#just casually never aging throughout the show
i do not want the show writers to correct jaskier’s lack of aging during season 1 okay, i want them to either a) NEVER bring it up, just keep acting like it’s completely normal or b) have him be immortal. that’s it.
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high risk – high reward | 5
Squid Game | The Salesman x F!Reader | 18+
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Summary: As you try to get settled in before coming up with an escape plan, the Salesman makes sure you get familiar with the concept of your arrangement.
Warnings/Info: SMUT ahead, 18+! ♥ | dub-con; oral (male receiving); vaginal fingering; dom!Salesman; sub!virgin!Reader; cussing; exploitation; age gap; tw:dark content
Damn! This was fun to write. I hope y’all will enjoy reading it! Please let me know what you think. Cheers ♥
P.S.: I could’ve used a more fitting GIF at the end, but the guy in this one is Gong Yoo and, please, I need someone to tell me which movie or show this is from! For research purposes....
You follow the Salesman down the hallway until he stops at a door to his right and pushes it open at once.
“This is the guest bedroom. As you can see, it hasn’t been used much before”
You do see it as you peek inside, but you don’t dare to open your mouth to ask why; still too intimidated by the things he said and done before. Instead, you follow him inside cautiously and let your gaze wander. Again, this bedroom alone seems to be as big as the place you share with Ho-Sook. It smells like new furniture and dust, along with the biting scent of window cleaner.
You’ve only seen a large box-spring bed like this in a magazine maybe, but never even sat on one before. It probably wouldn’t fit in your room anyways; you think as you approach it. You will have to climb on top of it as the mattress reaches up to your hip. The sheets are navy blue and soft while the mattress has a comfortable toughness as you give it a testing squish. The dark brown dresser next to the bed nearly reaches the ceiling, and you know you wouldn’t be able to fill it up with the clothes you own if you wanted to.
“I don’t think there are any towels in this bathroom, so you just go ahead and strip while I get a few things for you”
You’re sure to suffer from a heart attack as soon as those words leave his mouth, so awfully casual at that. He looks at you with a nonchalant expression as he leans against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets, and he nods his chin towards the connecting door on the other side of the room.
“I’ll be back soon”, he says as he pushes himself off the doorframe and disappears down the hall.
You look back and forth between the empty doorframe and the adjacent bathroom before walking towards the closed door. Did he really say strip? Or is your mind starting to play games, too?
You grab the handle and notice that your hand is shaking. The door opens and you step forward into the smaller room. It takes a moment to find the light switch, but as soon as you flick it on you see the mirror straight ahead above the designer sink, and you’re caught off guard by your own appearance.
The dark circles under your eyes only remind you of the fatigue starting to overcome your exhausted body, and you hold onto the sink as you lean forward to further examine yourself in the mirror. Your hair is messy, ready for a throughout wash and your face looks alarmingly skinnier with your cheekbones accentuated like that. Perhaps it’s the strange lightning in the room, or you’re only now paying attention to yourself since who knows how long.
Your heart starts racing when the Salesman calls out to you, and your knees feel weak as you leave the bathroom to face him.
“Yes, sir”, you answer softly, and the title continues to leave a bitter taste of humiliation and embarrassment in your mouth.
He drops the fluffy grey towels on the bed, along with the basket of various toiletries while you eye up the packaged toothbrush with wanton desire. You don’t notice his scowl at first, you’re too occupied to see what he brought you, but your attention is back on him when he approaches you slowly.
“You’re still dressed”
You look down at yourself and shift on your feet uncomfortably before peering back up at him slowly.
His jaw tenses as he clenches his teeth with a deep sigh. “I wasn’t going to do anything to you if that’s what you thought. I was only trying to be helpful. You’re aware that I expect you to listen and obey when I tell you to do something, right? Or am I still not being clear enough?”
Your breathing comes shallow as you brace yourself for worse things to come. An agonizing moment passes, and the tension continues to thicken when he opens his mouth to speak.
“Put your arms up, Y/N, now”
You do as he says, yet again too slow for his liking, and he doesn’t hesitate to grab a hold of the hem of your heavy sweater and pulling it up over your head before tossing it to the floor haphazardly. The plain white shirt you’re wearing underneath follows quickly, and you’re left standing in your white sports bra.
When he goes to open the button of your jeans, you flinch away instinctively, but you don’t get to back away far enough as he hooks his fingers into the waistband.
“Ah ah ah, you didn’t listen when I told you to do it yourself, so we do it together now instead”
You swallow the lump in your throat as he pushes your jeans over your ass, down to your legs until you can step out of them. He crouches in front of you before lifting one leg by the back of your knee and pulling the sock off, then doing the same with the other. The fact that he is crouching in front of you only manages to make you more uncomfortable, so you keep your hands folded in front of your private parts. Your body is trembling uncontrollably at this point, but he doesn’t care.
You let out a shaky breath when he makes a move to stand though only to grab the back of your knee once more to lick his flat tongue up your thigh before biting your skin. You squeal and flinch away as he finally stands up, laughing sardonically.
“Why would you do that?”, you squeak, all flustered with one arm crossed over your chest while the other stays in front of your panties.
His tongue pokes out between his teeth as he grins at you, and you hate how boyish and smug he looks while doing it. He tries to be sneaky as he fixes the front of his dress pants but fails miserably and you notice the obvious bulge pressing against the fabric. Your skin flushes hot and you avert your eyes immediately.
He nears you and you back away until your back hits the large wooden dresser. His finger lifts your chin like he did before in the living room, and his free hand is braced next to your head on the dresser as he leans in.
“I believe you meant to say, ‘Why would you do that, sir?’, hm?” He clicks his tongue and licks his lips as his eyes flick to yours, parted slightly. “As for the why…I did it, because back in the car I realized that I enjoy hearing you scream, and moan, and whimper, kitten”
He leans his body into yours until you feel his erection poke into your groin. You turn your head away and squeeze your eyes shut in shame, but he uses it to his advantage and doesn’t hesitate to kiss and suck a hickey on your neck.
The sensation makes you shudder and whimper helplessly while you push your hands flat against his chest. You’re surprised when he stops and pulls back abruptly with a satisfied hum.
“Go take a shower and don’t forget to shave, I like it smooth. Come find me when you’re done”, he coos into your ear before backing away. His eyes roam over your half-naked again, and you’ve never seen a man look this lewdly at you. He finally turns on his heels to exit the room, leaving you torn between feeling anguish and an unknown craving which only furthers your self-loathing.
You take one of the larger towels and wrap the fluffy fabric tightly around your chest; you use a smaller one to dry your hair and dap away the blood from the cut on your left knee. Somehow you slipped while shaving in the shower, but you’ve never been good at that anyway. A minor cut is the least on the ongoing, excruciating list of your problems right now.
For a fleeting moment you even managed to feel slightly better, like you could get out of this mess eventually, but reality swiftly caught up to you, and crushed the little shred of hope before it could bloom into too much confidence.
A peek inside the dresser leaves you empty handed, but deep down you knew you wouldn’t find anything anyway. Now you stand at the edge of the fancy bed, in a bedroom that isn’t yours, clean, teeth brushed, and more than ready to drop dead with sleep.
Of course, you remember his last words before he left, and how could you not. Perhaps you will never forget them for the rest of your life, any of them.
‘Come find me when you’re done’
“Ugh…” Your shoulders drop and you take a few long, deep breaths to find the courage to open the door and walk down the hallway like this. There is a split-second where you think about locking the door and climbing out of the window, but that plan proofs to be too suicidal quickly. Judging by the look out the panorama window in the living room, the apartment must be on the highest level, and you’re too afraid of heights to even be near an open window.
What if you lock the door though? Would he break in and take you forcefully? Probably, and you’d more than likely end up more hurt afterwards, too. You exhale through your nose and bite your cheek nervously as you open the door eventually.
You can hear classical music playing softly as you step onto the hallway; the sound is coming from the living room, and with a heavy heart, you drag your bare feet towards it.
The Salesman is sitting on the couch, long legs spread languidly, unwinding with a glass of light brown liquor in one hand, and a smartphone in the other. You squint your eyes and realize it is yours. His attention shifts to you as soon as you approach him, and he takes a sip of the liquor before smiling at you with glee in his eyes.
He changed his attire from business to casual, with a plain black V-neck T-shirt and, charcoal grey designer sweatpants. You squirm under his gaze as you come to stand a foot away in front of him, and he puts the fancy glass on the side table next to him though he keeps scrolling through your phone absentmindedly.
“I spent my time alone to get familiar with your acquaintances, I hope that’s all right, but it seems like you don’t have many friends anyway. Is that correct?”
“Hm” He nods and the corner of his mouth twitches upwards. “Then tell me, who is Baekhyun? You seem to be close with him, more than any of your other contacts”
“He…we worked together, we get along well and we’re friends, nothing more, sir”, you answer through clenched teeth while you grab the towel around your chest tighter.
“Mhm”, he hums, nods again and puts the phone down next to the glass on the side table. “Have you ever sucked a cock before, Y/N? Perhaps Baekhyun’s?”
You scoff as you feel your cheeks burn up again, and you wonder if too much adrenaline in a day could be deadly. “N-no, sir, never”
He sucks his bottom lip through his teeth and shifts in his seat as he makes a ‘come-hither’ motion with his fingers. You obey reluctantly and he grabs your wrist to pull you closer as soon as you’re within arm’s reach. He tugs on the towel, but you hold on to it fiercely.
“Look at me, Y/N”, he demands softly, and you do as he says, not hiding your scowl. “this is going to be a part of our deal. If you can learn to satisfy me, and keep me good company, I promise I will take care of you and your problems in return”
He tugs on your wrist gently and you bite your cheek raw as you ponder.
“Just think about it, what else is there left for you to do?” He chuckles lowly while his free hand slips beneath the towel to tickle his fingertips up your thigh, and you let him. “I had a different opportunity in store when I approached you at the train station, but that one would have been much, much more deadly than this one right here”
He is right, there isn’t much left for you to do. Up to this point, you couldn’t keep a job for more than a month, you never finished your degree, you could be homeless right now if Ho-Sook has finally had enough and decided to kick you out –
The Salesman tilts his head with a disarming smile on his lips as you unwrap the towel wordlessly before dropping to your knees between his legs. He leans back, waiting for you to make the first move, and you rub your trembling hands up his thighs and position yourself in a more comfortable angle while you try to recall everything you’ve ever seen in the few porn movies you’ve dared to watch in the past.
“Don’t overthink it, there’s hardly anything you can do wrong. Just –“
You gaze up at him and he leans forward to pat your cheek gently. “mind your teeth, please”
Your face is burning, and your heart racing when he reaches into his pants and whips out his semi-hard erection. The sight makes your breath hitch and a delicate heat pool between your legs. His cock is long, and veiny, the head a deeper shade of skin than the rest of his shaft. You’re not surprised to find his dark pubes trimmed and kept just as neat as the rest of his appearance.
It takes some effort for you to spit into your palm before you reach out to grab his cock. He flinches and cups his hand over yours as he huffs.
“Gentle now, love”, he coos as he guides your hand with his. The sudden change of tone makes your skin flush and a shiver run down your spine, right down to the aching want between your legs.
The Salesman lets go off your hand as you lean in to lick your flat tongue over a thick vein up to his cockhead. The soft groan escaping his plush lips only spurs you on just as much as the faint taste of his watery precum in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the tip as you jerk the rest of his length. Your free hand digs into his thigh, but as the sudden wish to see him naked too creeps into your mind, you start to push the fabric of his shirt up his toned stomach by default.
He groans and chuckles as he understands your request, and he swiftly arches his back as he pulls his shirt over his head. You suck in a breath and moan softly as you part your lips to fully suck on his cock.
“You’re doing so good –“
You try to keep eye contact with him, but your sudden gag reflex catches you off guard and you pull back quickly, scared to go too deep again.
“Easy, love, go easy”, he says and huffs as he caresses his knuckles over your cheek, brushing away the tear from the corner of your eye. You lick your lips and take him back into your mouth eagerly. The flexing of his abs distracts you enough to take him further down your throat, and you feel him straining himself not to thrust his hips upwards.
Your lips are slick with your saliva and his juices, and you can feel the mixture spill from the corners of your mouth and drip down your chin. You moan around his cock as you watch his muscular chest heave as he groans and pants.
“Fuck”, he cusses lowly when his head lolls back and somehow the word sounds all filthier coming from a man like him. The throbbing in your pussy only gets worse as you shift and clench your thighs together, and the restraint not to slip a hand between your wet folds starts to crumble.
“Don’t stop now, be a good girl for me and swallow”
His hand starts to stroke and tug on your hair as you keep up the steady rhythm you found though your jaw is starting to hurt and strain, but you breathe through the pain and feel his legs quiver under your touch.
He grunts and cusses under his breath, and suddenly you feel his cock throb and warmth spill inside your mouth. You squeeze your eyes shut and breathe through your nose as you swallow his release slowly until nothing is left.
“Just like that, Y/N”, he purrs and shudders as you continue to suck on his sensitive length. “Come on, get up”
Your legs have fallen asleep and your knees hurt from crouching on the wooden floor, but the Salesman helps you stand after tugging his softened cock back into his pants. Your mind is in a haze and his eyes look just as glazed over by lust as he pulls you onto his lap. You don’t hesitate to straddle him, and it’s a strange feeling when you realize that you’ve succumbed to his deal, and given up your last ounce of pride.
His hands roam over your back and settle on your bottom before he gives your ass cheeks a rough squeeze. You whimper and squirm as the sensation adds to the yearning you feel between your legs.
“Congratulations, you’ve just managed to pay your share of rent for this month, love”, he purrs as he peers up at you.
The Salesman shoots you a lopsided grin as he reaches for your phone and shows you the screen, lit up by a call from Ho-Sook.
“Answer it, but keep it short, I assume she has been calling you for a while”, he tells you while his hands keep caressing and exploring your body.
You take the call and suck in a breath when he flicks his tongue over your hardened nipple suddenly.
“Y/N? Y/N! Where are you?”, the piercing voice of Ho-Sook fills your ears just as his hand delves between your legs to cup your pussy.
“Talk to her”, he murmurs with his face between your breasts.
“Yes, uh, hey”, you croak while his elegant fingers drag through your slick folds, spreading your slickness around your swollen clit before stroking it gently. “Ah, fuck –“, you huff and he scolds you with a silent glare before teasing your tight entrance with two fingers.
“Y/N? Are you all right? Where are you?”, Ho-Sook inquires worriedly, and you want to apologize to her for being a shitty friend and an even shittier roommate, but when the Salesman starts to pump his fingers inside your pussy while kissing the valley between your breasts, and you can barely remember what she just said.
“Ask her if she got the payment” His warm breath ghosts over your skin before he sucks your other nipple through his teeth.
“Mhm, did – did you get my – my, uh, payment for the rent?”, you stutter and brace your free hand on his broad shoulder as you grind your hips into his touch.
“Yes! Oh my god, thank you! How did you get the money? I thought –“
“Tell her you’re with a friend, you’re busy, and you’ll call her again tomorrow”
You take a deep breath and try to keep your composure as he continues to fingerfuck you all while sucking lovebites on your skin. “Listen, Ho-Sook, ah –“
You dig your nails into his bare shoulder when he flicks his slick fingers over your clit repeatedly, but he only smirks at you with a cocksure expression.
“I’m with a friend and – mh – I’m kind of busy, there might be a new job opportunity for me and, uh, I – I’ll call you tomorrow. Bye!”
You toss the phone to the side after hanging up, and the Salesman wastes no time to grab you by the back of your neck and pull you in to crush your lips together in a fervent kiss.
Tags: @goingbananasoverpotassium @bbhimbf @bamposworld @emxhs @highwayhells @mines-of-voldemoria @mochacake2016 @isa-the-butler-simp @pushingdaisy @god-like-eyebrows @snixx2088 @xzydra11 @cherricola66 @iwasei @exo-wayv @prpbablyme @aesteticthotiere @heartsarecompatible @misschubswrites @pilloclock
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dilfrry is now a dad of two <3 enjoy, i may or may not have cried writing this!
as always, please reblog / leave feedback 🧡
word count: 5k
warnings: language, details of birth
California dawn brings serenity to the house.
Golden rays will soon filter in through the curtains and cast geometric shapes on the hardwood floors. The trees will start to sway from the ocean breeze and send earthy scents of pine and cedar into the kitchen. Toys scattered on the living room carpet from the night before will be left alone to sit and wallow until their owner sleepily waddles from her bedroom with a yawn and an empty stomach.
The sun is taking her time rising, leisurely painting the sky with wispy pink brushstrokes across the powder blue canvas. Seagulls croon as they fly parallel to the hazy horizon, gracefully dipping down in the water to catch their first meal of the day. Waves crash against the vacant shore with a certain persistence, as if to announce that morning has arrived once again.
A spoon clinks against the edge of a mug, the sound echoing throughout the tranquil kitchen as the chickadees sing their song outside the window.
Yet the current calmness of your surroundings doesn't quite match how you feel on the inside.
Being awake for the past hour, hunched over the island as you rock back and forth and breathe through painful cramping, isn't how you would have liked to kick off your morning.
Harry is weaving around the kitchen making homemade coffee for himself since there's a high chance that it's going to be a long, tiresome day ahead of you both. He's been up with you since you started having contractions, and you tried to convince him to keep sleeping, but there was no way to persuade him since he's naturally an early riser. Also because you know he would never let you handle the discomfort all alone.
Your daughter is still fast asleep in her room down the hall, completely oblivious to how soon she'll become a big sister. You're not looking to traumatize her at a young age, so your mom is on her way to pick her up for the day in case you happen to give birth.
You've decided on a water birth this time around. Being in the hospital for the birth of your daughter was tolerable, but the atmosphere gave you tremendous anxiety. All the nurses hovering over you, the constant beeping of the machines, the dreary and stale room — it all felt suffocating. You're positive you'll feel more at ease in the comfort of your own home with only you, Harry, and the midwife to witness you in your most vulnerable state.
As the pain lessens in your abdomen, you straighten your posture and begin to take some laps around the living room. There's not much you can do except hang tight and see if anything progresses. The contractions haven't gotten to the point of unbearable, but they still beg the question of whether or not you'll be having a baby today.
It's a waiting game, to say the least.
Harry is eerily quiet and relaxed, but you suppose it's because this isn't his first rodeo. It's a little humorous to see the difference in his composure compared to the first time you went into labor. He had clammy and shaky hands, he was a stuttering mess, and he also forgot to bring his driver's license when he took you to the hospital.
Now, it's like he's never been more prepared for anything in his life. He could just be hiding his nerves really well, but otherwise, he's extremely put together as he whistles the "We Just Got a Letter" song from Blue's Clues that always gets stuck in his head because your daughter watches the show during breakfast every day.
He's already dressed for the birth that might not even happen today. He wears his green swim shorts for when he'll get in the birthing pool with you and a faded white graphic tee that looks like it's been through the ringer. His favorite blue baseball cap is on his head, covering his messy hair that curls upwards underneath.
He looks casually gorgeous in the morning light.
After your tenth lap around the living room, you wander back to the kitchen and stand next to him as he puts two pieces of bread in the toaster. He looks down at you and smiles.
"Hi," he speaks, leaning his side against the counter. "Is the contraction over with?"
"For now," you flatly respond. "I'm sure there'll be plenty more."
He jerks his chin towards the sink. "Want you to drink some water."
"I'm not thirsty."
"Please just drink a glass for me, baby," he says as he moves to grab something from the refrigerator. "Let's not have a repeat of last time."
You roll your eyes and grab a cup from the drying rack. You may or may not have thrown up from dehydration at the hospital last time.
As you sip your water, you watch Harry silently spread grape jelly on his toast. He's been too quiet this morning. Entirely cool, calm, and collected. You miss his delirious morning humor.
"You're kind of scaring me," you deadpan.
He freezes with the butter knife in his hand. "Didn't know your husband making toast is a fear of yours."
There it is.
"No, not that." You wipe off some jelly that got on his thumb. "It's just... you're way too relaxed right now."
He sets the toast on his plate and turns to you with furrowed brows. "Should I be freaking out?"
"Well, I might give birth soon," you explain as your heart rate increases at the thought. "Doesn't that, I don't know, make you nervous?"
His eyes instantly soften. "Of course I'm bloody nervous, love," he says with a gentle squeeze to your shoulders. "I'm sure I'll be a mess once you're actually in full-on labor. I'm just enjoying the morning with you while you're still pregnant."
You let out a shaky exhale. You can feel your mind spiral as everything becomes more real the longer you think and talk about how you'll be a family of four in the matter of hours or days.
"Okay," you whisper unconvincingly. "That makes sense."
You can tell Harry doesn't buy it because he observes you for a few seconds before taking your fidgeting hand in his. "What's going on?"
It's like he can sense your uneasiness.
You swallow down the lump in your throat. "I'm freaking out," you weakly admit with a wavering voice.
His face almost crumbles as your eyes gloss over with a sheen of tears. "Let's walk down to the shore for a bit," he suggests with a kiss to your forehead. "Just you and me before it gets crazy in here."
You sniffle. "What if I can't make it back to the house?"
"Then I'll carry you," he assures.
"Good luck with that," you mutter under your breath before grabbing your phone from the island. "Let's go while I have a break from contractions."
He nods and takes his plate of toast and the baby monitor from the countertop in case your daughter gets up, then leads the way out the patio door.
On the short journey down, your heart blooms when you catch him smiling to himself as he walks, tattooed arms swinging with a water bottle for you in his left hand. The fresh air has rapidly lifted both of your moods and you're thankful for it.
It's too endearing not to keep as a permanent memory, so you open the camera on your phone and press record. "What are you grinning about over there?" you ask.
Harry just looks up and gives a big, open-mouthed smile to the camera. You can feel the excitement exuding from him. He's been waiting so long for another baby to love and now it's slowly but surely becoming reality.
You laugh and stop the video. "What's got you so happy?"
He shrugs, still smiling. "Just can't believe it's happening, y'know? It just hit me right now."
You both reach the sand and sit a little ways away from the water in case you have to promptly head back to the house. Harry places himself behind you, a position that is supposed to help when a contraction comes. You can hold onto his legs for leverage and he can massage wherever you're hurting.
"I can't believe it either," you reply with a shake of your head.
He takes a bite of toast. "Talk to me. How are you feeling? Emotionally, I mean."
Talk to me. A three word sentence he's been saying to you for years. Whenever you would bottle up your thoughts, whether they were ones of anger, sorrow, or happiness, he'd always want to know how you were feeling. That's never changed.
"I'm not as nervous as last time," you begin, closing your eyes when he starts to braid your hair. "I feel more prepared since I know what to expect, but it's still terrifying what my body is going to go through."
He hums an acknowledgment. "That's completely valid, yeah? No one expects you to be one hundred percent confident and prepared when pushing an entire baby out, no matter how many times you've done it before. Just know I'm eternally grateful that you've grown two babies for us... you're fuckin' superwoman."
"Thank you. I just feel like—"
A gasp suddenly leaves your mouth and your hand shoots to your side as another contraction hits.
"Okay, okay," Harry soothes, grabbing your hand so you can squeeze his. "It's okay, breathe with me."
You inhale and exhale through the internal pain, the tight cramping making you lean back against his firm chest. He quickly unlocks his phone to set the timer.
"Harry, it hurts," you cry out as your other hand grips his ankle. "Ow, ow, ow."
"I've got you, just push through it." He lifts your shirt up to spread a warm hand on your swollen bump that's dropped within the past couple of days. "Focus on my breathing, alright? And relax your shoulders, they're too tense."
You breathe in and out with him as he starts to massage your lower back. Your face is getting hot and your throat is becoming dry, but the only thing you can fully pinpoint is the penetrating pain.
"Tell me something," you pant out. "Please distract me."
Harry kisses your temple. "You look really pretty."
"Shut up," you mumble with a laugh that quickly turns into a groan of discomfort.
"I'm serious. I love how you look in the morning when the sunrise hits your face, like right now. It makes you glow even more than usual. The way it brightens your eyes that remind me so much of our daughter." He turns your face so you're looking at him. "I see you in her all the time."
You give a weak smile and rest your head in the dip between his neck and shoulder. "Yeah, but she has your bunny teeth."
His comforting, deep laugh vibrates against your back. "Mm, you'd be the one to notice that."
You just tiredly nod as the contraction subsides. You take a good guess that you're not close to labor yet because of how far apart and mild they've been so far. The midwife is only five minutes away, so there's no hurry for her to come and check on you.
"Okay, I think that one's done." You carefully sit up and release his hand. "How long was it?"
