

You smile a bit at that last message, amused at the woman's sense of humor. Maybe Mina was right.

Maybe your luck is turning around after all.

You don't know why but you assumed that M was a woman. So when you open your door the next evening to a man who looks straight out of the douche bag finance district you can't help but wrinkle your nose in displeasure.

He's taller than you with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. You take in his lightly tousled brown locks and notice wearing a navy suit, impeccably tailored. The shoes look expensive.

Why does this guy need a roommate?

He's turned away from you, scanning the hallway. You think he must be thinking this is a mistake. This apartment complex is simple and old. It doesn't seem like something this guy would be into.

He turns around and for some reason your eyes can't meet his. They stay stuck on his chest and drift slowly up to his mouth.

"Hi there," he says with a grin that feels practiced as he takes in your expression. "You're Johnny's friend, right?"

You don't know why but something about him has the hair on your body standing on end.

"Yep," you say feeling hesitant.

He smells good, like something familiar you can't place. He's clean shaven, his mouth full and pouty. He's handsome, you can't deny that. Not your kind of handsome - you're more drawn to the rugged and quietly confident.

This guy is smooth, polished and reminds you of all the asshole frat boys you went to school with. You don’t like the way his grin is slightly crooked, like he’s secretly mocking you without saying a word.

"I'm Max," the man says, hand stretching in your direction. "Max Phillips."

He gives another one of those practiced grins and you realize you're still standing behind the door, only your head and hand peeking out. You just stare at his outstretched fingers, the length of them, the width of his large palm.

Your fingers creep up your neckline to fiddle with the clasp of your locket, your heart hammering.

Max waits a beat before his hands dive back in his pockets. He doesn't seem offended at your lack of contact, if anything he seems amused.

"So," Max says stretching out the word, his full mouth curling into an exaggerated "o". "Are you gonna invite me in?"

His tone is playful and your gaze finally flicks to his eyes, surprised to find his gaze holding yours intensely.

His eyes are a warm, dark brown that appear rather sorrowful. You let yourself stare into them a moment, letting yourself linger.

Let me in.

You step back a fraction, pushing the door open with your fingertips so that he can enter.

"C'mon in."

He walks into the main living area like he owns the place. It sets you on edge and you follow him at a distance, like a terrified puppy.

You watch him glance around the small space, anxious that he'll turn right around. He's too fancy to be in this apartment with a pitiful view of the skyline and murky windows.

It's not a terrible place, just smaller than you'd want. A cramped kitchen, a communal TV space with your old couch, a bathroom with clawfoot tub and leaking showerhead. Nothing fancy.

Max walks around the space, taking in the exposed brick walls, the dripping faucet, the faded couch. His eyes are drawn to the small pot of yellow blooms sitting on the windowsill.

"Caltha Palustris," Max murmurs.

"Uh, yeah," you say stepping towards him in curiosity. "How did you know that? It's a specialized bloom from-"

"Romania," Max finishes for you, fingertips tracing along the petals a moment. "I did a bit of backpacking there."

"Oh." You nod. "I like taking care of plants. Reminds me of home."

Max waits for you to share more but when you don't he continues his walk over the parquet flooring, his shoes clicking over the wood. He stops before the wall over the un-usable fireplace.

"No TV?"

You can't tell him the real reason, that your last roommate ditched you midweek.

"Uh, I like to read," you lie.

"Mhm." Max smirks, obviously not believing you. His eyes bore into yours and you force them to the floor. It's strange, when you stare at him you feel sort of floaty.

He saunters towards the far door, pointing. "This your bedroom?"

"No, that would be yours if... You know," you offer awkwardly. Max nods, pulling it open and peeking inside.

It's a small room, technically a refurbished closet. Enough to fit in a bed and a desk.

If it wasn't New York no one would be in the market for it. As it is, with people desperate to live in the big city you have a line of people wanting to rent it. The only issue is none of them are normal.

"I know it's small," you say almost apologetically to his back. "And I know there's technically no window-"

"I don't need much room," Max says with a shrug, closing the door again with a snick. "And I need it dark to sleep."

You're gob smacked by this. You'd been expecting him to turn around and leave the second he saw the place.

"There's one other thing," you say, swallowing. "Uh, I'm not really allowed to have a roommate. This is technically a one bedroom and all... So if you see the landlord just tell him your my cousin or something. He doesn't really come around unless the rent check is late so odds are you'll never run into him. But, you know, just in case."

"Subterfuge," Max tuts with a wink that has your cheeks prickling with heat. "I like it."

He stands out so much in your humble apartment. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who would want to stay in a shoebox. You imagine him in more of a high rise with floor to ceiling windows and sleek countertops.

"I work nights," Max tells you as you drift out of focus. "So I'd be out of your hair for the most part except for the odd weekend."

"Oh," you say, a bit taken aback.

That actually sounds great, exactly what you were hoping for. It sounds too good to be true.

"And I can pay cash for first and last," he adds as if he can feel you softening to the idea. "Whenever you give the okay."

Most people were desperate for a place in New York, so desperate they didn't mind the shitty apartment with bad plumbing. But Max doesn't seem desperate, he seems like a man with lots of options.

"You seem hesitant," Max observes with that same unflappable charisma.

"It's just... Why do you need a roommate?" You blurt, totally at a loss. "You dress expensive, sounds like you have a good job. Why would you want to have a roommate in a shitty apartment in Brooklyn?"

You don't miss the amusement in Max's eyes. He lets them travel languidly along your body, lingering on your neck a fraction before darting back to your face.

"I have another apartment in the city," Max explains with a charming grin. "But it's under renovations for the next six months. I need something in the meantime and I need it quick. My job keeps me very busy and I really just want to settle down so I can get all my focus back on it."

Six months is a decent enough time. It's not a year like you'd prefer, but you're desperate right now.

"You'd need to sign a half a year lease," you tell him.

"Seems fair."

"And pay a damage deposit."

"Naturally."

You falter, licking your lips nervously. You don't miss how Max's eyes follow the damp trail along your lower lip.

"You still seem hesitant," Max says, hands back in his pockets. "May I ask why?"

"It's just... I've never had a male roommate before," you explain. "And..."

"You don't know if I'm a creep or not," Max finishes for you with a grin. "I get it."

You shoot him a relieved smile. "Yeah."

"You're worried I'm a potential serial killer," he chuckles, moving from foot to foot.

"Who knows, maybe I'm the serial killer," you offer with a crooked grin. "You don't know me after all."

"But I do know Johnny," Max argues toothlessly. "If he says you're good, I trust him."

This makes your insides grow warm.

"Well, how about I leave you my references and you go ahead and call them. If you're still uncomfortable after that, we can just forget about it," he offers with a shrug.

"Okay, yeah. That works."

"But I will say I really wanna get settled as soon as possible and I think this place would be a great fit. That is, as long as you don't murder me in my sleep."

You both chuckle politely and before he can overstay his welcome, Max hands you the paper with his references' names and contact information.

"I hope to hear from you soon."

He doesn't attempt to shake your hand again and then he's gone, sailing out of the apartment on his long legs, closing the door gently behind him.

It's late, but after a beat you call his references anyway. When you're satisfied with their positive responses you collapse onto your lumpy couch. You finger the yellow flowers next to you, mind strangely foggy.

After another moment of hesitation you pull out your phone and begin to type.

[You] Can you move in this weekend?

#max phillips #max philips x f!reader #vampire #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #pedro pascal fanfic

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