Harry checks his phone. "Forty-seven seconds."
"That's short," you think out loud. "They've been irregular, so I think they might just be Braxton Hicks."
He dramatically falls back on the sand and spreads his arms out. "So no baby yet?"
You snort and cuddle up next to him. "Soon. You have to be patient."
He's silent for a while before asking, "Isn't sex supposed to induce labor?"
You scoff and swat his chest. "I swear you asked me that last time."
"Oh, I definitely did. You rejected me and then literally didn't go into labor until two days later, remember that? Should've just listened to me, babe."
"I don't think it would be enjoyable for either of us if we tried," you admit. "I couldn't even walk down here without feeling like passing out."
Harry draws patterns on your arm with his pointer finger. "I know, I'm joking. We don't have to be anywhere or do anything right now. Let's stay out here for a little bit, hm?"
"Sounds like a plan," you mumble into his shoulder.
The world around you drowns out like the shells under the waves as you focus on the sound of his heartbeat. The rhythmic thumping of your favorite part of him almost lulls you to sleep, his hand gently stroking through your hair as time passes with each movement of the sun.
Your nerves wash away with each ocean tide, and you know everything will be alright.
The tub is ready.
You are not.
Harry is already sat in the lukewarm water of the circular birthing pool, shirtless and looking like he's ready to deliver the baby himself.
You've changed into your swimsuit and are now vaguely listening to what the midwife is telling you as you lean against the wall and suffer through another contraction, a strong one that's an indication that you're going to need to push soon. Your water has already broke and you're not quite sure why you're waiting until the very last second to get into the tub, but nothing in your mind is making sense because of the overwhelming pain.
The bedroom seems too small, the lights are too bright, the way Harry's looking at you is making you nervous, and your body feels too weak even though it's about to go through the strongest thing imaginable.
"Sweetheart, we need you in the tub so I can check your dilation," the midwife gently tells you, snapping you out of your overthinking.
"I- I can't," you respond helplessly. "I don't think I can do this, I don't wanna do this."
You're starting to regret not just sucking it up and going to the hospital so they can inject you with pain medication.
"I am going to do everything I can to give you a safe and smooth birth," she assures with a hand to your shoulder. "Your husband's waiting for you. He's going to be your support system the entire time, okay? Do you trust him to do that?"
You frantically nod your head. You've never trusted anyone more.
"The water will help with the pain, too," she continues with a kind smile. "It'll relax your muscles and it'll feel so good, alright? Can you get in the tub for me? Harry will help you."
You look at him, seeing his slightly shaky hands beckon you to come closer. You swallow and take a deep breath before slowly making your way towards him. There's equipment scattering the floor and the bed next to you — bleach, sheets, a tarp for the mess, towels, and a cup of ice for you to chew.
Harry helps you in the birthing tub, positioning you so your back is against his bare chest. You can feel his heartbeat fastly pounding once you're situated.
"I can't do this," you repeat as you slide your swimsuit bottoms off.
"Yes you can," Harry says as he massages your pelvis. "It'll be so worth it. We'll have a little baby boy or girl to hold tonight."
You fidget with his wedding band. "But I'm scared, Harry. What if something goes wrong?"
"Hey, hey, hey," he softly scolds. "Please don't think like that. Remember last time? What did I tell you to do to distract yourself?"
"To count your tattoos."
"That's right. I've gotten quite a few more since the last time we were in this situation, so get to counting. Distract your mind from the pain. I'm not going anywhere."
You begin counting, starting with your name tattooed on his right thigh that's bent in the water. You then grab his left arm and count all the little ones near his hand. The chrysanthemum on the inside of his wrist that represents your daughter's birth flower, along with her date of birth written in cursive. The outline of a wave that represents his home with you in California, the place you built your life together. They all mean something dear to his heart.
The midwife brings you out from your trance when she leans over the pool to check your dilation as Harry peppers comforting kisses to the back of your head. "Alright, you're about eight centimeters," she tells you after a few seconds.
"I feel like I need to push," you say timidly. "I feel the baby really low."
"We need to wait until you're ten centimeters," she replies. "If you can just hold out a little longer, it'll be much easier to push, okay?"
You nod and let out a long groan when the contraction moves from your lower back to your front.
"Do you want your ice, babe?" Harry asks you.
"Yes, please," you exhale.
He reaches behind him and grabs your cup filled with chipped ice. You begin chewing on a piece to cool your body temperature down and force your brain to focus on something else.
Several minutes pass with Harry whispering loving encouragements in your ear as the midwife talks you through what's about to happen. Everything is going in one ear and out the other, but you know that the moment is almost here. There's no stopping now.
"Still feel like you need to push, honey?" the midwife questions.
"Yeah," you say breathlessly. "Am I ten centimeters yet?"
"Just about," she explains with a smile. "I'm going to have you start pushing now, alright?"
Your eyes widen as you turn your head to look at Harry. He messily captures your lips with his, then moves them to your ear. "I'm right behind you," he tells you. "Whatever you need, just let me know, okay? If you need me to get out, if you need to scream at me... anything at all."
You nod and look forward when the midwife parts your legs and encourages you to push.
The first push is the most agonizing. Your head is thrown back on Harry's shoulder, gritting your teeth as you contract what feels like every muscle in your body. The midwife counts to ten, the seconds dragging on like minutes. Your face is scrunched up tight and your legs are uncomfortably tense in the water. Harry soothingly counts in your ear, taking your left hand in is.
Breathe out for three.
The second push feels like you're on fire, and not in a good way. The aching, cramping, and stinging pain shooting all over your body is borderline unbearable. You can feel it externally, internally, and everywhere in between. You let a cry leave your throat as the pain hits your lower abdomen in full force. Harry kisses your ring finger and sets your hand on his heart.
Breathe out for three.
The third push gets you the farthest. Your ringing ears distantly hear something along the lines of I can see the head, and you feel a sharp breath from Harry hit your neck as well as a kiss behind you ear. When the midwife gets to the number two, she reaches down to pull the head out. The burning sensation is still present, but the hardest part is out of the way.
Breathe out for three.
The final push is when you give every last ounce of energy you have left, squeezing both of Harry's hands so tightly that you're afraid you might break them. You're told to give your strongest and longest push, your entire body tense as you stop your breathing to make this push the last one. Harry chants motivational words from behind you -- they're almost here, you're doing so good, I love you.
Then all at once, there's release.
You quickly pull the baby up from under the water and cradle them to your heaving chest.
"It's a girl!" the midwife announces as she wipes and rubs her down with a blanket.
The tears immediately fall.
You hear Harry let out a soft sob as he buries his face in your neck. With his forehead pressed to your skin, he sniffles with trembling lips while the sound of your baby girl's cries fill the room.
"Would dad like to cut the cord?" the midwife asks over the commotion.
Harry nods and palms his tear-filled eyes. She passes the tiny scissors over to him and stretches the umbilical cord, showing him where to snip. He carefully moves out from behind you and blows out a sharp breath as he moves the scissors, but he drops them in the tub because of his shaky hands.
"Shit, sorry," he rasps with a wet laugh.
He picks them up and tries again, this time successfully cutting the cord. The midwife cheers and begins setting stuff up for the after-birth process. You cradle the back of your baby’s head and cry with unspeakable happiness.
"Hold her," you insist Harry now that she's detached.
He reaches his hands out and you carefully pass her squirming body over to him. He looks almost lost and in a trance for a second, but when her cries die down immediately once her skin meets his, he looks at you with the most breathtaking smile.
She clings to him like a lifeline, her cheek smushed against his bare chest and her tiny hands spread on his collarbones.
"Look," he whispers to you with watery eyes. "Look at her."
"I know," you choke out. "She loves you already."
His gaze is now focused on you with his pink nose, chapped lips, and an expression filled with so many emotions. You think he's never looked more beautiful.
"Thank you," he mouths to you.
Two simple words with a heavy amount of sincerity. You know what they mean — thank you for letting me be a father, thank you for dealing with all the mental and physical changes.
Thank you for her.
You smile and blink back more tears. "All in a days work."
Harry shakes his head as his eyes dance over your face. "Strongest person I know. I've never seen anything more incredible than you as a mum."
You lean over and kiss his jawbone. "Thank you for helping me through it."
"I always will," he responds while stroking your baby girl's back with his large hands that almost take up her entire body.
"Are you insinuating that we're going to have more babies?"
"You know I'd have a million with you," he drawls. "You're fuckin' perfect."
You lazily slap his arm. "Don't swear."
He leans in until his forehead touches yours. "Mm, gimme a kiss."
You scrunch your nose against his. "Your lips are dry."
He licks them, and you meet his mouth. He hums and smiles into the kiss, pulling away from you with a glint in his green eyes.
"I love you so much," he murmurs, then looks down at his daughter. "Both of you. My heart beats for my girls."
You peck the corner of his mouth. "I love you."
A tiny hand suddenly hits his mouth in between your two faces. Harry sputters a laugh and grabs it, kissing it over and over until she lets out a whine. He laughs in disbelief and hikes her up so he can smell her head, the baby scent being both of your favorite parts of having a newborn.
"Already a daddy's girl," you tiredly slur as the exhaustion finally catches up to you.
He puckers endless kisses on her head. "Think I'll keep you forever, angel," he says to her. "Is that okay? Hm? Gonna be my snugglebug when I need it the most?"
Her eyes remain closed, but her lips smack as she lets out a silent cry and kicks her legs. You look at Harry to see him absolutely mesmerized with her. Every small movement she makes, every change in facial expression, every noise that comes from her mouth — he's watching it all with soft eyes and a permanent smile.
No other man would you want as your husband.
No other man would you want to be the dad to your babies.
It's been a little over hour since you gave birth, and since then you've been moved to the bed after being cleaned up. You've just finished breastfeeding and now lay with her in your arms as you try to fall asleep next to Harry. He's still awake making calls to his family to tell them the news, and each time he does, he gets emotional all over again when the person on the other line gasps or screams with joy.
He's wearing a hoodie and sweatpants now, part of his hair held back with one of your daughter's tiny pink claw clips. You're both exhausted, but have never been more blissfully content as she sleeps, her small body covered in a white swaddle and a yellow baby beanie snug on her head.
The windows are open, letting the coastal breeze waft in and cool the dull ache circulating your body. The midwife had been kind enough bring you snacks, leaving ice water, a plate of crackers, and a small bowl of strawberry yogurt for you on the nightstand. There was an instance where Harry asked for a spoonful of your yogurt, and when you fed him it, some of it dropped on the baby's cheek. You both broke into silent laughter until she got fussy from your movements.
Or maybe it was from the cold dollop of yogurt on her sensitive skin.
Now, you drift off beside him and feel the soft breaths of your baby girl on your chest as the linen curtains blow in time with the swelling waves meeting the shore.
"You awake?" Harry quietly asks after he ends another call.
"Barely," you whisper into his sleeve that smells like heaven.
He kisses your temple and inhales deeply. "Just got off the phone with my boss. He says congratulations and to name her after him."
You hum a laugh that's laced with drowsiness. "I don't think she'd appreciate being named Dave."
"Touché. That was the last call I needed to make, by the way." He scoots down the bed and gently nuzzles his head into your side. "Get some rest, I'll be quiet now."
"I don't want to miss anything," you rasp, even though your eyes have been involuntarily closing for the past ten minutes.
He lightly scratches up and down your arm. "She's sleeping, my love."
"I know, but what if she does something cute?"
"Then I'll wake you up if that's what you want."
Your eyes droop once again with overpowering fatigue. "Promise?"
"I promise." He seals it with a tender kiss to your shoulder. "But you need—"
A knock on the bedroom door interrupts him and makes both of your heads snap towards the sound.
The metal knob joggles for a few seconds before the door slowly opens with a creak to reveal your daughter standing there holding a blanket with her thumb tucked in her mouth. You assume your mom must have just arrived and is letting her have some alone time with you both.
"Hi lovebug," Harry greets softly. "C'mere, we've got a surprise for you."
She cautiously shuffles over to the edge of the bed and inspects the sleeping bundle in your arms.
"Did you have fun with grandma today?" you ask her.
She distractedly nods, eyes still glued to the baby. Harry smiles and picks her up to set her in his lap.
"That's your baby sister in mumma's arms," he explains to her. "You're officially a big sister now."
She looks up at him. "Where?"
He lets out a breathy chuckle and shifts her so she's closer to the baby. "Right there, sweetheart. She's sleeping, so you have to be quiet."
"Oh," she whispers. You and Harry both exchange melting looks at her cuteness.
You take her hand and bring it to the baby's head. "Isn't she pretty?"
"Yeah." Her voice is still a whisper as she plays with the baby's fists. "So little."
"She is," Harry scratchily rasps with a sniffle. "You were once that little... fit so perfectly in my arms, you have no idea."
You kiss her rosy, cherubic cheek. "Do you want to hold her?"
She looks to Harry as if to ask for permission, and he nods his head in encouragement. He positions her in between you two, and you maneuver the baby into her arms while making sure her head is supported.
The sight is something out of a dream. How attentive she is with her new baby sister, staring at her like she's a delicate flower. Inspecting her closely like some beautiful specimen, gently poking her nose and puckered lips. She keeps looking up at you and Harry when she wiggles or makes a noise, a look of pure innocence and curiosity that brings more heartfelt tears to your eyes.
You eventually peel your eyes away from her and find Harry already gazing at you. A tear falls from his bottom eyelashes as he rolls his quivering lips in, nostrils flaring from more emotions hitting him. Reaching over, you thumb away the teardrop and focus outside the bay window.
The sun has dived below the darkening horizon, allowing the stars to faintly dot the sky. Cicadas buzz in nearby bushes and the night tides of the ocean collide with the sand that will soon be illuminated by the moon. It's quiet in the bedroom, nothing but the sound of soft breathing and the occasional hiccup from the baby. Your family of three is now four, and you've never felt more loved.
Everything around you is serene, just like it was during sunrise before she came into the world.
California dusk has brought you an angel.
1K notes · View notes
almost. (m) jjk.
not yet, almost, right now
pairing. jungkook x reader
genre. fluff, baby angst, smut
word count. 6.4k
warnings. two idiots!!, pining, masturbation (m. and f.), use of vibrator, accidental voyeurism?, more feelings come to light!!
summary. jungkook tries to be the best wingman he could be in your new venture after your breakup. he could do it, right?
note. part two of not yet, some more feelings are exposed, please don’t hate oc she is but a pendeja that doesn’t see the obvious feelings jungkook has but she has good intentions i promise<3 there will most likely be a final part,,if you guys are into it lmao okie bye
The cool summer breeze flows around you as you’re sitting under the shade, eyes focused on the chaos of runny yolk and hashbrowns that is your breakfast. Jungkook on the other hand, is focused on you. His signature yellow shades block out the sun reflecting from passing cars, concealing his eyes just enough for you to not see him blatantly staring at you while you stuff your face.
The charmed smile he has falters slightly when you look directly at him, hashbrown lingering by your lip as you repeat his name. “Sorry, what?”
Your brows come together as you smile at his zoned out state, something you had grown fond of in the years of knowing him, always enjoying the small dazed look that graced his face whenever he was lost in his thoughts. His lips push out slightly in question, curious eyes wondering just what you could have been asking him.
“I was saying that I think I’m giving up on crushes and love.” You say it so easily, mind made up as you grin at him before continuing to shovel hashbrowns into your mouth, only pausing to take a sip of your iced coffee.
Jungkook tries his best to seem unaffected, nodding along in interest as he takes a steady bite of his own food. “Really?”
“Yeah,” you sigh, taking a look around at the people surrounding you: friends having breakfast together and snapping photos, couples feeding each other food with smiles on their faces, a lone man with his dog perched on the seat across from his while he worked on his computer. You briefly wonder if all of them, even the dog, have better luck with love than you do.
“I think I’m cursed,” you continue. “All of my exes have been assholes, and I’ve always been too blind to see it until it’s over and I’m left crying over Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams.”
“Maybe you’re just looking for love in the wrong places,” Jungkook shrugs, internally screaming because he’s who you should be looking at if you wanted love.
Not to toot his own horn, but Jungkook liked to think he was a good guy, a great boyfriend even. His previous track record of relationships could attest to that, all of them ending on mutual terms, still friendly and civil with each other. He’s almost certain if there was a Yelp page for him it would be at least 4.5 stars with comments raving about how great he is, even little anecdotal touches about how he always gave away his hoodies or offered to cook breakfast.
He was a god damn catch, why couldn’t you see that?
“Maybe prince charming is a lot closer than you think,” he grumbles out, stabbing his omelette with a little more force than necessary, fork clanking against the plate. And when you gasp in realization he freezes, slowly looking back up at you and seeing the way your eyes widen.
“Wait, maybe you’re right!” Your hand shoots across the table, gripping onto his forearm and it sends a shock throughout him, skin tingling at your touch. “You know that coffee shop below our building? That cute barista always puts a heart next to my name. Do you think I should ask for his number?”
Jungkook blinks once, slowly twirls his fork in his hand and blinks again before staring up at the sky, mentally asking why he couldn’t just go out and say it. “Hm, I don’t think you should.“
With a defeated sigh you retract your hand, slumping back into your seat and grabbing your iced coffee once more, stirring the straw and ice around as you nod. “True. What if he feels obligated to give it to me just because he doesn’t want to get fired in case I go all Karen on his ass.”
That wasn’t why Jungkook had said not to, but sure, that works too, so he hums along.
“I bet he draws hearts on all the other girls cups too.” You huff, playfully wiping a tear under your eye with a smile.
“You know what I—“
You both freeze mid sentence, Jungkook’s cheeks tinted a light pink as he stutters on his words, wide eyes staring at you as if he had caught himself before you cut him off. But as you’re about to tell him to go on, he waves you off and urges you to speak first.
“I was just gonna say that maybe I should go through that wild phase people usually go through after breakups.”
He sets his silverware down on the plate and sips his water, giving you an odd look. “Wild phase? Like you wanna dye your hair red and get bangs?”
“No,” you cackle, ruffling a hand through your own hair as you picture yourself with that combination. “I should just go out and hook up with people. I feel like I’ve either been in a relationship or entirely single, so it could be fun right?”
“Uh, maybe...” he trails off, rolling his lips together in thought, not exactly fond of hearing you say that when he had felt the confession about to roll off his tongue. He takes a slow breath, trying to see this from a neutral point, the point of a supportive friend wanting to help you get over a breakup.
“How do you go about it?”
“Me?” he chokes, pointing at his chest as if there was magically some other person you could be addressing.
“Yes, you. Need I remind you, we share a wall between our beds.” You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face shows that you’re speaking of this lightly, not entirely annoyed by the fact that you had heard Jungkook during his own fair share of hook ups.
He’s not ashamed of it, but considering he never really brought up being able to hear you, he thought you’d pretend to never hear him. It wasn’t too often that he had a girl over, the number of hookups only increasing after you got with Hajoon and loosely cut ties with Jungkook. But from what you had heard—and seen thanks to your nosey self looking through peep holes once they left—it was very rarely the same girl.
So to you, Jungkook was a pro at the art of hookups.
“Right, sorry,” he grimaces, a sheepish smile on his lips as he wonders just how many times his activities kept you up at night.
“It’s fine, consider us even.” A teasing laugh follows your statement, enjoying the flustered look on his face, how his cheeks get even darker in embarrassment. Jungkook was used to the two of you talking like this, neither of you having a filter especially when it came to sexual aspects, but he hadn’t had a conversation like this since before you got with Hajoon. It would take some getting used to again.
“So, give me the tips. Where do you find people?”
Jungkook leans back into his chair, arms stretching out on either side of him, short sleeves of his black tee bunching up and revealing more of his tattoos and the rippling of his muscles. With a small laugh he rakes his hand through his fluffy hair, giving you a small smile. “Honestly? Anywhere. I’ve gotten girl’s numbers at the gym and at coffee shops, but bars are the best bet for something quick.”
“Ugh, fuck you and your pretty privilege.”
“What?” he guffaws, smiling wide and showing you his adorable smile as he laughs loudly, not caring about the attention he draws to your table. He doesn’t even realize how the table full of girls is now trying to discreetly stare at him, because his eyes are on you. You see it though, and it further proves your point. “What the hell is pretty privilege?”
Your wild hands gesture towards him, a look of disbelief on your face as you do so. “You! Of course girls line up to hand you their number, have you seen yourself? Pretty privilege,” you jab your fork at him in time with your final words, a smirk on your glossy lips.
Jungkook feels his confidence grow at your casual compliment, tongue prodding at his cheek as he stares down at his food, trying not to smile too hard. You thought he was pretty, that was a win in his book.
“C’mon,” he teases, foot gently nudging your leg underneath the table. “You could totally score someone's number. Plus there's always apps if you just wanna test the water.”
You give your plate a contemplated stare, “Sure, how hard could it be?”
Admittedly, the answer to that question was: not hard at all. You had met all your previous boyfriends in person, through mutual friends or shared classes back in college, never once dipping your toe into the world of Tinder or Bumble. Who knew all it would take was a couple of selfies and the strategic body shot to have boys circling around you like some new-age, slightly filthier version of rapunzel.
Jungkook knew though, not at all shocked by how quickly you get a match the following day when he’s at your place. His eyes are focused on the screen in front of him, helping you beat a level in your favorite game that you had been stuck on. But the second you gasp as if you’ve won the lottery, he pauses the game entirely and gives you an odd look.
His answer comes in the form of your phone thrusted in his direction, lit up screen displaying your profile picture and the one of the boy you had just matched with. Jung Hoseok. Jungkook’s eyes narrow as he reads the name, trying to remember it in case he somehow had a friend in common that knew all the dirt on him.
He has a similar pair of yellow shades on his own head, thicker black rims around them and a charming smile on his face. Jungkook chuckles to himself. Yellow shades? How original.
“What do I say?” you question, eyes looking nervous as you wiggle the phone in his face. The small white bar beneath your match urges you to start a conversation, and coming up with the right words to say makes you overthink it all.
“Just say hi and tack on some cute emoji. It’s not that hard,” he laughs, pushing the phone back at you. Jungkook knew you could start the message off any way you wanted and this Jung Hoseok would eat it right up. How could he not, the alluring smile in your profile photo would draw anyone in.
“Okay, I did it.” Your phone is instantly locked and chucked aside in an attempt to be forgotten, choosing to grab the remote out of Jungkook’s hands for another distraction. It only lasts a brief second before you’re killed by the boss Jungkook was trying to defeat.
“Really?” Jungkook huffs, yanking the remote back into his hands, needing a distraction himself. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that you were searching for a fuck buddy while he sat beside you. How crazy would it be if he suggested being your fuck buddy, offered to help you through this so called wild phase you were searching for.
No. That’s not what he wants.
Would he enjoy it? Sure. But he could already imagine how much worse his heart would hurt if his feelings came to light and yours were non-existent. That is if you’d even agree to it.
“Relax, he’s probably thinking of what to reply.”
You make a noise of disagreement, fingers itching to unlock your device to see if it was true, slowly inching towards it until you finally grab it and go back onto the app. Jungkook just chuckles as he goes back to helping you with your game, not wanting to look at you as you giggle at your device. He could already imagine what this guy was telling you for you to turn into a giddy mess not even two minutes in.
He tunes it all out, eyes focused on the screen, fingers gripping the remote with a little more force than needed. His concentration helps him though, finally passing the level you’ve been stuck on for the past two weeks.
“You’re welcome,” he sighs, making a show of stretching out and sending you a smile, having it falter slightly when he sees your eyes still focused on the screen of your phone. With a frown he looks back at the television, saving the game before turning it off altogether.
Once he gets up from the couch, making his way over to the media console to store the remotes, is when you look up at him. “You’re right, this is easy!”
Jungkook doesn’t feel the usual pride that comes with being right, but the cheerful look on your face prevents him from feeling salty. Coming back towards the couch, he sits beside you once more, facing you as he rests his elbow on the back cushion to lean on. “Told you so.”
He keeps that same smile on his face as you mention how quick Hoseok was to ask you out on a date, even as you bring up the fact that this date would be at his place, and Jungkook could decipher netflix and chill any way some greasy boy tried to conceal it.
“I hope he knows I don’t want anything serious,” you mumble, chewing on your fingernail as you scroll through the messages.
Jungkook could almost laugh at how blissfully unaware you were of the piranha infested water that was the great sea of Tinder. Of course this yellow sunglass wearing wannabe version of him knows you don’t want anything serious, why else would he be so quick to invite you over with the cheeky excuse to watch movies.
All he can do is shrug as he stares at you, lips pressed together in an effort to not say something that would totally ruin everything. Instead, Jungkook does everything he can to be the best version of a wingman you could get. He tells you the ins and outs of hookups, how you should definitely not text him the minute you leave his place and tell him you had fun, don’t talk about anything super personal involving family or your work, and if he doesn’t offer to go down on you but expects a blowjob he’s a loser.
It’s solid advice that you mentally jot down, subjecting him to further questions your mind comes up with and even asking him for help on an outfit via text the night of your hangout with Jung Hoseok.
Jungkook stares at the photos for a little too long if he’s being honest. They weren’t spectacular selfies that you had taken much effort for, their sole purpose being showing off the outfit, but the way you look so focused as you snapped the shot had him zooming into your face and smiling like an idiot. When you double text him with a long line of question marks he snaps out of it, deciding on the second option you picked of mom jeans and a cropped shirt. Cute and casual, and definitely something Jungkook preferred, but he’d never tell you that.
When you finally text him a thumbs up and tell him you’re on your way out he just hearts the message before locking his device and trudging to the living room. It’s not often that he wallows in self pity, spacing those days out so far he barely remembers them. But they usually went exactly like this, ordering a large meat lovers pizza with extra cheese, drinking far too many Mike’s hard lemonade—because despite how much they made his stomach hurt they were tasty so he didn’t care—and binge watching his comfort show: Modern Family.
But even as he sulks on his couch, practically sinking into the cushions with horrible posture and a slice of pizza resting on his chest, he can’t find it in himself to chuckle at Cam and Mitch’s usual banter. He’s too busy thinking about which movie you’re currently watching, if you were watching it. Who’s Jungkook kidding though, you were totally getting your guts rearranged right now.
Taking an aggressive bite out of the crust he frowns and raises the volume up on his television, attempting to drown the mocking voice in his head calling him a loser for not admitting to his feelings. He knew this, knew he should have said something when he wanted to at breakfast, but Jungkook was afraid that if he confessed as you were talking about hooking up, that you’d see him as taking advantage of a situation instead of being genuine. I mean who wouldn’t? You say you want something casual and suddenly he’s spilling his heart out and you’re supposed to believe he’s not some pig trying to butter you up. He didn’t want to get labeled as a creepy neighbor after the good times you’ve had.
“So stupid,” he grumbles to himself as he takes another swig, the last drops of the alcohol hitting his tongue with a tangy aftertaste. As he sits up to place the empty bottle onto his coffee table his muscles ache, neck stiff from the unfortunate position it had been subjected to for the last three hours. With a small huff he’s rolling his shoulders, reaching for his discarded phone to see the time—and also check if you’d sent him some SOS text—but he finds nothing besides the bright numbers indicating that it was nearing midnight.
In true pity party day fashion, he doesn’t even bother cleaning up after his mess, just tossing the dirty dishes into the sink to be washed tomorrow when he would force himself to be in a better mood. Instead, he grabs a water and his phone and waddles into his bedroom.
The moonlight illuminates the space enough for him to keep the light switch off, undressing from his crumb covered sweats and shirt, choosing to remain in his boxers as he slipped under the cold duvet. The sheets feel fresh against his hot cheeks, flush from the alcohol, cooling him down and making his body relax.
Jungkook knows he should sleep, needing to be up early tomorrow for work, but he can’t stop his mind from wandering into dangerous territory. His buzzed brain has no qualms imagining exactly what you were doing right now, wondering if you’d be the type to act shy at a guy’s house for the first time, if you’d initiate the first move or not. Jungkook had only seen it up close once under the flash of strobe lights and the haze of alcohol, but he can still picture the soft smile on your face before you go in for a kiss, and he grumbles under his breath when he realizes that he wouldn’t be the one kissing you tonight.
What he doesn’t know, is that you wouldn’t be the one getting kissed tonight either. The Jung Hoseok you had perceived through Tinder, assuming he was all casual and DTF with his netflix and chill suggestion, had been anything but. What you thought would be a steamy night, ended up becoming a nice dinner and comedy watched, morphing into some version of game night where you discovered he was a little too competitive than you were used to. The only action you got was a kiss to your cheek as he walked you to your car and a promise for another date. A promise you would not be keeping.
So as Jungkook lays in bed while his thoughts turn into some fantasy of you moaning out his name, you shuffle into your bedroom and slip into your pajamas with a defeated sigh. You had already texted your best friend telling her what a bust tonight had been, deciding to just tell Jungkook all about it tomorrow because you knew he was most likely fast asleep now. And as you settle under your own covers, inches away from Jungkook with only a wall seperating you, you decide to just call it a night and pretend it never happened.
Just as you shut your eyes, nuzzling into your pillow, you hear the first moan come from behind the wall. A small cry of despair escapes you as you bury your face into your sheets, tugging them up and over your head to block the sound of Jungkook getting some action the same night you had been left high and dry. Of course he would, assuming you’d be getting the same treatment at your date's place, why wouldn’t he take advantage of your absence and not have to muffle his partner’s moans the way he usually did.
You’re just going to ignore it, until you hear a moan that sounds strangely like your own name. Maybe it's wishful thinking on your part, your horny brain deciding to pretend that Jungkook was calling for you instead of whoever he was with. It might be a little wrong for you to have that fantasy of your neighbor, but you aren’t blind. He’s hot, and adorably sweet, the perfect package for any girl he tried to swoon. And judging by the cries you’ve heard of lucky girls prior, you know he was good in bed.
You’re just desperate now. That’s the excuse you tell yourself as you slowly settle onto your back, feeling your body warm up when you focus on his muffled groans, desperate and needy. As your hand slowly slides down your shirt, you shut your eyes, biting down onto your lip to muffle any sound you could make when your fingers slip underneath your pants and past your underwear.
Jungkook on the other hand doesn’t care about his volume. His boxers are tugged down his thighs, knees bent as he slowly ruts into his sticky palm. His hand is tacky with the lube he had messily squirted on, thick cock glistening in the light coming in from his window. He can’t look away from it, mouth dropped open as he groans, imagining it was your hand tightly wrapped around him, your spit covering his cock instead of that strawberry flavored lube.
“Ah fuck,” he moans, shutting his eyes and throwing his head back onto his soft pillows when his thumb rubs along his slit. It continues to leak beads of precum, quickly wiped away to join the mess on his cock when his hand slides back down and squeezes along his base.
You hear that loud and clear, and when the female voice you’re expecting never follows, you realize he must be taking care of himself. It makes you feel a little less guilty now as your fingers trail along your slit, collecting the slick coating your folds before you softly circle your clit. A choked gasp fills the air at the small sensation, your body already wired after having expected to get some action tonight; it totally had nothing to do with your hot neighbor jacking off inches away from you.
With your eyes fluttering shut, you strain your ears to make out any other noise, muffling your own groans with a hand pressed against your mouth. The bed creaks lightly underneath you as you roll your hips into your hand, getting into a smooth rhythm that makes your body buzz.
Slowly, your imagination runs wild, and you wonder just what Jungkook was thinking of as he did this. Was he watching some porn as he did it, using his own filthy thoughts to push himself to ecstacy, or was this just something he needed to do to be able to sleep?
“Shit, so good,” he groans out, voice raspy, but you can sense his desperation through the drywall. It’s what has you sinking a single digit into your drenched entrance, biting down onto your lower lip when you feel the glide of your walls as you start to thrust into yourself, easing in another and mewling at the slight stretch.
Jungkook would absolutely give his left leg to know what your pussy felt like, he didn’t even care how disgusting he sounded by admitting that to himself, it was true. Blame it on the hard lemonade that made his stomach ache and his mind unfiltered, but he could almost visualize how you’d look above him, could practically feel the warmth of your core wrapped around him, dripping down his length as he fucked into you.
He knows you’re loud in bed, never being one to conceal your cries of pleasure and he would die happy to hear his name come out of your mouth as you creamed his cock. But for now, his hand would have to do.
His lids feel too heavy, jaw slack as the pleasure flows through his body. The wet squelch of his palm fills the room, mingling with his pants and groans, air growing thick around him. It’s been a while since Jungkook had jacked off, and even longer since he’d been able to do it shamelessly in bed without the fear of you hearing him, but now that he thought you were gone he can’t find it in himself to cover his mouth or groan into his pillows like he usually did.
The pent up frustration fogs up his mind, cranks the lust up to 11 until his free hand is gripping his sheets beside him, bed frame creaking as his thrusts speed up. The thuds of his headboard hitting the wall come from behind you, a choked moan blending in with it, and it has you scrambling for your bedside drawer.
The pajamas you wear get yanked off your legs and tossed aside after you grab your trusty vibrator, settling onto your back once more with huff. All it takes is a press of a button for the device to come to life, buzzing in your hand as you trail it up your thighs. A gasp escapes you when you pass it over your mound, brushing against your clit and sending a jolt of pleasure through you.
“Oh my god,” you whimper when you finally press the vibrating head directly onto your sensitive clit, legs spreading further apart as you increase the intensity. You could clearly hear the raise in Jungkook’s moans, and that's when the first irrational thought pops into your mind.
How easy would it be for you to head over to his place and deal with both of your problems. Surely Jungkook wouldn’t have an issue with you offering to suck his dick, wouldn’t mind letting you sink down onto him if it was just a friendly favor.
The little devil on your shoulder tells you it would be mutually beneficial, urging you to get up and walk to Jungkook’s with the vibrator still in your hand, but you can’t. This alone felt like enough of a dirty secret, a secret you’d have absolutely no problem keeping because although you feel slightly ashamed, you couldn’t deny how turned on you are.
The flashes of all the times you’ve heard Jungkook with other people play in your mind, the screams of his name that he tried to muffle, pleas for him to go faster, the resounding smack of his palm on flesh that always left you wide eyed when you heard it. And you start to wonder if maybe you’d be into that, the feeling of his large tattooed hand connecting with your ass, gently tapping against your cheek for you to open up for his cock.
That fantasy is like the first ember needed to start the fire inside of you, spreading uncontrollably until you’re bucking into your vibrator, teeth biting down on your lip to keep any potential moans of his name from slipping out.
“Fuck, fuck,” he chants, the same fire burning within him. Maybe your minds are linked telepathically, his thoughts gravitating to the same filthy fantasy you had. Jungkook was very much an ass man, knowing very well how good your butt looked in jeans from how often he stared at it, he could only imagine how good it would look as he fucked you from behind. Picturing the way it would bounce back from the force of his thrusts, eyes glued to the way you’d soak his cock, mimicking the tightness of your walls with a firm grip of his palm.
Jungkook can sense his orgasm approaching, leaves his chest feeling tight as he pants, legs gliding along his sheets for leverage to continue fucking into his hand. You’re not far off either, vibrator set to the highest setting you can practically feel your bones rattling, free hand slipped under your shirt as you pinch at your pebbled nipples. You’re both on the brink of falling over the edge, the same question playing in your mind: where would you want Jungkook to cum?
As his moans get breathier, whiny in a way you’d never imagine them to be, you mentally decide that you’d want him to cum inside of you, wanting to see the way his cute face would twist up in pleasure as he filled you up. Jungkook hopes you would, throwing all responsible thinking aside for that sweet moment of ecstasy and the mental picture is enough to finally push him over.
“Ah shit, baby,” he cries out in his room—thankfully having half the mind to not cry out your name as he came—eyes rolling back as his cock twitches in his palm, ribbons of cum splashing onto his stomach and chest. The warmth hits his skin, more droplets continuing to leak out as his palm milks his orgasm, stomach hiccuping and back arching from the stimulation.
The choked moan is what has your own orgasm washing over you, your palm slapping over your mouth so hard you know you’ll feel the ache later but you don’t care. A muffled gasp blends with the buzzing of your toy, thighs tensing up as your body tingles and writhes around on your sheets.
The only thing you can think of is Jungkook, the charming smile he’d give you when he listened to you rant about anything, his annoying habit of rolling up his sleeves to show off his muscles, the cute scowl on his face whenever you managed to beat him at Mario Kart, and the soft feeling of his alcohol coated lips on yours. It leaves you feeling warm as your orgasm flows through you, lying limp on the bed as you mewl at the sensitivity.
When you realize your thoughts have strayed from ‘pure sexy Jungkook fantasyland’, and switched over to ‘Jeon Jungkook your adorable neighbor’, your eyes go wide, finger immediately going to turn off the vibrator. In your haste to shut it off, you click the wrong button, changing the pulsing settings and nearly screaming when the device starts to buzz erratically against your overly sensitive clit.
With a strained gasp you yank it away from yourself, turn it off and throw it aside, horribly miscalculating the size of your bed and watching in horror as it lands on the floor with a loud thud. The complete silence from both sides makes the noise sound deafening, and all you can do is sit on your bed, half naked, and hope Jungkook is still too busy basking in his post orgasm bliss to hear the bang.
Although the blood is still pumping in his ears, he heard the thud clearly. His heart stops in his chest as he lays there, too scared to breathe in case he’d somehow make too much noise, suddenly afraid of being too loud after he had just made a show of himself. Jungkook slowly sits himself up, grimacing at the stickiness on his stomach before pressing his ear against his headboard to try to hear anything else.
All you want to do is yank the covers over yourself and go to sleep, pretend your horrendous date and your dirty thoughts about your friend never happened. The sobering mentality that comes after an orgasm settles into you, leaving you staring at the floor with a crease between your brows as you wonder what the hell came over you.
When Jungkook hears nothing else, he sighs in relief, hauling himself out of bed to grab another pair of underwear before entering his bathroom to clean up. As he stares at his own reflection in the mirror, he frowns at how pathetic he feels. The throbbing headache of his earlier drinks is already starting to kick in, body now sweaty from exertion, stomach covered in his cum.
“Such a loser,” he grumbles out, grabbing a wad of tissues to wipe away the mess on his skin before walking back out. Here he was, getting off to the thought of you, while you were out having your post-breakup wild phase.
His hands grab his phone as he reaches his nightstand, flopping back onto the bed and unlocking the device. It’s now one in the morning, and you still hadn’t text him, which either meant you were having the time of your life, or Jungkook had to track down this Jung Hoseok. The slightly protective side of him won’t allow him to sleep until he hears back from you, fingers already typing out a message and hitting send.
Jungkook 1:23am : you safe or am i gonna have to go all Liam Neeson on this guy?
When your phone vibrates on your nightstand you gasp, grabbing it before it could make any more noise. Seeing Jungkook’s name flash on the screen makes your blood run cold, already imagining what the text could be: calling you dirty for getting off on him, making fun of you, telling you to come ove—no stop that.
Finally mustering up the courage, you open it up, a small laugh spilling out as you read his message, relief flooding through you as you realize that meant he thought you were still with Hoseok.
Y/N 1:26am : oh yeah, you gonna show him your very particular set of skills? lol
Y/N 1:26am : i just got home though
Y/N 1:26am : like right now
Y/N 1:26am : still sitting in my living room
Y/N 1:27am : haha
He laughs at your string of texts, something you hear as he settles into bed. Jungkook ebbs away the small feeling of jealousy in his chest, trying to see the silver lining of this. You weren’t rushing to tell him anything about your date which meant it either went so good you wanted to keep it to yourself, or it was subpar and you wouldn’t be seeing this yellow sunglass wearing copycat again.
Jungkook 1:29am : glad you got home safe, goodnight y/n!
Sending back a goodnight text, you lock your phone and slide deeper into bed, pulling the sheets up to your chin as you stare at the ceiling. You already know the only thing you’ll be dreaming about is your cute neighbor with a bunny smile and body proportions that contradicted it. And as Jungkook lays in bed, wondering if he’ll have to push the crush aside, you’re barely coming to terms with the fact that the small glowing feeling that came with being around him might be something else.
Every single one of your interactions gets rewinded and played back like a seamless montage, remembering just how many almost moments there was between you. The way his eyes would flash down to your lips whenever you playfully argued on your couch, hands yanking the remotes from his in a game of tug of war that left you way too close in the heat of the moment. How he’d let you braid his hair anytime you found a new youtube tutorial, his starry eyes staring at you with so much adoration it made your stomach flip, brushing it off as love for a friend.
Then came the jokes from your friends, constantly teasing you about Jungkook, playfully saying they would try to sleep with him just because they liked the scowl on your face, and how quickly you tried to play it off. How the sweet old lady from the convenience store downstairs always assumed you were dating when you came in together, the low jab she sent when you walked in with Hajoon and she said she preferred you with Jungkook. That argument had been one of the ones that left him bolting out of your apartment with a nasty slam of the door, spewing nasty words at you, calling you blind for not seeing it and dumb for acting like you had no idea what he was talking about.
And for the first time, you come to the sudden realization that Hajoon was right. His deep set insecurities about Jungkook had stemmed from scraps of the truth, not just from him but from you too. The amount of times you’d find a way to slide Jungkook’s name into a conversation about anything, telling him funny stories about him, too lost in thought to see that while you were giggling as you reminisce, he was staring at you in disbelief.
The final thought that makes you want a blackhole to swallow you up, comes in the form of you, grabbing Jungkook’s face before planting a kiss on his unsuspecting lips at the club. You want to scream into your pillow as you recall it, how he had almost leaned back in to kiss you again before you had sobered him up with your dumb question rooted in revenge.
“Oh my god, I’m such a bitch.” you whimper. Subjecting Jungkook to be your wingman, jokingly telling him he should be your fake boyfriend more often, asking him for tips with hook ups. If everyone else could see it but you, he probably thought you were purposely friendzoning him.
The guilt piles on top of you as you start to piece together every moment that flew over your head, only making you bury yourself deeper into your sheets. It makes your heart twist, taking note of how Jungkook was always so quick to put a smile on his face despite how naive you were to it all, wondering if maybe it was too late to try to make something of this now. How many times could you call Jungkook ‘bro’ and treat him like you didn’t see him romantically, before he decided there was no hope for him anymore.
So as you force yourself to sleep, nerves and uncertainty weighing heavy on your mind, Jungkook snores away as he dreams of the almost moments that could have been.
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You wear a dress around them for the first time
A/N: Part 2 for JJK! Yay! I’m gonna start on the MHA version of this and possibly release it later on today! The link for the first part will be listed below!
Warning: All student characters are aged up!
Link to first part of this JJK HC: Link Here
You surprisingly managed to make him completely speechless.
Like it’s already bad enough that he can’t talk to you like he wants to due to his limited vocabulary.
But for you to surprise him (even though it was unintentional) by wearing this super pretty dress without telling him??
His body: 🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋✨✨✨✨
Even though he’s surprised about it, it won’t stop him from blowing your phone up with multiple messages about how pretty you look.
Expect him to randomly hug any part of your body when you two are alone.
He just loves how soft the dress makes your body feel underneath it. It’s like hugging a curvy pillow.
Will pepper your face with kisses to the point where you literally can’t stop laughing.
It’s normal for him to always be so affectionate towards you on a daily basis, but this was just a whole new level.
“You’re really affectionate today, what’s gotten into you?”
You continue to giggle at his kisses and the look that he gives you before typing something onto his phone.
‘I can’t be appreciative of my girlfriend and her immeasurable amount of beauty?’
Compliments are always normal for him too, but somehow this specific compliment made your face warm up more than usual.
(He has a way with words, literally!)
He’s so soft and cuddly with you throughout the whole day, so don’t even try to shake him off.
Not like you would anyways because you love him.
One word: PICTURES!!!
She’s never really seen you outside of anything besides your uniform, training attire, or casual clothes.
So when you show up to her room with a dress on, her whole face turns red.
“Oh my god, you’re so pretty!”
She wants to scream those words out to you throughout the whole day while you’re walking with her.
Will hug the hell outta you all the time just to smother her face in your tits.
Loves staring at your thighs and will not hesitate to touch them.
She’ll use the excuse of ‘wanting to pull your dress down’ as an excuse to graze against your thighs.
Yes she knows that you two are friends and have a platonic yet playful relationship, but you do know that she has a slight crush on you.
You don’t mind it at all though!
You even ask her for advice for other dresses that you’ve bought but never got the chance to wear.
She’s literally your biggest supporter and a beast when it comes to fashion advice.
Oh yeah, also expect for her to get abrasive with any creepy guy who has their eyes on you.
She hates creeps, and with you looking this pretty she won’t hesitate to kick the shit outta them.
She’s a subtle type of girl, but your change in appearance does make her blush a bit before smiling.
Of course she finds you to be pretty regardless of what you wear, but the dress really does make you stand out more.
Will compliment you throughout the day whenever she can.
If she sees that something is wrong with the dress, she’ll pull you aside and tell you about it before helping you out.
“Here, you don’t want any attention being drawn towards your panities.”
“Pull this string up more so it won’t fall off your shoulder.”
“If you get cold, do you want to borrow my jacket?”
She’s literally like a big sister and it’s so endearing to you.
Will be suggestive towards you wearing dresses more often since they’re a nice change to your wardrobe.
If she sees a creep or any guy being a perv towards you, she won’t hesitate to toss them or whip out her three way stick.
“You don’t have to be a sick perv to pay a compliment towards a pretty girl.”
Literally so protective over you.
Let’s be honest, he doesn’t care about your sudden change in appearance.
He didn’t care about what you wore before, so why would he care about what you’re wearing now?
Unless it’s you showing off your raw power or strength during a battle, you’re not impressing him.
However, that doesn’t mean that he won’t stare at all of your curves.
And I mean this man will STARE. Openly too.
He doesn’t care if you catch him, it actually makes your face heat up when you catch him staring.
It’s just something about that evil little smile that he gives you that makes you want to avoid his staring gaze.
He won’t hurt you though. Never that (well at least not directly.)
He also surprisingly won’t harass you to the point where you’ll be uncomfortable with it.
Of course he’ll have a subtle yet tight grip around your waist or thighs.
But he won’t make you feel the type of pain that he would inflict on others.
Will grab your ass whenever you walk by, no doubt about it.
However, you find it surprising that he’ll literally shift with Yuji just to sit or lay in between your thighs while wearing that dress.
He won’t try anything sexual (yet, or without your consent) but he’ll just lay there and relish in the softness of them.
You don’t say anything about it though and just find yourself relaxing with him on the couch.
Internally, he’s having a crisis every second that he looks at you.
He’s already silent and anxious enough to begin with, but with you wearing that dress…
He’s on mute for the rest of the day.
You’re just so pretty, he can’t handle it!
You try to come near him or talk to him like you usually do on a daily basis, but he’ll just avoid you or stay silent.
You thought that there was something wrong with him at first.
But when you caught him secretly staring at you and fiddling with his fingers, that’s when he decided to speak.
“You just look so….pretty.”
(Awwwwwww!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️ he’s so adorable!)
You smile at him and bring him in for a smothering hug.
His face turns bright red and he low key starts to shake because of his anxiety.
I mean, your breasts are literally pressed against him so what do you expect?
Not to mention that he can see your thigh being partially exposed from you leaning over to thug him.
Please, just console him and try not to give him a heart attack 😭
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This is my fic for The Citrus Dome Server Lover’s Day Literature Collab! Please go check out The Masterlist and support all of the amazing artists and writers that have contributed.🖤
A/N: WHEW guys... I don’t think I’ve put this much work into a fic EVER. I’ve been feeling pretty bad about my body and wanted to write a reader who struggled with it as well. Who better to boost your confidence than DILF Kiri feeding your praise kink?! I was heavily influenced by this amazing drabble by @rat-suki and got permission to use it as my inspiration for this fic.🖤 (for reference, reader is 30 and Kirishima is 42)
Thanks to @afictionalwhore and my dear friend Orchid for the beta read!🖤
RetiredProHero!Kirishima x YoungerF!Reader
Word Count: 5.3k
TW: size difference, oral (both receiving), daddy kink, praise kink (lots and lots of praise), TBH the sex is pretty vanilla but very passionate, both are insecure about their bodies.
When you trudged into work this morning, you didn’t ever dream of meeting your childhood idol/crush, but here you are, staring up at a beautiful mountain of a man. Eijiro Kirishima, or retired pro hero Red Riot, had never come into your coffee shop before and you’d never imagined he would. He was huge. Nearly 7 ft tall and built like a brick house. His hair was back to his natural black with flecks of silver at his temples and hung long and wild around his shoulders. He had on a pair of glasses and wore a dark maroon sweater and jeans.
Even though he’s aged, he looks just as handsome as the young man you fell for as a girl.
The year he made his debut, you were only six, and like most other six-year-olds, you idolized the pro heroes. Most of your friends loved Deku or Dynamite, but you always loved Red Riot. His smile, warmth, and his fiercely protective nature made your tiny heart burst with admiration. Throughout his hero career, you kept up with all of his interviews, the battles he’d been in, the awards he’d won, and his hero rankings. You’d also gotten as much merch as possible over the years and still wore your worn-out, oversized Red Riot t-shirt to sleep in. When he retired a couple of years ago, you still scanned articles online trying to gather bits and pieces of information about the hero, but he wasn’t one to seek out the spotlight. You think that’s probably why he’d always been your favorite. He was a true hero. Serving the citizens and keeping them safe was his top priority. You didn’t want to admit it, but you kept up with him for one main reason… You wanted to know if he was seeing anyone.
You remember being eaten up with jealousy when you’d see his arm around another woman going to galas and award ceremonies. Your sixteen-year-old brain knew that of course, he’d date women. He was a grown man and a pro hero. But your heart would ache, wanting to be the one his soft eyes and pointy-toothed grin was fixed on.
Now those same eyes were fixed on you, his mouth moving and forming words, but you were too star-struck to hear what he was saying. When you snapped out of your daze and remembered you were supposed to be taking his order, you were mortified.
“I-I’m so sorry sir! Could you please repeat that?”
“Sure thing!” his bright smile was hypnotizing, “Just a venti-sized flat white. Have you had your coffee yet? Ya looked a little far away there for a second, kid.”
Your heart leaped at the little nickname. “Yeah, sorry about that! I guess I should get a couple of shots of espresso in me before I try to be productive.” You chuckle nervously as you scribble his order on the cup and turn to make his drink.
“Oh, uhh…” he peeks around the counter to get your attention, “Do you need my name? For the order?”
You freeze realizing you forgot basic, barista 101 etiquette…
“Actually,” you face him, a sheepish grin on your face, avoiding eye contact, “I know your name. You… umm, were my favorite hero,” you blush, and your eyes widen in embarrassment, “you know when I was a kid...”
You turn back to your work, kicking yourself for being so awkward.
“Really? I think you’re the first person to recognize me since ya know,” he circled his head with his pointer finger, “I stopped dying my hair..”
You turned your head to peer up at him through your dark lashes, a light dusting of blush still on your cheeks, “Well, I like it. It looks good on you.”
The retired pro’s heart was bursting at how damned cute you were. Was this pretty, young girl… embarrassed? Over him?! He watched your tiny hands move as they worked on his drink order, wondering how small they’d feel grasped in his massive ones. Your soft hair caught in the sunlight making you look like a literal angel and he sighed. You reached up to grab a canister from the top shelf and a sliver of soft skin between your t-shirt and jeans peeked through. His gaze became far away and he damn near drooled at the sight. Just how long had it been since he’d touched another woman? Kirishima wasn’t one for casual flings. He always got too invested in whoever he was seeing. So when he and his long-time girlfriend broke things off a couple of years ago, he wasn’t rushing back into the dating scene.
However, things were a little more… complicated than just not finding the right girl to commit to. He was getting older and it was starting to show. Over the past few years, he’d lost his confidence. He’s bulkier around the middle no matter what workouts or diets he tries. Overuse of his quirk has caused stretchmarks and scars all over his skin. He was starting to get crow’s feet and he was overall just TOO big and TOO hairy. He felt like some sort of gorilla walking around in human clothing. Kirishima isn’t stupid or trying to fool himself. A young, gorgeous thing like you wasn’t looking for anything from an old, washed-up man like him. But, fuck… It was nearly impossible for him to move his gaze away from your ass… Oh, the things he’d do to you if he were a few years younger...
You turned to look over your shoulder and notice his gaze… and it’s apparent that he’s checking you out. He looks like a man starved, eyes glued to your ass.
“Well, well, well… maybe he wasn’t so annoyed with my fangirling after all.”
When he realized you’d gone still, his eyes met yours and he quickly averted his gaze. His cheeks turned as red as his hair used to be. You busied yourself with the milk steamer to hide your big, goofy grin. With a new burst of confidence, you decide to take a chance and when you go to write his name on his to-go cup, you write
“Big Red <3”
You pause, bite your lip, and think to yourself, “why the hell not?” as you scribble your number underneath the nickname. You turn to give him his drink and your nerves almost make you retreat and make a whole new drink. Then he meets your gaze and your world stops spinning. His vermillion eyes crinkle at the edges as his scared lips turn upwards into a syrupy sweet smile.
When Kirishima takes his drink from you, your fingers brush his for the briefest second and he can tell they’re trembling. “Oh no, I hope I haven’t made her nervous or uncomfortable.” He wanted to go crawl in a hole… That was until he saw what you’d written on his cup.
He stammers, looking from the cup to your face like he’s checking to see if you’re pulling a prank on him or not. Before he can say anything, you bite your lip and look up at him.
“I’m off work this Sunday. Just… if you’d like to hang out or something.” your gaze shifts and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
After a moment or two, his face lights up in a huge grin. “Y-yeah, great!” he turns and walks a few steps, then turns around and motions at the cup, “So… I should just, ahh… text you?”
You giggle and it’s the sweetest sound he’s heard in a long time, “That would be nice, yeah.”
“Okay, great!... Talk later then!” He waves and leaves the coffee shop, feeling light as a feather and ten years younger.
Sunday rolls around and you spend the morning making sure the place is cleaner than it’s been in weeks. Your place was small but cozy. For a fleeting moment, you’re a little insecure about how modest your apartment is. You don’t know exactly how wealthy pros are when they retire, but you know he’s more familiar with much nicer places than yours. You decide he probably knew just what to expect on a barista’s salary and tried to put it out of your mind. You checked on the cookies baking in the oven. When you found out through your text conversations that he loved chocolate chip cookies with the large chunks of dark chocolate baked in, you went out and bought everything to make them the same day. You kept watching over them like a hawk to avoid burning them. They still looked pretty gooey, so you decided it would be safe to get changed into something a little nicer. Just as you were about to turn the corner into your bedroom, your doorbell rang.
“Shit!” you looked at your phone and sure enough, you let time get away from you. He was here and you were still in your cropped leggings and t-shirt, sporting a messy bun and dirty apron. You groaned as you realized you couldn’t leave him on your doorstep while you changed. Defeated, you hurried to the door.
You opened the door, hoping that you at least didn’t have flour in your hair, and looked up into the much larger man’s eyes. The realization that THE Red Riot was standing this close to you made your stomach flutter and a goofy grin slide across your face. While you stood there star-struck, he broke the silence.
“Wow, it smells amazing in here!”
“Oh!” you jumped a little then promptly ran over to your oven, “Sorry! Please come on in!” you said over your shoulder as you were pulling your oven mitts on.
Kirishima walked into your cozy apartment and instantly felt at ease. He couldn’t pinpoint just what it was, but something about your place felt more like home than any place he’d ever lived before. As he finished scanning your apartment, his eyes landed on you taking the cookies out of the oven. The comfortable, domestic feel of the place coupled with your ass on full display as you bent down to remove the cookies from the oven had his jeans tightening. You stood up and he averted his gaze before you turned around, not wanting to get caught checking your ass out for a second time.
“Fair warning, I’m not a talented baker by any means,” you removed your oven mitts after placing the cookie sheets on the cooling rack and flashed a sly grin his way, “But when Red Riot tells you what his favorite cookies are… Ya kinda gotta make them, right?”
Oh… If you only knew how pent up this man was… he debated bending you over right then and there and fucking you until you couldn’t walk. He really hit the jackpot with you… a hot, younger woman with the perfect ass who bakes him cookies and for some reason thinks he hung the moon? Kirishima would have given you a ring right then and there if he didn’t think it would scare you off.
“Well,” he radiated warmth as he looked between you and the cookies cooling on the rack, “If you’re not the sweetest thing! I, ahh… might have gotten you a little something too.” he then held up a 6 pack of your favorite cider. “Because when Y/N, L/N tells you what her favorite cider is… Ya kinda gotta get her some.” he winked and you felt your knees buckle and your cheeks burn. You felt like you were in a fairytale.
Then you remembered that the princesses in fairytales definitely did not wear flour-riddled black leggings, old t-shirts, and dirty aprons.
“OH! Umm, I need to go get cleaned up. I’ll only be a minu-” his massive hand wrapped around your wrist as you walked past him. It covered half of your forearm and a shudder ran through you. You wanted those giant hands to roam every inch of your body.
“Please don’t,” his eyes were half-lidded and his voice was low, “...I think you look beautiful like this.” his calloused thumb traced little circles on your skin not meeting your gaze. His deep voice was impossibly tender.
Now that you’d felt his skin on yours, you couldn’t contain your churning desires any longer. You wanted, needed, more. Rising up on your tiptoes, you curled your fist into Kirishima’s shirt collar and pulled his face toward yours.
You felt him tense up for a moment, then relax into the kiss. His massive hands found purchase on your hips, digging into the pliant flesh there. A needy whimper caught in his throat spurring you on to deepen the kiss.
It was like your bodies were working around each other in perfect harmony… lips parting at a slow pace, like honey dripping from the edge of a spoon and tongues meeting in the middle to taste each other. You both savored the kiss for as long as you could, eyes lazily drifting open and shared breaths causing your hearts to dance out of your chests.
You saw him falter, his gaze dropping, and you feared that you overstepped.
“Ejiro,” he stopped you with a hand against your cheek, “Call me Eijiro…” his thumb caressed your bottom lip slowly, back and forth. His touch held so much devotion in it.
“Eijiro…” you sighed, looking up at him with pleading eyes, “I need you…”
The giant of a man before you swept you up into his arms and began walking down your hallway. You quickly wrapped your arms and legs around his hulking frame as if you were climbing a tree.
“Second door on the right,” you were panting into his neck, leaving sloppy kisses all over it.
You blew a cool stream of air along his damp skin and felt him shudder. A giggle bubbled up from your chest at being able to weaken a retired pro-hero known for being a human shield against the worst villains Japan has ever known. Your little stunt resulted in a grunt and a firm, warning squeeze to your thigh.
“So that’s what we’re doing today, huh?” he tosses you on the bed just hard enough to make you bounce up a little… then he’s on you, placing light kisses all along your neck as he prods your sides looking for a ticklish spot. You can’t remember the last time you laughed this hard and the fact that it was your idol drawing it from you made you dizzy with joy.
“Mercy! Mercy!” you were breathless and your abdomen ached from the forceful laughs Ejiro was pulling from you. He blew a raspberry on your neck as a final tease then relented, sitting up to meet your gaze.
You were absolutely smitten. You caressed the lines around his eyes and the scar that split his lips as your eyes roamed across his features. Every crease, every scar… you wanted to kiss them all. When his gaze faltered and he pulled away to sit beside you on the bed, the feeling you’d done something wrong resurfaced. You sat up beside him and placed your hand on his thigh.
“Eijiro…” your voice was barely above a whisper, “I’m sorry, I know I can come on a little strong sometimes, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I just…” your eyes meet and his gaze is unreadable.
“No, no…” his ruby eyes drop to the floor, “It’s just that,” he chuckles nervously, “Well, it’s been a while. I’m not very good with casual flings and the like. So I don’t really date much…”
You rise to your feet and move to stand in front of him. Sitting in front of you on your bed, you’re only slightly below eye level with him. You place your tiny hands on his thick thighs and nudge them apart so you can slot your hips between them.
“When I told you that you were my favorite hero,” you reach for his wrist and remove the hair tie from it, “What that actually meant was that I’d watch the news every day just to make sure you were safe.”
Slender fingers move through his wild mane of silver-flecked hair untangling any knots, “It meant that when that villain with the sludge quirk put you in the hospital for a couple of days, my mom let me stay home from school because I was so distraught,” you pulled all of his untangled hair to the nape of his neck and began wrapping the hair tie around it.
“It meant that my silly sixteen-year-old heart would ache when I saw you hand in hand with a girl in a magazine going out on a date,” you grinned at how silly you felt admitting that. Once his hair was secured in a low ponytail, your hands trailed along his broad shoulders.
“Now that I’ve thoroughly embarrassed myself, I’ll get to the point.” your intense gaze held years of longing for the hero in front of you, “Nothing about this is casual for me.”
Tears pricked the corners of Kirishima’s eyes. Had anyone ever showed him this much tender devotion? All the years he’d taken beating after beating, a glorified human shield, content with leaving most of the game to his friends. He was all rough edges and bulk. He was the one doing the protecting every time. Even in his romantic relationships, he was the one who would give, and give, and give… never asking or expecting to be taken care of. Being handled with such care was utterly foreign to him and it stirred up a deep need he never knew was there.
“Eji…” his glassy eyes met yours, “Can I take care of you?” you sank to your knees, hands sliding up his thighs.
Your hands made quick work of his button and zipper. He shifted his hips upwards to help you ease his jeans down his thick thighs and you pulled his jeans and boxers down in one slow pull. Nothing would have prepared you for just how huge he was. Your eyes widened for a fraction of a second, wondering how you’d get that thing to fit inside your cunt, much less your mouth… but it was something you were eager to find out.
Looking up at him from under your dark lashes, you made a show of lewdly licking your lips. You flattened your tongue and drug the wet muscle from his base right above his neatly trimmed patch of black hair, all the way to the swollen, red tip of his head. You felt the powerful muscles in his thighs clench as his head rolled back and a delicious moan escaped his open mouth. Making your hero come undone with one lick to his cock was intoxicating.
“Fuck, baby…” Kirishima fisted the sheets praying he wouldn’t come just from your teasing. He’s not sure his pride could handle it. It became a very real threat when he dared to look down at you kissing and licking all up and down his length. Once your mouth had gotten him wet enough, your soft hands joined your warm mouth in worshiping his cock. You met his gaze as you kissed his tip and licked up the pre that was escaping in pearlescent beads. When you had teased him to your contentment, you swallowed him down as deep as your throat would allow, wrapped your hand around his base, and moaned.
Kirishima had many blowjobs in his life. In fact, he’d had some that he would say were pretty amazing… but in all his adult life, he’d never been so thoroughly and enthusiastically devoured like this. He threaded his fingers of one hand in your loose bun and fisted your bed sheets in his other to ground himself. After a minute or two, he felt his release creeping up much faster than he wanted.
He placed his hands on either side of your face causing you to stop bobbing your head and look up at him. He ran his thumb against your swollen bottom lip and you leaned into his tender touch. He bends forward and places a kiss on the top of your head.
“Lay down on the bed,” he whispers into your hair. Nerves starting to catch up to you, you shook slightly as you stood from your spot on the floor. Before you lay down, you remember to take your apron off then lay on your pillows, heart pounding awaiting further instruction.
Kirishima hovers over you reminding you yet again just how tiny you are compared to him. His warm hand covers your knee and slowly travels up your thigh, stopping right before he meets your throbbing core. He runs his hand back down your thigh to gently nudge your knees apart. Leaning on his forearms, he positions himself between your thighs and you gasp at the friction created where your bodies meet. While planting tender kisses on your neck, he whispers, “I need you to promise that you’ll tell me if I need to stop or if something doesn’t feel okay. Can you do that?”
“Y-yes…” you moan as he nibbles on your earlobe, teasing with his sharp teeth but not breaking your skin.
“Mmm,” he places sweet kisses all along your jaw, your breath catching in your throat, “Good girl.”
Receiving praise from him made your chest swell. You wanted nothing more than to please this man you were rapidly falling for. He sat up, legs folded under his body, and slowly slid his hands under the hem of your oversized t-shirt. You felt his hands still on your stomach and looked up from where you were laying on your pillows to see what had made him freeze.
He met your gaze with a devilish grin, “Baby girl…” his thumbs run small circles on your skin, “Did you wear this for me?”
When you realize what he’s talking about, you hide your face and groan into your hands. You completely forgot that you were still in your old Red Riot t-shirt that you usually slept in. “Oh my god, this is so embarrassing!” you mumbled behind your palms.
Kirishima chuckled and shushed you, “No, no, no… This is the sexiest thing you could have possibly worn.” He pulls the hem of your t-shirt up to expose your tummy, burying his face in the soft skin there. Gentle kisses were placed all along the waistline of your leggings, every squishy part and every little stretchmark that decorated your skin like tiny spiderwebs were lovingly caressed with his plush lips. Having the part of your body you were the most self-conscious of worshiped like this felt more vulnerable than sex.
As the kisses traveled higher, they became sloppier and more desperate. You lifted your arms to allow him to remove your shirt, exposing your plain white cotton bra. The feel of his stubble against your skin as he moaned into your cleavage sent shivers down your body. Instead of paying attention to your neglected nipples, his warm mouth carved a path up the column of your throat, head thrown back to give him as much access as possible.
Kirishima whispered against the tender skin under your earlobe, “This okay, baby?” two large fingers dip into the front of your leggings. You nod enthusiastically, unable to form a coherent answer, “Mmm… I need words, sweet thing. You can do that for me, can’t you?”
“Yes… it’s more than okay,” your chests are touching as he works his hand down the front of your pants.
When Kirishima’s thick fingers slid between your drenched folds, you arched your back and grasped his forearm. Slowly, he spread your slick around, dancing past your clit with each stroke. His teasing was turning you into a whimpering mess underneath him.
He had all the time in the world and having you melt underneath his touch was the best way he could hope to spend it. After what felt like an eternity of him gently brushing against you, only slightly dipping into your needy hole and barely grazing your clit, you were openly panting and whining. A steady stream of praises flowed from his lips.
“You’re such a pretty girl… such a pretty little pussy.”
“Look at how wet you are for me. Like this, huh? My pretty girl likes my fingers teasing her?”
“I can’t wait to lick my fingers clean. You’re gonna taste so sweet.”
You were so worked up that tears began to form in your eyes, “Eji… I-“
“Hmm? What is it, baby girl? Need something?” His finger drags around your clit slowly, adding a fraction more pressure.
“Please, I need more Eji,” your nails digging into his forearm were leaving little crescents in his thick skin.
“Sweet girl,” he meets your mouth with a slow, wet kiss, “you can have whatever you want.”
Without hesitation, he sits up and pulls your leggings down with your panties. A groan rattles his large chest when he sees a thread of your slick attached to the crotch. Once his face is buried in between your thighs, it’s a real possibility he might come just from eating you out.
All the teasing had brought him to the edge as well and he was out of patience. With a few hurried kisses to each thigh, he dove into your dripping cleft. His tongue plunged into your core as he nudged his nose into your puffy clit.
You cry out and convulse around his face. His arms wrap around your thighs, firmly but gently holding your legs open to give him full access to eat you as thoroughly as possible. When he moves to suck your clit, you know you won’t last much longer. As he nurses on your sensitive nub, you feel the familiar tightening in your lower body. He picks up on this and moans into your skin as he greedily sucks.
“Ahh… Ahh, I’m- I’m gonna….”
“Oh that’s it,” he encourages you by praising you and massaging your thighs in his massive hands, “let me have it, baby girl. Come on, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”
Your toes curl and back arches as you’re thrown over the edge. “Oh FUCK!! Coming, coming…. ooooh god… ahh D-daddy!…”
“Daddy, is it? Goddamn”
Kirishima felt his dick twitch and his breath caught in his throat.
He wipes his face on the back of his hands and makes a show of licking his fingers clean as he leans over you, nose touching yours.
“What was that baby?” His voice was strained as he pressed his dick into the warm, damp skin of your thigh…
You bat your lashes and ghost your lips over his as you whisper, “Daddy… please let me ride you. I need you inside me.” The nail in Kirishima’s coffin was when you licked his bottom lip then quickly followed with a chaste kiss.
You waste no time wrapping your thighs around his waist and twisting. He follows your lead and lays flat on his back letting you straddle him. You grab the hem of his shirt and similarly tease him, leaving a trail of kisses along his broad stomach. Kirishima flinches a little, self-conscious of his skin and how soft his middle had gotten over the years. You meet his eyes as you pull his shirt over his broad shoulders and run your hands back down his body.
“Mmm, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” hands and eyes roamed over the expanse of skin in front of you, “It’s even better than in my dreams.”
He wondered for the hundredth time how got this lucky. You really loved his body? Maybe… maybe he wasn’t in as bad of shape as he thought…
“No,” his hands rubbed your hips, kneading your soft skin, “You’re better than I’d ever hoped to find.” He sits upon the headboard and pulls you closer into his lap, “Now,” he pulls your hair free of the messy bun, “Can you be a good girl and come on my cock?”
You lift your hips and place his tip at your entrance. That alone caused a delicious stretch and you knew it would be a slow process getting him to fit comfortably.
“Yes, Daddy,” your hands wrapped around his neck and he growled as he pulled you into a rough kiss.
“Good fuckin girl.”
He helped lower you onto his cock with lots of kisses, praises, and gentle squeezes. When you got closer to his base, the pain was too much for a moment. Kirishima used his thumb to rub circles into your clit, shushing you sweetly against your parted mouth.
“Are you okay, baby?” He brushes your hair off your sweaty forehead with his free hand while his other is still working your clit over.
“Yes, Daddy,” you whisper, “You fill me up so well. I love your massive cock filling me up.”
“You’re gonna make me crazy, you know that? Huh?” He pulls your lower lip into his mouth and sucks. You both sit for a while, exchanging kisses and whispers while you adjust to his girth.
“Are you ready to move now, sweet girl?”
“Yes, Daddy…” he helps you move, dragging your hips up and down his shaft.
After a few deep thrusts, you both increase your pace, matching each other’s movements. It’s not long before your head is thrown back, tears escaping the corners of your eyes. Loud moans and curses escape your mouth as one nipple is pulled into Kirishima’s mouth.
“Oh, Daddy! Fuck, fuck! Right there, right there… I… I’m… AHH!” Before you can even say anything, you’ve come undone, spasming around his cock.
“Oh, good girl, good fuckin girl,” you go limp and bury your face into his neck while he slams your hips onto his, chasing his release. The feeling of him using your body to get off makes you dizzy with joy. You lean into his ear whispering, “Please come inside me. Wanna feel you come inside me, Daddy… please, need your come inside me, Daddy.”
Your slurred pleas against his ear send him over the edge into a mind-numbing orgasm. As he comes down from his high and looks into your face full of adoration, he knows he’s caught… hook, line, and sinker.
The rest of the evening is spent eating cookies on your couch, drinking cider, and watching your favorite crime drama. The sweet kisses and touches sprinkled throughout the night feel so natural… Like you’ve been together for years instead of hours.
You end up with Kirishima’s head in your lap, running your fingers through his hair as he closes his eyes and relaxes into your touch. The clock on your wall reads 12:30 am and it dawns on you what day it officially is.
“Hmm?” He opens one eye and reaches up to scratch your scalp.
“Will you be my valentine?” You bite your bottom lip to stifle a silly grin.
He sits up and pulls you into a bear hug.
“What kinda silly question is that? Of course. I don’t ever want another valentine besides you.”
Your heart explodes and you kiss him, grabbing his cheeks in both hands.
“Sixteen-year-old me is absolutely losing her shit right now,” you giggle, rubbing his nose with yours.
“Well,” he grabs your ass and raises an eyebrow, “Forty-two-year-old me is losing his shit right now over finding such a sweet girl with such a sweet ass on her,” he nips at your neck and you squeal.
“Ooh, you ready for another round, old man?”
He growls and throws you over his shoulder. A swift spank to your ass causes you to burst into a fit of laughter.
“Oh, so I’m dealing with a brat now? You want me to show you what this old man does to little brats?” He squeezes your thighs as he makes his way to the bedroom.
“But I’m your good girl! Remember?!”
“Yeah, yeah… We’ll see about that.”
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Why Basil isn’t “evil” or knowingly manipulative:
Warning: Major MAJOR Omori Spoilers Ahead
When people aren’t saying Sunny is a psychopath who deserves to be in jail, they’re saying Basil is an evil obsessive mastermind who tricked poor dissociating Sunny into defacing his sister’s corpse.
I’ve already explained before why I disagree with either interpretation but I haven’t gone in depth with Basil’s character. I’ll write about why I don’t think Basil is this dark yandere intentionally manipulating Sunny into dependance on him.
Basil is a tragic character with bad abandonment issues who legitimately wants to help the people he loves most. Unfortunately he also happens to have a broken “normalcy compass” (common in abused and/or neglected children). This means his well intentioned actions are often more harmful than helpful.
Aubrey says during a part of the real world segment that outside our main friend group, she’s always been an outcast. I think it’s no accident that we see in Sunny’s memories that she was the one who introduced Basil to the friend group, implying he’s also always been an outcast like her.
With Aubrey though, we can attribute her outcast status to things like living in the poorest neighborhood in Faraway town while also living in the visibly most worn-down house of said poor neighborhood.
Aubrey has a hoarding alcoholic mother that neglects her and a strict father (Aubrey casually mentions as a kid that her father is weirdly strict about her appearance) who ends up abandoning her anyway. Aubrey’s hot temper doesn’t help either and so even though she manages to be popular and well-loved among her hooligan friends, the rest of the town judges her harshly as if she’s at fault for her horrible life circumstances.
Then we have Basil. Basil’s economic circumstances are visibly better than Aubrey’s and he lives in a nice house surrounded by pretty flowers. Yet even with everything around him (even his appearance) looking so prim and cute, he’s still treated as an outcast.
We know that mentally ill children are way too often shunned by their peers and the adults surrounding them for being “weird” even though it’s not their fault that they have different brain chemistry. Without counting the bullying Aubrey carried out with her friends, Basil was already being ostracized by people outside the main friend group. In one of Sunny’s memories, Basil tells them that he’d always been alone before meeting them.
This lets us know that there’s always been “something” that’s made Basil unpopular with almost everyone. We see hints of why in the contrast between Dreamworld Basil and Real Basil. Whereas Dreamworld Basil is well-spoken, charismatic and cheerful, Real Basil is a nervous wreck that is prone to panic attacks and bouts of screaming. We could say he’s this way cus of what he did to Mari but from knowing Basil’s always been an unliked outcast, I get the feeling he’s not like this only from the Mari situation.
Then we have the probable root of his very obvious abandonment issues: Basil’s parents’ are completely absent save for some pictures in his home. Sunny himself has never seen Basil’s parents in person. Datamining apparently suggests his parents abandoned him when he was a toddler. To top it off, having a constantly ill and mostly unresponsive grandma as his only remaining family doesn’t help with his mental health issues at all, either. No wonder the kid’s clingy.
There’s also the caretaker at his house, who is introduced as Basil’s caretaker, not his sick grandmothers. Basil is at the age where he can legally emancipate himself yet we’re shown he still needs a caretaker to look after him. That Basil needs looking after kinda says to me that he has issues he can’t be left alone with.
So all these paragraphs were to explain the evidence that point to Basil likely being mentally ill since before Mari’s death. Now we get to the parts that make me think he’s been suffering from psychosis even as a kid.
12 year old Basil doesn’t seem capable of understanding the concept of Sunny being angry and accidentally shoving Mari down the stairs. He seems unable to consider the possibility that it was an argument between siblings just at the wrong place at the wrong time, as if that just can’t happen. To Basil, it HAS to be “Something” maliciously causing the incident and/or forcing Sunny to do it.
About the Mari incident and Basil’s fucked up idea: I think a lot of fans forget that first, not only was Basil a 12 year old kid back then (not even a teen yet) but also a lot of the reasoning behind many of Basil’s most important actions seems to be rooted in delusions he genuinely believes.
The same thing happens when the photo album was scribbled over: in his mind, there was no way any of his friends (*cough* Sunny) could have done this. It had to be the same “Something” attached both to him and Sunny that decided to ruin the photos. Basil doesn’t seem to remember doing anything to the album at all.
We could say all of this isn’t psychosis but metaphors for extreme denial instead, like the way Sunny decides things that remind him of The Truth don’t exist (like the closet door).
I don’t think this is all there is to it, tho.
Basil throughout the game tries to guide Sunny to the truth both in Headspace and that the time in his bathroom where he tries to talk to Sunny about the Something following them. Too afraid to hear him out, Sunny runs away instead while Basil screams for Sunny not to leave him again.
This shows imo that Basil’s brand of denial isn’t the same as Sunny’s. Sunny escapes into his own head and pretends everything involving the incident is either perpetually frozen in a time before anything bad happened or that it simply does not exist. He’s all about repression and suppression.
Basil on the other hand, acknowledges that the incident happened but he saw a Something committing the act instead of Sunny himself.
Then, the final battle against Basil confirms to me that Basil’s delusions and hallucinations go beyond denial of Sunny’s guilt.
Even when the truth is finally out in the open for the both of them, Basil still insists it’s “Something” that did everything. He attacks Sunny because he genuinely believes he is attacking Something evil and that this will protect Sunny from it. The most important detail to me: Basil slashes or gouges Sunny’s eye out specifically on the side where Somethings eye peeks out from Mari’s hair.
Saddest of all, we’re never shown if Basil ever managed to realize that there was never a monster doing everything. Although we are shown the burden of the secret is gone in that last scene between Sunny and Basil, we don’t know if Basil ever understood that Sunny wasn’t forced by any monster to kill Mari.
There’s more that can be said but this post already got long af lol. My conclusion is that Basil isn’t some evil yandere mastermind. He’s a sad wreck of a teenager who’s always struggled with mental illness, trying to do the best he can for those he loves while being plagued by nearly constant delusions and hallucinations.
Tricking his best friend/love interest isn’t part of Basil’s modus operandi when a lot of times he can barely tell what’s real and what isn’t.
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Wrecker x F!Reader
Rating: E | 6.3k words
You’ve been staring at it for a few minutes now, and you’ve finally come to your conclusion. There’s just no way around it, and you sigh as your eyes flip up to his.
“I don’t think it’s gonna fit.”
Tags: Size Kink, Oral and Vaginal Sex, Size Difference, Cum as Lube, some Fluff
A/N: I just really wanted to write a Wrecker x Reader fic in time for the Bad Batch! No real plot here - just getting wrecked by this huge man and his monster can d*ck
A huge shoutout to my good friend @thefact0rygirl, she has a god-tier Wrecker x Reader fic called "Filled", please check it out!
Wrecker was intimidating. And it wasn’t just his size - standing a good head or so taller than his brothers - it was well, everything. He was loud, his rich, deep voice ringing out across the room seemingly without effort. He was funny, always working a laugh out of the person nearest to him. And most importantly, he was kind.
All of those things scared you, but you were drawn to him anyways. Struggling like a little moth, drawn to a flame that burned a little too brightly.
As you grew closer to him, these were all things you began to like about him, completely helpless against the loud timbre of his laugh, or the easy crook of his smile. The way he made you his with each stolen kiss, every gentle caress he could manage in the couple of minutes when he could sneak away to see you.
And now, well - you’re intimidated for an entirely different reason.
It was time to take things to the next level.
In true Wrecker fashion, you hear him before you see him. Actually, he is too far away for you to even hear his words, but there’s no mistaking the loud baritone of his voice, even through the thick outer wall. Then he’s here, right in front of you as he opens the door to your office, his bulk filling the doorway.
“How’s my best girl?” His smile is wide, pulling a matching one from you like you were a mirror.
“Wreck!” You are up in a flash, your arms spanning his thick waist as you hug him. His hands come around to embrace you, one large hand cradling the back of your head against his armor.
You tilt back to look him in the eyes, “What are you doing here?
He must have gotten back recently, he’s still in his plastoid armor, the dark paint flecked with bits of dirt and scratched. You had thought he’d be gone a few more days, and you are honestly surprised to see him here.
“Here to see you.” His head tilts, as if your question is amusing. “When do you get off work?”
Your eyes flick to the clock, it’s a little early, but it’s close enough. “For you, now.”
Wrecker smiles at that, and he waits as you closed up your office, following you out and into the hallway as you lock the front door behind you.
“Did you just get back?” You ask, glancing over your shoulder at him.
“Yes, just debriefed and headed here. Wanted you to be my first stop.”
A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. Maker, he’s sweet. “You hungry?”
You haven’t been together long, but you already knew Wrecker. It was hard not to, he’s so open about everything, wearing his emotions on his face. An open book, one that you’ve come to call your favorite. You knew the man could eat, and eat a lot. He was in no doubt starving.
His response is enthusiastic, and you can’t help but smile at his eagerness. Wrecker is already heading down the walkway to the street, you taking three steps to his one, hand clasped in yours.
That was one thing you loved about him already. He was sweet, something you hadn’t realized when you first met him. After the first time you touched him, held his hand, he didn’t want to let go. Once he got the metaphorical green light, his hands were never far from your body. Touching a leg, brushing your back when he stood next to you, holding your hand, anything he could get.
The two of you find a restaurant soon enough, there are dozens of stalls and small shops on the street where you work. You let him pick the spot, a stall that served some sort of roasted meat that you could smell a block away.
You settle in the booth beside him, your hip bumping against his playfully as his arm rests across your shoulders. You watch him eat with one hand, the food disappearing in front of him faster than you can blink.
As the dinner winds down, the atmosphere around you is starting to get thick, his hand on your shoulder has moved to your neck, thumb brushing rhythmically over skin. It felt like a sort of tension, one that made your muscles feel tight and your chest clench, butterflies in your stomach.
It is the unspoken question, the “what after” question. What happens after he takes his last bite? You were both on the same page, right?
You had thought so, after the last couple days, while he was away on his mission.
The two of you had been exchanging holograms during the week prior. You had definitely started it, late in the night on the second day he was gone. A hearty glass of wine, or two, had been consumed and well - you were thinking about him.
He had given you his private comm in case he was able to sneak a couple free moments, and was able to call you that night. You had resisted flirting for most of the transmission, since time was limited, but you knew you only had a few minutes before he had to go.
“Uh, listen, big guy.” You tried to sound casual, but your heart was racing. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot. Missing you, you know?”
His chuckle soothed you, low and rumbling, “I know what you mean, pretty girl. Wish I could see you right now.”
“I was just thinking that. Maybe, I mean, if you wanted... I could send you a holo-photo?” You waited, biting your lip as you waited for his reply. You hoped he knew what you meant, Wrecker didn’t do subtle.
“Yeah? You want to?” He had gotten it, his deep voice tinged with a mix of anticipation and longing. “I have to go in a minute - Hunter is walking over, but yeah - yeah, I’d love that.”
“Okay. Just, look at it alone, okay?” You’d be mortified if his vod caught him opening what you had in mind.
After saying your goodbyes you set your comm down and stripped off your shirt. Thinking for a moment, you posed carefully with your hands covering your tits, pushing them up and together, cropped artfully. You knew he liked them, the few times you’d been alone together he couldn’t keep his hands off them.
You typed in a lewd message to go with it, hitting send before you could talk yourself out of it.
He had responded enthusiastically later that night, and that only fueled your burning desire. Throughout the week you sent a few more, getting a little more daring each time.
At first we would reply with just messages, full of longing and a desire to return home. But then, mid-afternoon a day or so later, he sent one to you. The photo was waist to thigh, and he was in his blacks, his hand on his crotch with fingers wrapped around the outline of his cock. When you got it, you stared at it for ages before replying. It was like all the thoughts in your head had disappeared like smoke.
That had to be a trick of the light, right? Or just the angle? There’s no kriffing way he was that big.
Then the next day it was another photo, also cropped to his waist. His pants were tugged down just slightly, showing off an expanse of his abdomen, a dark smattering of coarse hair, and then the thick, smooth curve of the base of his cock as it disappeared into the waistband of his pants.
You don’t know how he did it but this one was a goddamn work of art. You wanted to print it out and put it up on your wall, to show it to everyone you knew.
But instead, you took inspiration. The final one you sent, the best one in your opinion, was taken last night while you looked at the masterpiece he sent you, two of your fingers buried deep within yourself, wet and hot and aching for him.
The thought makes you blush, and you absently pick at the remains of your dinner. If you wanted to know so bad, you knew it was best just to be straightforward and ask.
Drumming up your courage, you suck in a gulp of air before asking, “Did you like the uh, photos I sent?”
Flicking your eyes up to his, your breath catches when you see his smile, teeth sinking into his lip and a flush darkening the tips of his ears.
“Yes.” His answer is quick and firm, the hand on his plastic utensil tightening so roughly that it snaps with his grip.
“Did you… Did you use them?” You’re emboldened by his quick response, and you can feel your heartbeat speed up, “I mean, while you were away?”
You send a quick pray to the Maker that he knew what you meant. But he is quiet, waiting just a beat long enough that your heart flips, and you have to look at him again.
“No,” His voice is quiet for him, a low rumble that makes goosebumps ripple across your skin. “I wanted to, though. But there were too many of us, I couldn’t. I never got much time alone.”
Then he’s licking his own lips, head tilting to glance at you sideways, “Did you?”
“Oh yeah.” You answer automatically, “Loads of times.”
You’re both looking at each other now, and you watch the crinkles in his forehead smooth, lips falling open as he breathes out a heavy breath.
“Fuck.” His voice is ragged, his hand fisting in the fabric of your shirt at your shoulder, “Fuck. Can we leave?”
You were definitely on the same page.
You smile, “I thought you’d never ask.”
You fumble with the keypad of your apartment’s front door, and then you’re heading up the stairs. Wrecker is a step behind you, hands already running over your curves as he followed closely behind you up the flight of steps to the second floor. Then his hands tighten on your waist, turning you around a few stairs up to face him, eye-level with him for the first time in your life.
You both lean forward at the same time, and then your lips are pressing together, and you’re groaning low in your throat. He murmurs a low “yes” against your lips, hands massaging your skin as his tongue sweeps against yours.
You squeak when he gets impatient, hoisting you up in the air, his palms sliding down your thighs as he wraps them around your waist. Clinging to him with your arms anchored around his huge shoulders, he climbs the last few steps before stopping outside your doorway, your back hitting up against the wall.
“Thought about you, every day.” He groans into your skin, when your lips dropped to kiss his strong jaw before moving to the scars on his cheek, “Every damn day, sending me those pictures. Maker you looked pretty.”
Your teeth nip his skin, whining as his hands palm your ass, pushing you against the hard curve of his codpiece. Your hips roll against it eagerly, heat pooling between your legs as it presses roughly against you.
He groans, hips shifting against yours as he palms your ass, trying to pull you closer to him. Then, ever impatient, he is pawing for the keycard at your waist, and you both fumble to get it swiped through the lock.
As the lock clicks he was already wrenching at the handle, the metal creaking under his strong grip. The second the door swings open your lips are on his again, pressing and needy, wanting more and more. Anything and everything he could give you.
“Bedroom?” He groans against you, his grip around you tight as he steps into your apartment.
“Straight back and to the left.” You move to his neck, nipping at the hollow under his ear, the warm skin of his throat.
He carries you down the hallways in just a few steps, knocking the door open wide with a booted foot. Your room is dark, just as you left it this morning, the hazy film of light filtering in through your thin curtains.
Wrecker drops you on your bed, and you laugh as you bounce against the mattress. You lay there breathless and smiling as he strips off the armor, the pieces dropping noisily to the floor at his feet. Then he’s crawling on top of you, his heavy body covering you as he presses kisses to your neck. You reach for him, pulling at the hem of his shirt, trying to tug it up and over his broad chest.
“Easy, pretty girl.” He hums, his lips finally finding yours.
You moan into his mouth, hand fisting in the dark fabric of his top as you tug harder. Wrecker finally relents, letting you remove his shirt, but catching your hands as they reach for his belt.
“I should make you cum first.” He glances at you from below his eyelashes, his hands wrapping easily around your wrists, locking you in place.
“But I want you.” You whine, giving your wrists a yank, but they do not budge.
“I want you too, baby.” He dives back against your mouth, his tongue swiping against yours. “But it’d be better for both of us if you let me make you cum first.”
You honestly didn’t know what that meant. In your past experience, that wasn’t how any of your previous partners had started. Typically it was just some making out, a minute with their hand against your pussy, and then the hot, sweet press of their cock into you. It was tempting, to get to cum before he was even in you, but you want him so badly you are more than willing to skip a step.
“Only you would be this stubborn.” He sighs as you visibly hesitate to answer.
Wrecker releases your hands, his own cupping your jaw gently, “Can’t a man want the most beautiful girl in the world to cum on his tongue? I’ve been thinking about it all week.”
Oh. That makes you blink, tongue caught between your teeth. Okay, then. Who are you to deny such a man?
You slowly nod, letting your hands drop to your shirt, peeling the fabric up and over your head. He shifts to the side to give you room, groaning as the expanse of skin comes into view, his hands already moving over your form.
His lips drop to your bare shoulder, working his way up towards your neck. You huff a distracted laugh as you tug down your pants, kicking off your boots to create your own pile of clothing next to his.
The kisses trace your collarbone, a tongue dipping into your clavicle before moving to the soft valley between your breasts.
“Beautiful.” He groans into you, and you have to race to remove the undergarment before he does. The last time, he beat you to it and your favorite black lace number had been shredded by his strong hands. It was hot, so fucking hot, but having to pay for a new one had you thinking twice about it.
You’re nervous - he’s seen you bare, or close to it, a few times now. But you haven’t had his cock in you yet, and that was just due to unfortunate timing - a last minute comm from his commander or some such. He’s made you come apart with his mouth and fingers, never giving you the chance to return the favor. But you want to make sure that changes, tonight.
Wrecker acts like it’s the first time he’s seen you, worshiping your breasts with his mouth and hands. His huge palms covering and squeezing, bringing your nipples to aching peaks as he groans against you, his tongue leaving hot, wet streaks against your skin.
Then he’s moving down, his thumbs hooking in the waistline of your underwear. His mouth breathing heat against your mound as he slowly tugs them down, bringing your wet folds into view.
“Even better than I remembered,” His gaze is heavy, glancing at your face, seeing your parted lips and pinched brow.
He chuckled at your expression, tugging the fabric down further until you were completely bare for him. Then his fingers are parting you open, sliding between your damp and aching folds.
“Always so eager,” He grins, and you glare as you rocked your hips up in an attempt to get him to touch you. His fingers press against you, circling wide around you clit, but purposely missing a direct touch.
You have a few choice words on the tip of your tongue when they die out, turning into a gasp when he leans forward and tongue licks up your center. He does it again, tongue pausing at the top to pay attention to your clit with short, sharp licks.
Moaning, your hips are thrusting up, trying to get more sensation, now. When he hits a particularly nice spot and your thighs close around his neck and head, he just grins and does it again. As if he had anything to worry about, as if your strength could ever hurt him.
His name is on your lips, a low chant combined with “yes” and “please” as he works a thick finger into you, feeling your heat as he strokes you. You’re whimpering when he adds a second finger, their size matching three of yours, pressing and pressing your inner walls while his tongue works you.
Usually you stopped at two, enough to fill you, to get you to cum, but today he presses on.
“Can you take three?” He’s pulling back, and you whine when his mouth leaves your clit. You were getting so karking close that you just nods, words escaping you. With careful thrusts he works in a third finger, groaning about how tight you are around him, and you’re matching his sounds at the feeling of being so full.
You’re close, and when he starts focusing on your clit again with long, hard licks and sucks, you can feel your toes curling, the sharp heat tugging in your stomach. A hot fire, spreading and growing and almost reaching a peak that is just out of reach.
“Wreck-,” You can feel it rushing towards you, “Baby, I’m gonna-”
He groans, low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your skin. Thick fingers press and curl, and fuck - you’re there, coming around him, coating his fingers with your release as you shout his name.
Keeping his tongue against you, he laps at your skin, drinking in your sweet taste as his fingers slow. When your walls finally stop fluttering and your grip around his shoulders loosen, he pulls back, lips shining with your arousal.
After taking a moment to catch your breath, you rise up on your elbows, one leg still twitching as you shoot him a satisfied smile. He’s still kneeling on the floor, his eyes scanning over your body, then his hands are wrapping around your calves. With two short tugs, he pulls you down to the end of the bed, like you weighed nothing.
When you reach the edge he pauses, hands moving to the waistband of his pants. They hover tentatively, the thick outline of his cock clearly visible and pressing against the dark fabric.
You wet your lips with your tongue, throat going dry. The photos had not been an exaggeration.
“Do you want to-?” He offers quietly, looking almost shyly at you.
“Yes.” You breathe, nails biting into his skin as you tug the fabric down his thick thighs. Then you’re working down his last piece of clothing, his bare skin coming into view, a dusting of dark hair trailing from his navel that you just want to lick.
It’s embarrassing, but you can’t help the gasp when you see it for the first time, his cock hard and curving against up his abdomen. He reacts immediately to your noise, his muscles tightening and it bobs against his skin, leaving a wet patch behind.
“Fuck, Wrecker. You’re - you’re huge.” His cheeks darken again, but he can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips, or the way his cock seems to swell even more under you stunned gaze.
Your hand seems to have a mind of its own, reaching out to touch and stroke him, and his breathing picks up as you wrap your hand around his shaft. He groan again when he sees the way your fingers couldn’t even touch, making your hand look so small in comparison.
Trying to fit it all into your mouth is a complete joke, but you try, anyways. Your lips wrap around the head, tongue licking and stroking and tasting him. Hands stroked the rest, and you pull your lip off him to lick at his shaft, getting him wet with your mouth. Your hands follow, stroking his length and twisting, jerking him into your mouth.
His voice is strangled when you try to swallow him down, stretching your lips wide around him and gagging when he hits the back of your throat. It’s messy and probably not all that pretty, but the way he’s moaning, his hands wrapping gently around the back of your head, tells you you’re doing well enough. You give swallowing him another try before he’s trying to pull back, face twisting with exertion.
“Feel so kriffing good, going to cum if you keep that up.” He explains, breathless, “Been too long, want to be in you first.”
It’s hard to bite back the smile that rises to your lips, and you rise up in order to pull him down to kiss you before you’re laying back on the bed. He takes a step closer to the bed, eyes roving from your face down to the wet release coating your inner thighs.
“Please,” Your words snap him out of his thoughts, and he shoots you an eager smile.
“Anything for you.” He jokes, as if you needed to beg in the first place, as if he wasn’t a second away from saying those words to you.
His huge hand wraps around the base of his shaft, and he drops it on top of your mound, the velvety weight slapping loudly against your skin. You both are looking down as he lines himself up above you, his length arching up and towards your belly button, deep into your guts.
“Oh Wrecker,” Your eyes bounce between his cock and his face, his own eyes entranced by the sight of his skin on yours. “You’re going to split me in half.”
His cock twitches against you, his eyes closing as he tiltes his head back, “Fuck, baby. Say that again.”
Your voice pitches up with your nerves, “I’m being serious. I don’t think it’s gonna fit.”
Wrecker groans at your words, his hips thrusting forward unconsciously, rubbing himself against your skin. You remember the “just in case” item you had bought earlier in the week, and if you stretch you could just reach the side drawer of the table by your bed. Inside was a bottle of lube, which you quickly toss his way. He caught it easily, one side of his mouth curling up at the label.
Dispensing a good amount of the lubricant into his hand, he slicks up his cock, making it shine in the light of the afternoon.
“Ready?” He gives himself another jerk, checking your expression before moving any further.
“Yeah,” you exhale, breath caught in your throat. “Just, I don’t know… go slow, okay?”
He gazes at you and there is just adoration in his eyes, and you know he’d never be too rough, unless you asked. His hands pet down your sides, pressing against the smooth skin of your hips.
“You tell me how you’re feeling okay? I won’t move until you say.” You nod at his words, and then he’s lining himself up at your entrance, eyes bouncing between his cock and your face as he presses forward.
The intrusion has you sucking in a gulp of air, and you suddenly get why he was so insistent on making you cum first. Without the extra lubrication you don’t know if you’d be able to relax properly. His girth split you open, and he pauses when a gasp is wrenched from your throat as he rubs against your inner walls.
“S’good,” you pant, eyes wild. “Keep going.”
You’re gripping him so tightly he could barely move, bearing down with your muscles, stomach clenching. Both of your hands are fisting in the sheets, knuckles white with tension.
“Easy, pretty girl.” He leans forward to kiss you, distracting you with his mouth, his tongue sweeping against yours as you taste yourself on him, “Relax for me, okay?”
“Yeah,” you nod, sweat beading your brow. “Okay.”
His grip is tight on your hips, gently pressing himself into you inch by aching inch. You think there’s not way there’s more but he keep going, nice and slow until he bottomed out, bumping against your cervix. His cock feels so good in you, you’re so slick and so full.
When he stops you get the overwhelming urge to see him, and brace yourself on your elbows as you look down at where you’re joined. He looks impossibly thick inside you, a good inch or two not even fitting in yet, but there was nowhere for it to go. Your lower lips are puffy, stretched tight around his cock, shiny with both of your releases.
“Like a karkin’ dream.” He’s muttering, the look in his eyes tells you he knows, he knows how good his thick length looks, stuffed into you like this,
The first time he moves you’re fisting the blankets again, body bouncing as his thighs slap against yours. His hands are on them, pulling your legs around his waist as he gives an experimental thrust, watching your eyes roll back in your head. You can feel every inch of him, it’s almost too much.
“It feels like you’re in my throat, you’re so big.” You moan, the sound coming out strangled when he moves again.
Wrecker grunts back, his cock jumping in you, “Don’t say stuff like that, or this is gonna be really short.”
Your laugh turns into another gasp as he pulls out a bit further, before bottoming out again. It aches a little, a good ache that starts to wane with every thrust and roll of his hips.
He starts to move, shallow thrusts that begin to pick up speed as you both are more comfortable. The hand wrapping around the curve of your hip tightens with your moans, fingers sinking into soft flesh while the other hand runs over the skin of your stomach, past your ribcage, to cup your breast.
Wrecker’s thumb brushes over your nipple, pleasure pooling in your core as he works the sensitive peak. You clench around him again and he groans, leaning down to press his mouth against yours again.
Lips and tongues clash as your bodies find a rhythm, his cock finding a steady pace that has you gasping against him, your fingers biting into his shoulders.
“So beautiful,” he’s groaning against your neck, teeth nipping as you gasp. “My perfect girl, feels so good.”
He’s so big, his bulk arching over you and you’re trying to touch all of him at once. Your hands run over his shoulders, to his neck, fingers tracing the scars, down to the wide expanse of skin that make up his chest.
Then he’s pulling back, sitting back on his knees and taking you with him. He supports your hips as he rocks into you, your back curving off the mattress from your shoulders to where he’s holding you against him. Your hands are scrambling to hold on as he does all the work, thrusting with his hips and yanking you to meet him at the same time. Your body is bouncing with his movements, and the pressure has been building and building, heat boiling in your guts, nearing a breaking point.
“Wrecker, baby, please-“ You’re whimpering, and his eyes are instantly on yours, hips slowing just a fraction.
“What do you need, mesh’la?” He asks, lips parted with exertion as he pants.
“I’m close,” Your eyes roll closed for a moment as he rocks against the sweet spot in you again. “Touch me. Please.”
He lets out a low groan at your words, drunk on your pleasure. One hand drops from your waist, and you tighten your thighs to make up for it as he reaches between the two of you, pressing against your clit.
You gasp, body jerking against him involuntarily as your body clenches around him. He grins, looking smug as his fingers circle and press, drawing little moans and whimpers as you rush towards the edge.
“Maker, want to feel you around me.” Wrecker is moaning, eyes caught on where you’re joined, but then he pulls them to your face. “Please cyar’ika, cum for me.”
His cock is rubbing against you perfectly, he’s so thick that there’s nowhere in you that he’s not touching. His talented fingers pressed one more time against you and then you are coming undone, your cunt tightening and fluttering around him as your orgasm rips through you.
Your vision and hearing seem to fade away, growing quiet and dark at the edges as the pleasure explodes in your core, making your limbs tremble. The breath is ripped from your throat as you moan through your release, his name dissolving into incoherent whimpers on your tongue.
Chest heaving, you blink slowly back to reality as Wrecker moves again, groaning praises about how good you looked around him, how tight your pretty, sweet pussy was gripping him. He’s so worked up from watching and feeling you that he’s only a few strokes behind you, his expression tight and pinched as he tries to hold on a moment longer.
“Baby, I’m close, where?” He’s begging, voice a low, stretched out whine as his hips stutter, his rhythm starting to fail.
“In me, Wrecker.” Your thighs tighten around him, “Cum in me, please.”
“Fuck, yes.” His shoulders are bowing, and he gives two more hard, rough thrusts that have you gasping and then he’s spilling into you. His cock seems to swell as he shakes above you, a low groan in his throat as he coats your inside with rope after rope of his spend.
Wrecker’s hips make little jerks against yours as he empties into you, his hands gripping your waist and holding you steady against him. Then he’s leaning over you, letting your legs drop to the bed as he presses his forehead against yours, exhaling nosily with satisfaction.
“Sorry sweetheart, you just felt so good.” He presses a kiss to your temple, moving down to kiss your neck, nose trailing the soft column of your throat.
“Sorry? For what?” You croak out, arm thrown over your face as you caught your breath.
“I wanted to make you cum one more time.” He nuzzles your neck, lips ghosting over the red marks he had sucked in, before pulling back. Looking down, Wrecker freezes as his eyes drop to where the two of you were joined, lips parting with a low moan.
“Oh,” his features go soft, and he shifts his hips forward in a shallow thrust. “Just look at you.”
You rise up on your elbows, head tilting down to see yourself. Breath catching, you hear your own moan leave your lips. The sight is so lewd and wet, your skin glistening with a mixture of fluids, his cock stretching you wide. The solid inch or so of his shaft between your cunt and the dark brush of hair on his groin is also shining and wet with lube and your release, a sight that makes you clench.
“Watch.” His eyes are downcast, tongue caught between his teeth as he repeats the motion, flexing his hips in and out smoothly.
You watch silently as pearls of his cum begin to leak out, dripping down steadily on either side of his cock. They pool at the curve of your ass, darkening the sheet underneath you.
“Oh.” You breathe, heart beginning to pound, the heat starting to lick at you again.
Slowly, your fingers rake down your chest, nails raising goosebumps across your stomach as you reach down. Your finger drag against your lower lips, feeling his thick shaft splitting you open, still hard even after just coming.
Your fingers then part, spreading your index and middle finger wide as you slide them down, collecting his cum on your fingertips as you drag them back up. Wrecker is trapped, his eyes locking on your fingers like they’re the only thing in the world, his chest heaving with every breath.
The cum-coated tips of your fingers tease your clit, barely touching it as you circle your fingers. Everything is so hot and slick, your hips bucking involuntarily as you hit a sweet spot, a short whine in your throat.
“Again.” You beg, shifting your hips against his.
He finally looks up at that, at the way your mouth is dropping open, the flushed skin of your heaving chest. Wrecker watches your face as he pulls his hips back before pushing slowly back in. The bump of his cock in you has you seeing stars, your fingers pressing your clit with intent now. The thrust pushes more cum out of your pussy, the mess trailing hot and sticky down your spread thighs.
Your small room echoes with the slap of skin on skin, overlapping with the loud, wet squelch of him cum getting pushed out of you with every thrust as he picks up speed. The sound makes your body clench, everything is so wet and slick and you’re so full. And getting close again already.
“Filled you up real good, didn't I?” He’s leaning forward to growl in your ear, breath hot against your skin, “Can’t even keep it in that little cunt of yours, it’s dripping out all over.”
“Fuck, baby.” You whimper, and he chuckle low in his throat.
“Messy girl.” You can hear the grin in his voice as a hand reaches down to join yours, helping you reach your peak.
Sweat beads his brow, he’s starting to feel overstimulated, everything too hot, too tight, too much, but there’s nothing he can think of that could tear him away right now. Not when you were so close, nothing else mattered in this moment as much as you did.
Your breathing is picking up, the hot coil tightening and tightening as you work together. Wrecker’s brow is furrowed, micking your movements with his fingers as he presses and circles with you. You feel it coming, it’s hot and it’s fast and it’s… it’s...
The third orgasm hits the hardest and the fastest, and your heels are digging into his lower back as you pull him roughly against you. He’s bent over you as you cum, breath ghosting your face as he presses kisses against your neck, feeling the way your skin flexes under his tongue. His body fills your vision as you shake and tremble against him, mouth open in a silent moan as you convulse tightly around him.
He gives you time, cradling your head until you come back down. Waiting until you’re ready before he’s pulling back on his knees. His gaze drops, one side of his mouth tilting up in a crooked smile, tongue sliding over teeth.
“Look at that,” he marvels, a tinge of excitement in this voice. “Knew you could do it.”
You give him a puzzled look, but then look down to see where he’s pressing flush against you, the dark hair on his groin brushing against your lips. You must have pulled him into you with your legs when you were cumming, finally taking every inch of his cock.
“Look at that.” You mimic his works, breathless.
“What’s that civvie phrase? ‘Third time’s the charm’?” He teases, pressing his lips together as he suppresses another smile.
“Yeah,” You can’t help but smile back at that. “Lucky me, eh?”
“Lucky me.” He disagrees, before carefully pulling back, easing himself out of you.
You can feel the emptiness he leaves behind, a dull ache in your gut that makes you clench around nothing. As you do, the feeling is replaced with a warmth, the feeling of his spend leaking out of your wrecked pussy.
He’s transfixed again, a groan low in his throat as he sees just what he did to you, the way you now gape open, pink and pretty for him. The wet puddle growing beneath your ass, the white streaks of his cum glistening against your skin in the light from the shaded window.
You were beautiful. He could get used to this.
“Come here.” You open your arms for him, breaking him out of his reverie.
Wrecker collapses on the bed next to you, making the bed dip with his weight. His arm wraps under your head, cradling your body against his as you throw a leg over his waist. Then you’re pulling yourself up and on top of him, dropping your head on his chest as you used him like your own personal pillow.
He grins, hands resting on your waist as you straddle him, trapping his softening cock beneath you. You’re probably dripping onto him but he doesn’t care, too busy gazing at you with a wide smile on his face. After a minute you’re smiling too, pushing until you’re sitting up.
“Oh, I think I like this.” You look down at him, your thighs bracketing his hips, your hands resting on the broad expanse of his chest, “Will you let me do the work next time?”
He laughs, grin splitting his sweet face wide. For all his strength and bravado, this man was absolute putty in your hands.
“Sure, cyar’ika. Anything you want.”
A/N Part 2: In my heart of hearts I think Wrecker is a bottom that would do anything to make you happy. But I also really wanted to write a fic where reader underestimates his size and gets a little too cocky. Let me know if you'd like a part 2 where Reader gets to take control! ❤️
Tags (tagging some friends because most of you are here for Din/Boba): @jangofettswife, @deathwatchnightowl, @pala-din-djarin, @delusionsxfgrandeur, @thiccumz, @rexsjaigeyes,@justwastelandbabyy, @mandaloriandin
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✧･ﾟ: * Whimsy Stories Legacy Challenge *:･ﾟ✧
Do you ever feel like stories don’t come to you naturally?
That you find yourself repeating the same old thing over and over?
That you want to be the type of simmer who becomes invested in their sims lives in a borderline unhealthy way? This is the challenge for you!
Find yourself falling in love with complex and beautiful sims in the Whimsy Stories Legacy Challenge! Stories that you, with the help of your pixel people of course, bring to life!
PSA: You can, of course, add any extra story elements/drama/ideas/etc that you think of to your gameplay! This is meant to expand your gameplay, not place you in a box.
Money cheats are ALLOWED (to a degree) unless otherwise stated. Money cheats may be used for things like free real estate and storyline purposes when necessary.
Without a Home but not Without Love
Our story begins as most stories do.. with endurance.
You are homeless.
You’ve gone out into the world with nothing but a tent and a dream. As a child you never had your own home. You were bounced from place to place, always dreaming of a suburban home to call your own. With a family of your own.
As you have since you were a young child, you long for a life of normalcy. You are tired of everything around you being turbulent and broken. So you search for joy in the mundane.
Life is lonely at first, but fortunately you find love with another homeless sim. You have nothing but it feels like absolutely everything with your partner by your side.
You are a care-free, nature loving, and naïve dreamer. Some may call you a hippy, but you just call yourself happy.
From the ground up you create.
Create candles, fabricate your own furniture, and search dumpsters to make it by. Eventually, you have a home of your own, built by your own two hands.
A tiny home.
Not only is this a tiny home, but it is a suburban tiny home! Your dream is finally realized!
You will stay in this comfy small shoe-box size home for the rest of your life. Growing in your garden, raising your children, and selling the things you make for an income at the local markets.
- Find love while homeless
- Name all children after nature
- Must live in a suburban styled tiny home (that you build cheat-free) for their entire life. (Micro home for young adulthood - afterwards you may upgrade)
- Foster a healthy Garden
- Plant Parent (I mean.. This house is FULL of plants. Which surprisingly fit in 32 tiles)
- Have at least 3 tattoos
- Master the Fabrication/Handiness/Wellness skills.
- Have Loves Outdoors/Freegan Traits
- Complete Maker Aspiration
- Be self-employed with the Freelance SIMply Crafted Career
- Rarely wear makeup/Love to dress casually
Happiness is not only found in a partner.
You grew up extremely loved and cared for by your parents. They were the perfect couple. After watching what seemed to be the perfect love story unfold since you were a child, you feel as though it can’t be possible for you to have the same thing.
It even begins to feel daunting.
So you choose to stay away from love. You might go on a date here and there but ultimately your fear and anxiety about having a partner keeps you single for nearly your entire life.
Though you never wanted a partner, you love children. You have always wanted to be a parent. The idea of giving a small sim a home and love for the rest of their lives makes your heart swell. You want to be that for someone.
And whoever said you need a partner to have kids?
You say to heck with societal norms and adopt four children throughout your life. You parent them alone. Even though it’s just you, they have all of the love they could ever ask for. They are happy. Your family is picture perfect.
You are a SUPER parent and feel that your life is completely full of love even though you never had a romantic interest.
Until you hit elderhood. Caught by surprise, you meet someone who you instantly connect with. You both have lived your own lives and find yourself completely and fully in love, completely and fully unexpectedly.
You live out the rest of your days with your new-found soulmate and knit adorable creations for your grand-kids.
- Adopt 4 children
- Must not be in a relationship until elderhood
- Marry as an elder
- Complete Super Parent aspiration
- Have Unflirty & Family Oriented Traits
- Complete Parenting/Research & Debate Skills
- Must go ALL OUT for every season and holiday. Like, your house is DECORATED. Your tree is perfect. Your home should be in a magazine. Yeah, that kind of dedication.
- Must complete the Education career.
- Always have at least one animal in the household
- Have a gallery wall full of family photos
Sometimes life brings you a little bundle of joy in the shape of an accident
As soon as you age out of teenhood, (which was a wild time of partying and homework being turned in late) you become a mixologist at the local bar.
You are a clumsy sim who fears the sound of commitment but love to have a good time. You enjoy dating new and exciting sims but never commit to anything too serious.
You love your job and you love that you don’t have to show up for anyone.
If you don’t have to show up for anyone, then you can’t disappoint them.
One morning, after a rough night of partying and a whole lot of bubble blowing and juice, you find yourself waking up just not feeling right. You’re tired, you’re feeling ill, and food sounds absolutely revolting.
You take the test and sure enough you’re pregnant!
After the initial wave of fear, you touch your belly and feel warmth at the idea of no longer being alone. While children were never the first thing on your mind, you also can’t say you never considered having a few later in life. Turns out later is right now.
(If your sim is unable to become pregnant a baby will be “dropped off” at your door in three sim days. You don’t know who the parent is. *can use adoption for this*)
BUT. Who is the parent? You realize then that there are three different possibilities and you won’t know until the baby is here.
Will you confront them when you find out, jump in with them and co-parent, or will you go it alone? It’s up to you!
- Complete Serial Romantic aspiration
- Complete Mixologist career
- Have Clumsy/Noncommittal/Outgoing Traits
- Begin life alone in a dingy San Myshuno apartment
- Always have a bright/fun hair color
- Must complete the “try for baby” interaction with three different sims all in the same night.
If you have downloaded MC Command Center, change the chance of conception for Try for Baby to 50%
If your sim is unable to become pregnant, adopt a baby three days later as if they have been dropped off from an unknown partner.
- Name child after an alcoholic beverage (I'm sorry)
- Complete Dancing/Mixology/Juice Fizzing Skills
- Have a hobby making Juice
- Child Support may be added at 500 simoleons once per week with “UI Cheats” OR “testingcheats on” if you choose to parent alone.
(You MAY have more children/Marry after the first unplanned child)
Bringing beauty out of the broken.
Ever since you can remember, you have loved houses and architecture.
Late nights being driven to your babysitter’s while your parent worked late nights at the bar, you stared out the window watching overgrown homes fade away. You heart ached for what once was.
Not only did you love houses, but you loved the broken-down wayward houses at the end of the street. The ones that no one cared for anymore. The ones you felt must have been loved once a very long time ago.
You could see the potential and the history in every plank of wood and every brick that kept those homes standing.
As a teen, and into young adult-hood, you find yourself having a terrible habit of befriending and dating “fixer upper” sims. Growing up with your chaotic parent and household, it was hard not to feel that way.
You had to learn the hard way that you can’t fix sims, so you’d have to stick to houses.
You set off into the world with a goal to turn what was seen as unfixable into beauty. You flip every house on your street, every old and worn down house is made new. You slowly but surely build up the neighborhood into something brand new.
You work as a freelance artist on the side to sustain yourself and your family. Pinterest is quite literally your best friend.
You also run a very successful simstagram page where you are sure to post new photos of your projects and of your daily life!
Through all of this you find the Chip to your Joanna and marry a sim with a passion for woodworking and handiness! Together you flip the disasters that once were into beautiful dreams for other sims.
You soon find out that you were right, these homes could be loved again.
- Must begin life in Courtyard Lane, Willow Creek. You will flip every house in the neighborhood by the end of your sim’s life through manage worlds (You do NOT have to live in the lot to flip it)
You may instead place your own run-down builds in those lots and renovate those.
If you want an extra challenge - wheel spin for a budget! You can add the leftover funds to your sims household using “testingcheats on” or “UI Cheats”
- Marry a sim in the Manual Labor career with passion for woodworking
- Have Self-assured/Ambitious traits
- Complete Freelancer career (Art)
- Every child’s name shares the same first letter (ex. ingrid, isabel, ivy)
- Complete the Handiness/Painting/Photography skills
- Post to social media once every day
- Live in the final home that you flip
- Be dressed to impress all the time. Growing up in hand-me downs, you felt self conscious. Now you are able to dress as fantastically as your heart desires!
Love always finds a way.
As a child you always had a crush on the neighbor kid next door.
You were each other's first friend & first crush.
As you grew into teenhood, you eventually tested the waters and started to date! It just made sense. You together just made sense. From first friends to first loves, this was a forever thing from the start. It was rare, but it was happening for the two of you.
That is, until your partner's family decided to pack up and move to the city.
You tearfully part ways and decide that moving on from each other would be best, as San Myshuno is quite a far reach from your small corner of Willow Creek.
You were always extremely academic and were preparing for Uni from the moment you entered High School.
You work hard on your studies. Homework comes before everything else, and if not that, you can be found in a book. You sometimes feel the ache of missing your first love, but you focus on school to dull the pain.
There are dates here and there with new sims, but nothing ever compared to your past love.
You apply for Uni with straight A’s and a dream to become a supreme court Judge. You know you can make a positive change in the world.
You’re accepted! And on your first day on campus, to your great surprise, you see the person you’ve thought of every day for the past three years.
Your childhood love.
You instantly reconnect and quickly your love story unfolds all over again. This time though, there is nothing to separate you. After graduation, you have a beautiful wedding and stay together until you’re old and wrinkly.
- Complete Logic/Research & Debate/Charisma Skills
- Complete Soulmate Aspiration
- Have the Bookworm & Romantic Traits
- Have A’s in school
- Have twins.. Twice
- Attend Uni and complete the History Degree
- Complete the Law career (Judge branch)
- Have the most wholesome wedding that any sim has ever seen
- Must be best friends with another sim through childhood, date that sim as a teen, and then be separated.
- Must reunite with said childhood love in University and remain together for the rest of your days!
I make up my own story as I go. Most often it changes and rides with the flow.
Ever since you can remember, you haven’t been sure of anything.
You aren’t sure if you have a favorite color, a favorite type of music, or even a favorite food!
You seem to change your mind about the same subject ten times a day. It's exhausting for everyone around you, but this is just your normal.
Your clothing is mismatched. A different style every day and for every outfit. Your home is a tornado of contemporary, traditional, eclectic, and modern.
You live in clutter. It's.. a lot. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. Somehow, the mess is comforting to you.
You constantly have a new skill you’re interested in, always picking up a new “thing”
And your mismatched mind even goes as far as your relationships (which you bounce in and out of like it's nobody’s business)
By the time you’re an elder you’ve been married three times and finally settle with someone who is the exact opposite of you. A perfectionist who deals with all of your mess because they truly do love you. They don’t want to change you, and that makes your heart sing. Because for all of your life before them, that has been everyone else’s goal.
You go with the flow, you change your hair, you start woodworking at 12am. Your soul is a chaotic but beautiful mess and that's just the way you like it.
- Complete the Renaissance Sim aspiration
- Have a different style and/or mismatched colors for every outfit
- Randomize one outfit completely (that little dice button will be your best friend)
- Change hair color every time you age up
- Be married three times (and divorced twice)
- Have and then lose five friends
- Complete level 3 of 3 different jobs
- Change your name at least once
- Find a perfectionist sim to marry in adulthood
- Have Goofball/Slob Traits
Nature holds us close when others do not
Ah, to live a life of peace and quiet. The only sounds being the water rushing behind your cottage (one with a perfect aesthetic)
No need to dream of it, because this IS your life!
You grow up feeling very passionate about the environment and the world around you. Your parent was a MESS. You had a fun childhood, but their constant hobby jumping was terrible for the environment.
As soon as you become a young adult, you swear off all electricity and plumbing. You want to undo the damage that Sim-kind does to the world in any way possible.
You spend your days repairing windmills and solar panels, showering in rain water, painting to make a living, and attending protests in the city when possible. Even though you hate leaving your isolated home.
You live for being alone, but mostly because you find it hard to talk to people. Creating real connections can be difficult but one day you hope to have another someone in your life who is also content to live in the quiet.
You can often be found hiking, biking, swimming, scuba diving, and even at the base of Mt. Komorebi in your spare time! Nature is your closest friend.
When you aren’t hiking, you’re playing with your pet raccoon. You found him digging in the trash one night and just couldn’t leave him. I mean, look at his beady little eyes!
Until one day on a hike when you find another loner.
Another lover of the quiet and peaceful life.
And you feel a warmth in your chest that you haven’t for years.
Together, you raise one single child (you still aren’t TOO fond of people, let's be real) and live the rest of your days in your warm little corner of the world.
- Have Gloomy/Loner Traits
- Complete Curator Aspiration
- Live in a small beach home OR woodland cottage
- Live Off the Grid for entire life
- Join a protest whenever possible (or donate to the cause)
- Have a raccoon for a pet
- Complete Painting/Fitness Skills
- Complete Painting Career
- Have only three close friends
- Have only one child
- Must be a Scout as a Child
Being known by one person who truly sees you is worth more than 1000 eyes watching
It’s always been about you and only you from the moment you opened your star studded eyes. You were an only child who grew up in a small off the grid cottage, but you longed for something more.
As a teen your walls were covered in boy band posters. You were constantly singing and as soon as you were a teen, your heart was set on acting.
You longed to be known, to be wanted, to be seen. By every sim alive.
You’re also a liiiittle full of yourself. But aren’t we all sometimes?
And regardless, beneath all of the self-absorbed layers you have a huge heart. You volunteer once a week, donate to charities whenever possible, and you have a deep love for animals.
You age up and instantly move to Del Sol Valley where you join the acting career. You soon meet a sim who is mega famous but their personality does not match up to what the public sees. You fall in love quickly and get married as a young adult.
Soon you have one child with them, but you find out that they are not all that they seem.
You catch them cheating on you with your rival in the industry. You know your worth and instantly end it, taking your child with you.
You start over from the beginning, building your career off of your own back as a single parent. But you are strong and you persevere.
Throughout all of this, you do find fame. But you also find real and true love with a sim not at all interested in the lime light who also has a child.
You live your days in a beautiful penthouse apartment and adore your perfect blended family.
- Have Self-Absorbed/Good traits
- Volunteer once a week
- Donate to charity once a week
- Always have three pets in household
- Get married as Y/A to an Romantic/Mean sim
- Have one child with that spouse
- Must catch your mega famous spouse cheating on you with a sim that is your enemy
- Find love with a non-famous sim who has a child
- End up in penthouse apartment (can cheat for money)
- Master Acting/Charisma Skills
- Complete Acting Career
- Complete Master Actor Aspiration
Sometimes the truth remains only in your heart.
You are the definition of a rainbow.
You are a bright shiny smile on a cloudy day and you LOVE color!
As a creative, you spend your spare time writing and daydreaming about new stories.
But you have a secret interest hidden inside of you.
You are absolutely obsessed with the paranormal. Your main goal in life is to prove the existence of every occult that has been whispered about for years, the stories only found in long forgotten pages of dusty books.
As a child growing up in opera houses, theatres, and movie sets with your parent, your interest was sparked by stories of long forgotten ghosts hiding in the shadows of the old buildings.
You want to prove to the world that these things are real because in your sunshiny heart, you feel that magic must exist.
And so you pack up and move to the town that nearly every sim strays from on long trips.
You move to Forgotten Hollow. But you will not succumb to the neighbors tastes in style. You build the most flamboyant home that there ever was.
You are an extremely paranoid sim, but does that mean that you’re wrong? You don’t think so.
You spend your entire life searching for any occult.
The most amazing part? You find every. Single. One.
You write a book of your encounter for each occult and befriend all of them.
You even end up marrying a rather handsome spellcaster!
Even though you have a peace inside of you now that you were always right, that your life was not for waste, the Sim world is not quite ready to believe your stories. They love your books! But assume they were fiction.
You’re okay with that. Because in your heart, you know the truth. And you now have a little piece of magic, too.
- Complete Bestselling Author Aspiration
- Complete Writing/Vampire Lore Skills
- Write a book on each of the following occults:
Vampires | Spellcasters | Mermaids | Ghosts | Aliens
(Must visually see proof of occult OR become good friends with one before writing each book)
- Live in Forgotten Hollow
- Always dress in vibrant colors
- Have a brilliantly bright home
- Marry a spellcaster
- Use voodoo dolls in spare time
- Complete Writing Career
- Have Paranoid/Creative Traits
I know that I’m strange. But magical was nothing I’d ever dreamt of.
From the moment you were born there was a certain magic about you. Everyone could feel it.
You felt different too.
But what did different mean? You know that your parents spent their entire life searching for answers to the paranormal. You know that they believe in it with their whole heart. But you’re still skeptical. Until one day when you follow the pages of their book, desperate for answers about yourself.
To your great surprise you happen upon a strange archway. A magical portal to another world. Carefully you step in, disbelief buried deep inside of you but hope overpowering it. Hope for answers.
You discover that your true self is a spellcaster. Not only that, but one of your parents is a spellcaster too. Your world is flipped upside down in an instant.
You begin to try and learn what this means. You study wizardry, you find a wand, a familiar, and a broom. You try your hardest to go back to your average life in the business tract but you can’t focus.
Magic is your entire life now.
But the world isn’t ready for magic. Sims are afraid of the unknown, and so you hide your secret life within the walls of your home.
You fall in love with a mortal and eventually find the courage to confide in them that you are a wizard. They didn’t even blink at this information. They too knew that there was something different about you. But oh so wonderful, too.
Eventually, they make the decision to become a wizard as well.
Together you live a beautiful life full of magic. Not just the kind with spells and potions, but that most special kind of magic. Love. Memories made between the two of you.
And as sappy as it is, you truly live happily ever after.
- Grow up not knowing your parent is a spellcaster. (ignore your sim being weird and magic-y, okay? we need imagination here)
- Always have Five close friends (people love to be near your energy)
- Complete Spell craft and Sorcery Aspiration & Purveyor of Potions Aspiration
- Complete all Spellcaster Perks
- Join the business career and quit after reaching level 5
- Turn a family pet into a Familiar
- Travel to the Magic Realm for the first time as a Young Adult, searching for answers
- Have Cheerful Trait
- Must be a whimsical dresser (You decide what whimsy is to you, that's what makes it whimsical!)
- Fall in love with a mortal who eventually becomes a spellcaster
- Live in a Whimsical/Magical/Cooky Spellcaster Home (think hobbit holes, the burrow, what have you)
Huge credits and love to my wonderful friends Kara, Aubie, Percabeth, Gillian, and Mara who helped me refine and perfect this challenge. Thank you for adding magic and inspiration to my little passion project.
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The Smell of Sunshine
GIFs by @sugarwinchester
Pairing: Mickey Henry x Reader
Word Count: 1.3K
Summary: After a few weeks of dating, you want Mickey to take your virginity.
Warnings: 18+, minors DNI! loss of virginity, protected vaginal sex, smoking, fingering, swearing, mention of alcohol, CONSENT! (love that journey ), age gap (reader is 22, Mickey is..well..however old he is in the film lol)
A/N: Mickey never gets any love so I just had to write this for him! Thank you so much to @sableseb for editing this self-indulgent smutty, sweaty moment
I listened to this playlist while writing and feel it captures the essence of the story! 💓🌴☀️
The Grecian sunset was absolute magic. Hues of golden yellow and florid orange blushed along the endless horizon.
Though you lived nearly a mile from the beach, the balaeric beats still radiated throughout the four walls of your shoebox of a condo. It was a welcomed sensation - you and Mickey had spent the evening dancing at the pier and had decided keep the party going back at your place.
You had been casually seeing each other for a few weeks now, having met at one of his DJ gigs on Mykonos. The two of you had been inseparable ever since. Mickey’s boyish charm was intoxicating and everyone he met was magnetized by his effortless charisma. Greece may have been a temporary moment but you wanted him to stay firmly planted in your life. He was the perfect storm of cocky and caring, snarky and sentimental. But there was something you really needed to get off your chest tonight.
The ramshackle A/C unit was busted and it was the middle of June but luckily tonight there was a bit of a forgiving breeze floating through the open glass doors of the balcony. Smoking was a habit you tried to kick but Mickey just looked so damn good with a cig pushed between his pouty lips. You would chain-smoke three packs if it meant you got to call him yours.
“Listen Mick,” you mumbled between drawn-out inhales of your Virginia Slim, a nasty habit you only tended to pick up when you were extremely nervous. “I have to tell you something.”
Worry wiped across his face, his handsomely wrinkled eyes narrowing. “What is it, angelface? You good?” He sweetly dusted the bottom of your chin with his hand.
Your cigarette had been smoked almost to the foam filter, another nervous habit. As you recklessly flicked the embered butt over the balcony railing, you blurted it out: “I’m a virgin.” It wasn’t quite how you had wanted to deliver the news but it was out in the universe now and you couldn’t take it back.
Startled at first, he raised his eyebrows, a clear expression of bewilderment painted across his face. He was pensive - you weren’t sure if he was repulsed or disappointed or turned on. It would be great if he could say something though because the room was thick with tension and it grated on your nerves. Swallowing thickly, you looked down at your feet.
He leaned in, pushing your chin just slightly up with his thumb and index finger, blue eyes locked on you. Still no words.
“That is so hot, babe. That makes me hard just thinkin’ about it.”
“Mickey.. I want you to be my first. Tonight.”
You took charge, yanking him by his tanned bicep to the bedroom and shoving him onto the twin bed with a soft thud. You straddled him, the sheer fabric of your dress riding up on your hips as you cupped his stubbled face and kissed into him deeply.
“Wait, wait, wait, wait!” He gently pried you off his mouth but kept his hands planted on your hips. “Are you sure this is what you want, babes?”
You nodded emphatically, fingers entangled in his zipper. “I want it.. need it.” You took his semi-hard cock in your manicured hands and twisted your way down to the base.
“Then let me show you, honey.”
In one fell swoop, Mickey had finessed you onto your back. His palm skated up your pretty lilac sundress and his fingers pressed against your cotton panties. “Ugh, baby. So fuckin’ sweet. Keep these open okay? Can you do that?” he gently commanded, parting your quivering thighs.
Just hearing his words alone made your tummy flip, your insides tingle and swell. You lapped up the praise. He slid one finger under the cotton, crafting little patterns from your warm folds up to your clit. “My perfect fuckin’ baby.”
Your cheeks flushed pink as he continued to play. The low, pulsing beach bass still resonated through the room. You leant back, legs spread wide, head lolling back against the headboard. He traced circles along your pussy with his palm, running his thumb along your clit.
“Mickey, I want you inside me. Now.”
Mickey leaned over to the bedside table with his free hand, continuing to knead your soaked pussy with the other. He snatched up the foil package and before he tore into it, he asked once more, “Are you sure you want this?”
As he sat up, you were able to see him in all of his glory. The lack of A/C had made his golden complexion glisten; beads of sweat dripping from his forehead as he wiped them with the back of his hand. Eyes widening at the sight of his length - you had seen it before but had entirely blanked on just how implausibly massive it was.
He perched a pillow behind your back, a subtle gesture for you to get comfortable. You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth in eager anticipation.
Mickey slid the rubber onto his pulsing length and nestled his hand under the small of your back, shifting you a bit further up on the bed. “This might hurt a little bit, okay? You tell me if I’m hurtin’ you.”
He used your own slick to slide in tenderly but the wind was still knocked right out of you. Your hands gripped the sheets as you tried in vain to not scream at the searing stretch of Mickey’s cock.
Gazing into his baby blues, he took his left hand and wrapped it into yours.“So tight, so perfect.” He lulled there, allowing you to adjust to the violent, stinging stretch. While you appreciated his tenderness, just sitting there and warming his cock made you ache.
“Okay, Mickey, I’m gonna need you to fuck me.”
“A woman after my own heart, yes ma’am!” he slyly grinned that thousand-watt smile. His pace quickened, more droplets of sweat pouring off him.
Now breaking you in perfectly, you pushed through the prelude of pain and were now wrapped in your own personal euphoria. You eased into the rhythmic pounding as he bottomed out. Any attempt at telling your brain to remember this for later was futile because all cognitive thought had been wiped.
A foreign flutter fills you deep in the pit of your stomach, a pressure building as your entire form clenches up. You’ve played with yourself before, sure, but you’d never been stuffed to the brim with a thick cock. Your legs turn to syrup as the orgasm rips through you, salty tears sting in the corner of your eyes.
Mickey, always knowing how to cut any palpable tension, jests, “don’t go all soft on me now, heh? Is my dick really that bad that it’s making you cry?”
And there it is, that boyish charm. After the brief comedic intermission, he continues drilling up into your pearly pink tightness. Muffled moans echo over the ringing of the deep house music. Salty skin on salty skin, sticking together and pulling apart like velcro; the sweat and the sex and the hot Athens humidity all culprits. Both of you plunged in pleasure, Mickey muttered through gritted teeth, “too tight, soooo tight. I need to cum now babes.”
With one final thrust, he anchors himself deep into you as he explodes inside your pulsing walls. You could feel his cock twitch and tremble as he coated the rubber with his salty cream.
It’s so damn hot. Too hot to even think about putting clothes back on.
Splayed out on the tiny bed, you bask in your first ever post-sex glow. Mickey reaches down to pluck the baby hairs out of your eyes. “You were perfect. My perfect, sexy, angelic, gorgeous goddess!” he cries out with utmost enthusiasm.
“Miiiiickey, can we go grab some mojitos?” you inquire, sliding your panties back on.
As he kisses your forehead and throws the condom into the rickety metal trash can, he couldn’t help but chuckle.
A ping of panic washed over you, “What? Babe? Did I do something wrong?”
“No, no, no. You were perfect. Just think getting mojitos is rather kismet. A callback to our first date, don’tcha remember? Mojitos and a rip around on my moped? Guess we are all about remembering firsts tonight.”
As always, thank you sooo much for reading!!
If you like my smutty nasty ramblings, add yourself to my taglist here! xoxo
@hailmaryyramliah @s-unflowxr @luxeavenger @mimilh @anakinsskygirl @katelyneann @marvelfansworld @babydaddy-buckybarnes@excellentbecca @kennaskye1 @kmuir1 @spnqueen02 @abilouuxx @s-unflow-r @crybaby-mckay @babydaddy-buckybarnes @vinniesgf @hermione-grangers-wife @keeleyrose2003 @fulltrashblaze @sableseb @dreamlessinparis @doasyoudesireandlive @old-enough-to-know-better73 @lexi5678900 @stucky-my-ship @thefanbasewhore
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Guys My Age
Summary: Y/N is the newest addition to the BAU team and Spencer appears to have taken a special liking towards her. The only problem is, he thinks he’s too old for her. However, that’s all about to change when they share a hotel room.
(A/N: I’m such a sucker for the hotel room trope so I combined it with two of my other favourite ideas: Spencer being older than the reader and catching her doing yoga)
Type: fluff + a sexual innuendo or two
Warnings: dirty thoughts, insecurity about age, age gap, anxiety, yoga?
Word Count: 2.1K
Spencer Reid’s POV
I pulled the handle of my satchel over my shoulder as I sighed. It was a very long day in a small rural town somewhere deep in Alabama. Everyone else had gone back to their hotel room, besides Hotch and I. There was just something about this case I couldn’t get out of my mind. The feeling of being so close to the final piece of the puzzle, as if it were on the tip of my tongue but I couldn’t grip it. Yet I had to let it go for the night and get some rest. The much needed REM sleep could give me an entirely new perspective on this problem to me tomorrow. At least that’s what I hoped.
On the walk to the hotel room I was getting increasingly nervous, the more rooms I passed in the hallway. This small hotel did not have enough rooms to accommodate the whole team separately. They only had four rooms for the seven of us. JJ and Emily had immediately paired up, just like Rossi and Morgan. And Hotch being the team leader took the single room. Leaving me with our newest and youngest member, Y/N.
It’s not like I didn’t like her. That’s not what it was at all. Just, she made me a little bit nervous. She was so beautiful that sometimes I couldn’t get out any words around her. And that says a lot because I always have something to say. But as cheesy as it sounds, in some moments there is not a single fact that I can recall.
But the elephant in the room demands to be heard. She is younger than I am. And that by a lot. By exactly ten years and three months. That appears to be a lot. I don’t really know why, but that bothers me. We are both adults, but because of social conventions at our age, I feel as though it is inappropriate. Yet if I were 60 and she were 50 or I was 80 and she was 70, no one would even blink at the gap. Yet because we are young it matters. I feel sad when I think about it because I like her a lot. And when we talk I don’t notice the age gap. In fact, I’d even go so far as to say that it wasn’t even there at all.
What surprised me as I was having these thoughts and neared the room was the fact that I actually considered asking her out. Since Maeve I have not been on a single date. And who said she would even be interested in anything beyond a casual friendship or even colleagueship with me? That’s not even considering the amount of courage it would require for me to tell her. But it’s not like that would be a fruitful endeavour.
And that was the last thought I had before I reached the door to room 179. A prime number. Prime numbers would be my lucky numbers if there were such a thing.
As I rummaged around my pockets and satchel for the key card I noticed the sound of music coming through the door.
“Gotta thank him he’s the reason
That I’ll find what I’m looking for.”
I heard a woman sing over the sound of an electric guitar. I still hadn’t found my key card.
“Guys my age don't know how to treat me
Don't know how to treat me.”
My movements stopped when my brain registered the lyrics. Guys my age…?
“Guys my age don't know how to touch me
Don't know how to love me good.”
My breath hitched and I gulped, key card in hand. Did she mean that? Could it be possible that she would be interested in someone ten years older than her? The feeling of hope was beginning to form in my brain, scenarios of what could be clouding my vision. But they were quickly pushed aside by a dark storm of self-doubt. Because most people don’t listen to lyrics as closely. The lyrics to a song don’t mean anything to them. Did they mean anything to her?
I realised I had been standing in front of the door for way too long and gathered all my confidence to go inside. But nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to see. After closing the door behind me and tucking away the key card into my bag I turned around for the first time.￼
There she was. In the middle of the room in front of the two twin beds on a yoga mat. Her front leg was bent as she stretched her back. She was only dressed in skin tight pants and a matching bra that complimented the way her body was contorted. The soft light from the night lamp next to one of the beds made her skin glisten just noticeably as if it were glowing. I could feel my eyes widen as I my brain finally added up the pieces of what I was seeing.
“Oh, hi Spence!” she said gleefully turning her head towards mine, “I was feeling a little tense after sitting in that conference room all day. I hope you don’t mind.”
I didn’t even bother to attempt to talk, I could feel how dry my throat was and how my lips would not listen to any command I would’ve given it. So I just shook my head and pulled my eyes away from her as she moved her upper body towards the floor, holding herself up by her ellbows. I walked towards the beds in her general direction trying not to notice how gorgeous her ass looked now that her body was turned away from me. That I even had that thought surprised me and caused a blush to rise to my cheeks. I was thankful that she couldn’t see my face in that moment as I loosened up my tie. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, my attention drifted back to the song.
“Don't know how to love me good
So I'm never going back”
There was nothing in that moment that could keep me sane. My wildest dreams could have not come up with this scenario. It felt utterly unreal.
As the song ended I saw her change positions again from my peripheral vision.
“You’re awfully quiet today,” she said while turning the music down.
I noticed panic begin to fill my brain. She wanted to have a conversation.
“I um- it’s been kind of a long day,” I said and cleared my throat, while deciding whether or not it would be a good idea to turn around towards her.
“Have you been at the station the whole time? You must be exhausted,” she responded and continued when I didn’t answer, “I thought you could show me that show you’ve been gushing about.”
How was this real life? My brain began to lose control of my executive functions as my body turned around to face her. She was now sitting on the floor, legs stretched out in front of her, her hands wrapped around her feet as she looked up at me. The low-cut top she was wearing gave me a perfect sight into the curves of her-
I dared not continue that line of thought, already flustered enough as it is.
“Really? You’d be interested in watching that?” I said and blinked.
Her lips spread into a smile, twinkling her eyes, “Yeah, of course. The way you described it makes me really curious.”
“We could watch an episode or two before going to sleep, if you want.”
I just had to take this chance. Even if I could only begin to have a friendship with her, I wanted to be close to her because for some odd reason, I couldn’t bear to admire her from afar.
So not long after, I was setting up the odd hotel room tv to watch the show. It took me the entirety of her taking a shower so that I was only standing back up when she was walking out of the small bathroom in a white bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her head. She smiled up at me as she walked past me, her hand brushing my arm so casually that I questioned whether it actually happened.
I hesitated again before sitting down on the bed. Was she going to get dressed in front of me? Because no matter how much my amygdala wanted me to see that, my frontal cortex wasn’t going to allow it. I forced myself to look through my satchel in an attempt to find a distraction as I waited for her next move. But luckily, she didn’t tempt my brain too much into overdrive.
I felt as if there was a higher power not willing to spare me for the night when she came out of the bathroom a second time, now something someone might call dressed. She was in a loose light coloured satin pyjama set that showed off her legs perfectly. And as if that were not enough to torture me for the night, she joined me on my twin bed with her bag of chips.
“I hope that’s okay with you, then we can share snacks,” she said so innocently that I almost believed it. But I could still hear the song ringing in my ears and I noticed her eyes take a short glance down at my lips as she said it. I was almost convinced that I wasn’t imagining things.
What really sealed the deal was that I noticed her scoot a tiny bit closer to me every once in a while. At first I could only feel the warmth she radiated, but after about 30 minutes I felt the bare skin of her arm against mine. My breath quickened, which I was sure she had noticed.
I knew the episode off by heart. Which was to my advantage because then my brain could run in a speed that I could barely follow. I tried my hardest to calm down a little bit, which was hard when I could feel the movement of her body as a whole-hearted laugh filled her throat.
“Y/N,” I whispered with all my courage. It was so low that I almost thought she wouldn’t hear it, but she turned her head towards me her eyes following a few seconds after.
Her eyes met mine and it was like I could feel my neurons firing electrical signals throughout my entire body. And just like that, in one swift movement she had grabbed my face by the back of my head and pulled me into her lips.
That was the first time that night that my muscles began to relax as I eased into the sensation of her soft lips moving against mine. It was as though I was beginning to lose myself in the kiss, all insecurities about her feelings towards me or my inexperience gone.
When she ultimately pulled away and rested her forehead against mine, we were both panting gently. My whole body felt warm with the feeling of her breath on my skin and her hands still in my hair. I didn’t dare open my eyes, still afraid that I would wake up from this idyllical dream.
We both didn’t know what to say as we pulled away further and looked at each other. I wanted to say something, to let her know how I felt, but once again, my brain did not follow my commands.
“Did you know when you kiss someone for the first time it causes your dopamine levels to increase for a short period of time? It also makes your heart rate and the oxygen supply to your brain to raise,” I heard my voice say in something between a whisper and my normal talking voice.
“For the first time, huh?” she grinned a little at me.
I reached for her hand and gently took it in mine. I moved her palm over my shirt to the centre of my chest. I could feel my heart race through her hands and I know she could feel it too. She looked up into my eyes again with a look on her face that told me all I needed to know.
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Shows to watch during the Owl House Haitus!
We don’t know how long until season 2 of The Owl House premieres, but until then I know a lot of you guys need new shows to watch. So here are my suggestions!
*Disclaimer* I am only suggesting shows that I have watched. So there might be a few shows that I don’t suggest, purely because I haven’t seen them.
If you watched the show because you lacked proper LGBT representation as a child then try...
Steven Universe: This show has a wide array of LGBT characters and a complex story to boot. This show ends up having a lesbian wedding! Also multiple Non-binary characters! Plus it’s songs are straight bops.
Legend Of Korra: This show was one of the first instances of LGBT representation! While, compared to shows now, the representation is watered-down, it’s still a great show about a strong bisexual woman.
She-ra and the Princess of Power: This show has gotten some flack due to the POC representation ((As it should)) Though it is a kids show that made leaps and bounds when it comes to WLW representation in media. So while I can suggest this show, I also suggest that you do research on some of comments made by the creators.
If you heard Dana talk about Hieronymus Bosch and came running then try...
Scooby-Doo Mystery Incorprated: This show was fire! It wasn’t afraid to go dark on you, and it always had a good suspense too it. It was a unique twist on very well-known characters and diverted from the source material in all the right ways.
Welcome to Nightvale: This isn’t a cartoon, it’s a podcast, but I swear this thing is like if a Bosch painting came to life. It’s story is very sprinkled throughout the series so it’s good for a casual listen or an intense binge.
Over the Garden Wall: This thing is short but it’s so good! It’s just the right level of creepy. This thing doesn’t just play with the horror genre, it fricking juggles it and masters it. This show is honestly scarier than most horror movies, and yet they accomplish all this while keeping a PG rating.
Gravity Falls: Dana was originally on the crew for this show, and it makes sense. Both have similarities but Gravity Falls likes to keep it’s weird and strange as more of a constant background element, rather than in your face 24/7. Still, it’s a show that I don’t think any owl house fan would truly dislike.
If you came because you wanted to see a show where a girl got trapped in a unknown world then try...
Infinity Train: This show has people trapped on a magical train. This show is an expert at giving you -just- enough information. It gets to a point where, in the span of an hour, you get lost in the world with these characters.
Kipo Age of the Wonderbeast: This show is less magical and more sci-fi. It has a very unique take on the ‘lost in the magical world’ genre and all the characters are lovable. Also, the sound track for this show slaps, seriously I would watch this show just for the music alone.
Amphibia: This show’s plot moves at around the same pace as the Owl House, maybe even a bit slower. It’s an easy watch even though it’s very obvious that there is a bigger story a foot. Also it’s just straight up hilarious.
If you watched cause someone told you S2 might be toppling some governments then try...
Avatar The Last Airbender: This shows whole plot is getting a 12 year old boy to dismantle a 100 year old dictatorship so if that doesn’t get you interested then I don’t know what will.
Young Justice: While governments are never toppled, they are heavily critiqued. This show explores themes that aren’t typically explored in children’s shows, and honestly it’s a refreshing take on the superhero genre.
That’s all my suggestions. If you have any suggestions then don’t be afraid to add on.
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The Rulebook (1) II jjk (m)
Pairing: Jungkook X oc (fem) -- other members appear throughout
Genre: friends-to-lovers, college!au, softfuckboy!jk, fuckgirl!oc, fraternity!au, eventual smut
Summary: Despite being the notorious fuck girl on campus, you have morals and values that you stick to with a solid set of rules. One of your rules excludes Golden Boy, Jungkook, from ever getting a chance with you, much to both of your dismay. And he intends to change that, with one really irresistible bet.
Warnings: Language, college-age drinking, weed smoking, non descriptive depictions of sex, OC is a repressed idiot, Jungkook is out here really trying to keep his cool, some may think Jungkook is pushing boundaries but you’ll get it once you read (hopefully)
AN: I’ve been thinking about this one for a long time, so I’m a bit nervous about this fic. I personally love college!aus and am glad that I have finally written one. Please let me know what you think.
One II Two II Three II Four II Five II Six II Seven
The noises that come from the last studio on the right echo through the basement of the art building are hard not to recognize. There are clanging materials, banging, and loud human noises. The icing on the cake is that you walked into the building, and everyone knows that you have no business in the art building. You’d only come in for one thing, and one thing only.
And that thing today is Cha Eunwoo. The hearthrob of the art department has an angelic face, dreamy eyes, and a small sketchbook in his hand all the time. You share your sensory psychology elective with him, and since the start of the semester, it seems like he’s been bumping into you more. He shows up during your shifts at the library, and he even showed up to your family’s frat at the beginning of the semester, and maybe gave you a few compliments about how your drinking flush reminds him of the sunset. It’s corny but you’re not hard to please.
So when Eunwoo comes up to you after lecture last week, he lets you know that he needs a model for his sketch class. He compliments your jaw line and angles. You’re a simple girl, so you say yes in an exchange for coffee. You show up to his scheduled studio today, just thirty minutes ago, and you smile as he greets you. Once you settle in with a short tour of the studio that you’ve never stepped inside before, he instructs you to pick a position that you can stand for a long time. When you smile at him and remind him that you’re flexible, it’s all over from there.
Currently, he lets out hot pants against your neck. Your arms tremble from holding yourself up for so long. He came long and hard. You came, kind of? He looks at you like a man gazing upon Aphrodite. You look at him like a midnight snack — good but not necessary. It’s no offense to him, it’s just how you operate.
When Eunwoo pulls out of you, your legs drop from his waist. You shake your arms, trying to dull the pain from holding yourself up on the easel. At least now you get to check easel sex off your bucket list.
Eunwoo presses a kiss to your cheek before saying, “You’re a muse.”
“I do what I can to help aspiring artists,” you shrug with a smirk.
“Truly,” he smiles as he pulls the condom off and tosses it in the garbage bin. He gives you a look, one you’ve seen before in other guys’ eyes. It looks an awful lot like hope. “Maybe we can do it again some time.”
There it is. The dreaded question. You’ve been asked this question plenty of times, so you should’ve developed some numbness to it now. But it somehow always leaves you with an aching feeling in your chest. It sucks because no matter how many accurate stories spread, sometimes each guy thinks they’ll get a different answer.
“You know I don’t really do that,” you say softly as you shimmy your shorts back on.
“Ah,” Eunwoo lets out, face falling flat. “Right, I have.”
“It’s not you,” you blurt out. “It’s me… I just have rules about it.” There’s no point in trying to rub the wound with salt, but for some reason, you always do.
“Yeah, I heard about it. I get it.”
You consider trying to explain yourself further but there’s no need. He probably knows that there is no point in trying to push it. He’s probably fed up, but at least, he’s not asking questions like, Why are you already denying the opportunity? Was it bad? Why’re you such a snob?
You just have rules. And rule number 2 is never have sex with same person twice.
Once your clothes are on, you thank Eunwoo for the matcha and the good time. “If you ever do need a model again, I got you though.”
“I actually do,” laughs Eunwoo as he buttons his shirt. He winks. “Meant what I said about a good jawline. I’ll text you.”
You smile before leaving. “Okay.” Hopefully, he really does get it. But it’s not your responsibility to take care of boys’ feelings.
With an hour before your shift at the library, you decide to follow your stomach’s demanding growl. You’ll need to eat before your night shift campus job otherwise you’d never be able to focus on the dewey decibel system. Luckily, one of the dining halls is right across from the library so it would be a quick trip.
The moment you enter the glass building, you relish the scent of cheesy goodness from the brick over pizza line. It’s longer than you’d like but you can double fist two slices on your way if needed. But the decision between pepperoni, plain, Margherita, and veggie weighs on you. Meat sounds great, but it’s already nearly eight — will it still be good? Or would the veggies be soggy-
“Dr Evil,” a deep voice calls, pulling you out of your internal cheese dilemma.
There’s no need to turn your head because that’s the voice you grew up with all your life. You know it as well as you know your own. Your twin brother Taehyung has a deep baritone voice that pinpoints him out in a crowd. He’s famous on campus for more than just his voice. And besides the fact that he’s a Kim.
“Wannabe Austin Powers,” you reply with a smirk.
As usual, Taehyung’s fit stands out too. He’s in a Gucci paisley shirt, dark jeans, and gentle monster sunglasses, despite being indoors during the evening. One of his sugar parents probably bought him the entire outfit. He looks you up and down once. You’re nowhere near as fashionable as your brother, as you stand before him in a stolen Beta Tau sweatshirt and a pair of biker shorts.
“Did you just have sex?” He asks shortly.
“Is it obvious?” You sniff your sweater for confirmation.
“No, it’s your hair,” he points. “Looks like a rat’s nest.”
Your hands fly to your hair. “It’s a messy bun, you plebeian.”
“You’re not cool enough to pull off an actual messy bun.” You suck your teeth at him and before you can come up with a retort, he asks casually, “Who’d you sleep with?”
“I’m not telling you,” you reply, flat faced.
“I need to know so that I don’t try to sleep with him.”
“Ha, you wish you could sleep with him.”
“You know I could. And I’m trying to avoid twincest.”
“A - gross. B- that’s not even what twincest is.”
“I’ll give you pizza if you tell me.” He gives you a big boxy smile that works on your parents, your friends, and literally anyone ever. Charm runs in your family, and Taehyung isn’t afraid to use it.
“I’m getting my own,” you shrug him off.
Tae points down the line. “They only have enough for the first few people. You won’t make it in time.”
You look down the line and pout. Cheese. The other options like salad and sushi don’t appeal the same way that hot cheese does. Ugh, this is just awful.
But Taehyung pulls your sleeve before you make a decision. He knows that would take forever. “Come on, I got some.” He pulls you through the cafeteria and towards the back where he sits with a bunch of his fraternity brothers and your family members.
“Hi, ____,” Jimin smiles. He’s a junior like you, and a boy that’s just too good for this world. He has a smile that brightens any dairy-free day.
Beside him are your cousins. The Kims have a long legacy at Beta Tau Sigma, and are renowned for being the fuckboys on the campus. Jin, the campus-wide prince, is known for his dad jokes and being the picture perfect boyfriend who will take you on well-manicured dates and bring your flowers. Little do you know that when things get just one step too serious, he’ll ghost you and say that he’s not ready.
Next to him is your other cousin, Namjoon. While Jin goes for students, Namjoon has quite the reputation of hooking up with professors, single moms in the college town, and international students. He wins hearts with intelligence and tightly formulated debates that boil blood and wet panties.
Taehyung is more of an enigma - he doesn’t have preferences. If Taehyung wants to have sex with you, there is a 95% chance he get what he wants. If he decides to hook up with you for a while, then so be it. If he decides that he’s done, he’s done. No pattern, no style. Just Taehyung.
Each Kim has their own niche that they cater to, which has made your family quite famous. And you and your rulebook are included. It has also made you an honorary member of BTS in some ways -- skip-the-line access to parties and free booze. In return, you offer wingman skills and listen to the boys complain about whatever they may need.
And across from Namjoon is a boy who may need too much from you, though he never says it. It’s Golden Boy, Jeon Jungkook.
You don’t have a type, because you find them limiting for your one night stand excursions. But, if you did, it’d be this kid. He’s perfect at everything he tries, has a gorgeous face made directly in God’s personal laboratory, and can actually take a joke. Although he’s on the quieter side, he gets along with nearly everyone. People fall head over heels for the kid, and unfortunately, you’re not immune to his big smile and silly antics. He’ll even follow through on crazy bets. He dyed his hair blue last week because he lost a beer pong bet with Hoseok. Some guys have too much pride to do impulsive shit like that. You love bets.
Too bad Jungkook is off limits. Otherwise you would’ve made him your bitch.
“Look,” Taehyung says, plopping down across from Jimin. You’re left to sit in between him and Jungkook, which is just not good for your heart rate. Your brother points to Jungkook’s plate and says, “Pizza.”
“Wow, you didn’t even offer me your own,” you grumble as you plop down. Before you reach out to Jungkook’s plate, he slides his plate away.
Jungkook tuts. “Nah, you’re cute, but I’m hungry today.”
“Awe come on, Jeon,” you pout, knowing he loves your lips, “I got a midnight shift tonight. I’m dying here.”
“And I have to finish an essay for my film history class by midnight,” he counters as he takes a big bite, right in front of your face. “I need sustenance. I’m a growing boy.”
“If you grow anymore,” Jin frowns, “then we’re all going to die. You’re not allowed to punch me anymore.”
“Yeah, bro, can you stop going to the gym for a week to let us catch up,” Jimin agrees with an infectious laugh.
Jungkook scoffs. With his distraction, you reach out for his pizza again. But the black belt and boxing champ lean back. You make a whining noise. “Just a bite?” You ask with big eyes.
“You are cute when you beg,” he smirks. He passes it to you. “Fine.”
You make a kissy face at him before taking a bite into his pizza. You relish the flavor and snuggle further into your chair.
“Can you two just sleep together already?” Namjoon asks, looking at you two in disgust.
You shake your head but focus on the pizza.
“____ knows I’ve been down for it, but hey, rule number 7 still applies,” Jungkook shrugs as he opens his box of pocky. You nod in agreement as you catch some falling cheese.
Namjoon sighs. “Your self-imposed restrictions for sex are going to be your own downfall.”
“I’d be complete chaos without them,” you argue amicably, wiping your mouth with a napkin stolen from Taehyung. “You guys would have to do so much damage control.”
“We deal with Taehyung,” Jin points.
“But two of us?” You set down your slice on Jungkook’s plate. “I like my rules, guys. They’ve been working for me the past two years. They keep me in order and keep things as tidy as possible.”
Jungkook opens his mouth but shuts it. He just rests his elbow against the table and drops his chin into his hand, looking outside.
“Guys, leave ____ alone,” Jimin insists. “She’s not going to change unless somehow her rulebook changes. Leave it alone.”
Your cousins and friends return to a heated discussion of Attack On Titan and the overall question of who is going to kill Eren: Mikasa or Levi? The debate allows you to focus on the pizza and Namjoon’s chips as you already know the answer since you read the manga. In the corner of your eye, you notice Jungkook’s quietness -- it’s palpable as he bores laser into the side of your head. Your eyes dart over to him and you catch his stare. Not that he’s trying to hide it. It makes your face heat.
“What?” You ask lowly.
“You just had sex, didn’t you?” He asks, just as quiet and calm.
“Is it obvious?” Your hands fly to your hair.
“Munchies,” he laughs. “It’s either that or you just smoked a ton of weed, and you don’t smell like your brother.”
You pat your hair. “I guess I should be honored that Golden Boy Jeon pays so much attention to me.”
“You know I do.”
This is true. Despite being friends with him, you know that Jungkook would also be down to jump your bones in a heartbeat. Since the moment he laid eyes on you, he made it clear as day that he found you attractive. But you are the one that kept him at arm’s length and friend zoned him, because of stupid rule 7.
Rule 7: Never have sex with BTS boys.
The rules started up in college, and maybe if Jungkook had entered the same year as you, instead of him coming in as a transfer, you would have made an exception. The rules were just forming back then. But you met him last year, after clearly establishing the perfect set of rules for meaningless sex. You can’t go back on them now.
“So,” he asks after a moment, pulling you off of memory lane. “Who was it?” He asks with a smirk.
“God, not you too.”
“Just curious who the lucky guy is,” Jungkook says, putting his hands up.
“Yo,” Taehyung says leaning forward, resting his chin on your shoulder. He turns his head to face yours. “Are you seriously telling him and not me? I gave you pizza!”
You smush your brother’s face. “No, he did, not you.”
Through your spread fingers, Taehyung grumbles. “Semantics. Spill, Sister of Mine.”
“What if I value my privacy and my partner’s confidentiality?” You shoot back.
Jungkook lets out a short laugh. “Come on, ____. If you really valued that, you wouldn’t have had sex on the roof with Moonbin last semester.”
You glare at him for daring to bring that up. You reach out for Namjoon’s soda.
“What’s going on?” Namjoon asks curiously, swatting your hand away from his fizzy unknown beverage.
“Trying to figure out who ____ had sex with just now.” Taehyung answers.
“Just now?” Namjoon repeats. He glares at you as your fingers inch forward for his soda. He retracts it and gives you a disgusted look, like you’re a cockroach instead of his cousin, “Out of your damn mind. Don’t know where your mouth has been.”
“You guys are so annoying!” You hiss, pushing Tae’s face off your shoulder. “Fine. Anyway, it’s rule number 8 that we don’t sleep with the same people. It was Eunwoo.”
Jin’s face perks up. “Eunwoo? Jung Eunwoo from PST?”
Jimin lets out a bark of a laugh. “Nah, ___ is too straight.”
“Cha Eunwoo,” you finish.
The boys blink at you.
“Good for you,” Jin nods. “He’s handsome.”
“That’s quite a compliment coming from you.”
“Professors think so too,” Namjoon adds. He would know. You often wonder what professor pillow talk would be like. You have rule number 9 though -- no sleeping with university professors.
The interest in your sex life dies down and re-focuses onto Namjoon’s latest hook up with Philosphy professor. As Namjoon recounts the night in as little detail as possible, Jungkook keeps staring at you. He doesn’t say anything this time, but you’re pretty sure he’s thinking about you.
In the beginning, you thought of yourself as mean for getting close to Jungkook as friends. Some guys didn’t appreciate the friend zone but Jungkook really doesn’t seem to care. He’d still hook up with other girls and even go on a few dates. It’s not like he was waiting for you.
The clock ticks 7:45PM, and that’s when you decide to head over to the Library. You gather your books in your arms and stand up. “Gotta go, Guys. Library shift.”
“You coming to Poker on Friday?” Jin asks.
“Sure, got to keep you broke,” you smile widely.
“That was the most bullshit hand I’ve ever seen!” Jin retorts. “Who the fuck plays a 6-9 off suit.”
Jungkook stands up as the boys laugh. “I’ll come with,” he says, slinging his backpack of his shoulder. “Paper. See you at the house.”
Jungkook follows you towards the cafeteria exit. “You want coffee?” He asks. “I owe you for the movies last week.”
The image of Jungkook’s pouty face when he realized he left his wallet at home was maybe the most precious thing you’ve ever seen. The poor boy couldn’t stand to watch a movie without snacks, so you offered to buy him his little popcorn-soda-candy set. Seeing his face light up warmed the cockles of your heart.
“Sure, thanks,” you nod. He knows that caffeine is your only weakness -- that and orgasms.
You wait by the exit as Jungkook pays for the coffee. He returns with a piping hot large and announces, “Vanilla latte with oatmilk, M’lady.”
“Atta boy,” you smile before taking a large swig. “Thank you,” you sigh as he holds the door open for you.
The night air brushes against your skin, crisp and light. The light of the moon shone on you and Jungkook meander through the street lamp lit way. It’s a peaceful night, still on your endorphin high from your time with Eunwoo and enjoying the stimulation from the caffeine. Jungkook is quiet, but it’s nice. You never thought it would be so nice to be alone with someone.
“You know, ____, we’d be great,” Jungkook says, breaking the silence.
You let out an exasperated sigh. “I was just thinking how nice and quiet this was.”
“I’m not saying anything new. You know I’m into you,” Jungkook says casually, as if commenting on semesterly courses.
“I wish you were saying something new.”
“In all this time, you’ve never once said that you don’t want to sleep with me back. If you don’t want to be with me, just say so.”
Your eyes narrow. “Is it that simple?”
You want to say no, but that wouldn’t be the truth. And you’re a shit liar. Your mouth just can’t formulate the lie that would end all the tension between you two But truthfully you don’t want it to end.
“I wish it were,” you murmur before taking another sip.
“Yeah instead you go for subpar one night stands and create a NDA for each and every hook up,” he smirks.
“Eunwoo was not subpar.”
“You know what I mean.”
You turn to Jungkook, hands clutching your books. “Aren't you tired of this? Me rejecting you.”
“Is that what you’re doing? Because I haven’t heard you say yes or no. I want a shot or a shot down, ____.”
“It would be too complicated, Jungkook,” you groan, lolling your head back. “You know that.”
“I know that you think us sleeping together would cause catastrophe in your perfect little rulebook, but in reality, you don’t know that.”
“It’s messy! You live across the door from my family members.”
“Do you think I’d hurt you?”
“No, I think I’d hurt you.”
Jungkook tongues the inside of his cheek. “I’m not as easy to hurt as you’d think.”
You roll your eyes. “You cry when you watch Moana.”
“Her grandma’s death is tragic!”
You laugh at the memory of Jungkook yeeting his tears to the side so that no one would see. It was so cute that you just had to sear that image into your brain forever. If you had slept with Jungkook, that memory would’ve never happened. It would be too weird to be with him as a friend if you had crossed that line. You like your chances as friends more than the chance of ruining it with something as simple as sex.
“Don’t you miss it?” He asks, stopping your spiral.
You blink. “Intimacy?” The word rolls off your tongue like it’s foreign.
“Yeah, dude. Like, the learning part of sex?”
“You think I lack intimacy?”
“Enlighten me, Dr. Phil.”
Jungkook exhales. “There is absolutely no way that you can have intimacy with a rulebook. You don’t even have sex with people twice. I genuinely don’t believe that you can learn or other guys can learn what you like in one night. I’m good, but not even I’m that good.”
“Eunwoo was pretty good,” You shrug. It’s a below the belt hit but you hope that it will halt this conversation ASAP.
“Maybe,” Jungkook shrugs, “but he could probably be great if you let him learn what you really like.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, hard. You’ve had good orgasms, shit, even great ones. And you’ve had some really unfortunate and uninteresting nights with people whom you would never wish to look in the eyes again. The good times didn’t outweigh the bad, but you didn’t want to take the chance. You like sex as a sport, or a business meeting. Two people come together and negotiate serotonin. The end.
“You’re not going to change my mind.”
“Princess, don’t I know,” he laughs. Even when he’s fighting an uphill battle, Jungkook takes it like a champ. “Let me know when you’re looking for something real.”
“Let me know when you’re done chasing after me.”
Jungkook is about to shoot you down again, but instead you hear him let out a quiet “oh fuck.”
Before you can turn to ask him what happened, Jungkook pulls you. He tries to hide himself and you behind one of the pillars holding up the awning of the library entrance. “What happened?” You ask.
“It’s Tzuyu…” Jungkook murmurs quietly, his voice falling flat.
You peer past the pillar and see Tzuyu exiting the building with her sorority sisters, Jungyeon and Chaeyoung. All three girls are dressed like the trio from Clueless, looking absolutely sweet as can be. It baffles you that Jungkook would have a problem with anyone. But by Jungkook’s tense figure, you can sense something is off with him and her. It doesn’t take much for you to put two and two together. “You slept with Tzuyu? Atta boy!” You say, patting him on the head.
“It was just once during orientation week,” Jungkook clarifies, not looking at you. He’s too focused on keeping an eye on Tzuyu’s movements. “I shouldn’t have done it. I know she’s not the sleeping around type, but I was high. I knew she would be the type to want more.”
You chuckle. “I’m pretty sure NDAs seem pretty solid right about now.”
“Yeah, yeah, rub it in.”
“Can’t believe you don’t want to sleep with her again?” You ask shortly. “She’s the prettiest girl on campus!”
“I’m pretty sure Cha Eunwoo is the prettiest boy on campus, but are you going to break rule number 2?” He retorts. “Nope.”
“We’re talking about you here, not me. My rules never make me run away.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“Jungkook,” you say firmly. You slap the concrete in front of you. “We’re hiding behind a pillar. This is bullshit.”
He laughs but that stops short. “Oh, fuck. Jungyeon saw me.”
You look back and see Jungyeon’s face grows with irritation. Your gaze stares back at Jungkook, who’s planning his escape. You watch him consider his options — running behind the building or running behind the trees. But both would lead him to get caught, and nothing is worse than running for no reason.
You could help him, and that dumb distraught look on his face is just too cute. Also, this wouldn’t break any of your rules.
“You owe me, Jeon.”
“Huh? I paid for your coffee -“
Before he can say anymore, you pull Jungkook close by the collar of his hoodie. Your lips press against his, and that’s that. It’s a bad idea, but you’re known for those.
Jungkook blinks as his brain begins to register how soft your lips feel against his. It’s happening right before him, something he imagined a hundred times over since he met you. You’re kissing him, and all to help him avoid a girl that he doesn’t want to lead on. You’re really something else. But he might as well enjoy it while it lasts.
Jungkook wastes no time in letting his hands fall to your hips. He pulls you in closer so that his hand can fall to your tight ass, giving it a squeeze. You gasp at the feeling, and he snickers into the kiss. He takes the opportunity to let his tongue slide into your mouth, and God, do you taste good. Rainwater and dark chocolate. He has to ingrain it in his memory.
It’s surprising how you waited this long to kiss Jungkook, especially since nowhere in your guide to sex does it exclude this activity. Just like his attitude, he’s so straight forward and confident, but also sweet. He holds you tight and takes charge in exploring your mouth. Swapping spit has never felt natural. You could do this forever.
But reality seeps in when you hear gasps coming from the pavilion. Your first instinct is to look but Jungkook’s large tatted hand comes up to hold your face in place. Your eyes open, just barely, and past his full nose, you see two girls patting the head of the tallest in the middle. They run off. The coast is clear, but you close your eyes for just one more second. Breathing him into your lungs and soul. Relishing it while you can. With your lips preoccupied, you can’t let the truth out: you wanted this for a long time.
You pull back from Jungkook before you get carried away. You bite your lip at the sight of his plump lips and eyelashes blinking open. He sucks in a breath at you too. “You’re trouble,” he mumbles.
Suddenly it becomes hard to look him in the eye. “That’s no way to thank me for preventing Jungyeon from roasting you in public,” you murmur as you tuck a loose strand behind your ear. “She’d tear your head off.”
Jungkook pauses. It looks like he wants to say something else but he ends up saying, “Thanks, Kim #3.”
You let out a short laugh as you turn your back on him. “You gotta stop calling me that.”
Jungkook laughs as he puts an arm around your shoulder as you enter the library. Maybe on another day, you’d object to his touch. But, you’ll keep up the facade for his sake — it’s a firm and steady weight. It’s quite relaxing actually, easing your racing heart.
A few people watch as you and Jungkook enter. The two of you veer right where two lines of tables sit in the middle of the floor, right in front of the main desks. Just as you’re about to shrug his arm off, Jungkook’s hand slides down your back and gives it a soft squeeze. You punch him in the arm and he lets out an obnoxiously high pitched laugh.
The other librarian on duty so happens to be your roommate, Mina, and the dreamy girl looks oddly focused on you. Her eyes flit between you and Jungkook, who takes his usual seat (third table on the left, facing the librarian’s desks), and she looks like a fish out of water.
“Don't speak,” you warn as you set down your backpack on the desk next to hers.
“Jungkook smacked your ass,” she says simply. “He walked in with his arm around you. You look like you just had sex.”
Mina lets out a soul stealing gasp.
“With Cha Eunwoo.”
Mina blinks a few times, like a newborn puppy seeing light for the first time. “We’re going to circle back to that, in just a moment,” she says, swinging her finger. “But, I also heard that a few people saw you and Jungkook making out before coming in.”
If the news is already spreading, then Tzuyu will probably stay away from Jungkook. Not that you care, but it’ll help Jungkook out. That’s good, it’s the reason why you kissed the idiot in the first place. Or that’s what you’re going to tell yourself.
“People really like to talk,” you sigh.
“You’re not denying it,” Mina mumbles. Her eyes peek back to Jungkook and she sucks her teeth. “And he’s staring at you.”
“He always stares.”
“No, _____. He’s really staring at you, like he’s looking for your soul. Awe, that’s kind of cute.” Her voice shifts from intense to super sweet in a split second.
The smarter part of you says to keep concentrating on unpacking your psychology textbooks, but the weaker part (and the stronger part) forces you to look up. Mina isn’t wrong. Jungkook is staring at you. His eyes bore into yours, and you feel heat rising from your toes up to your face. He doesn’t look away or smile like he usually does. No, he’s figuring something out, putting pieces together like you’re a puzzle. After a year of pushing the film major away, you let him in.
You probably made a huge mistake for your rulebook.
You won’t realize what a huge mistake you made until two days after. On your Wednesday library shift, you see a sophomore that you’ve been keeping tabs on for a while now. Sanha is a cute thing with a small face and baby doe eyes. You have stats with him, and he sometimes asks you for help. You’d expect to have an easy in with him, just like Eunwoo. Just like most guys.
Because most guys don’t really give a shit that you like to sleep around. Gen Z could care less about numbers, as long as you aren’t trying to pass around STIs or secretly get pregnant. If people are looking to get fucked, so be it. It’s not that complicated.
When you accidently bump into him in the stacks during your break, Sanha waves and greets you like you’d expect. You ask him about the upcoming exam, which he is obviously nervous about because the boy just cannot wrap his head around confidence levels. In your graciousness, you offer to tutor him. At first, he seems delighted by your soft smile and your hand on his arm. You’re pretty, no one can deny that. And the rumor mill is in your favor because you do have A+ head game.
But then his face drops. Sanha bites the inside of his cheek before saying no. You just say it’s tutoring, and that you’d like to help if he wants it. (It’s true, you would like to help the nervous wreck, but you’d also like to sleep with him.) And then he says something that just makes you uninterested in sleeping with him. “Wait, but aren’t you seeing Jungkook?”
In just a couple of days, your reputation has turned to ash. It has burned in flames, combusted, and turned to rubble. You think it may just be Sanha, but no, apparently a lot of people are confused by your makeout with Jungkook. People think you’re sleeping together. Like regularly.
How can one make-out turn into full-blown stories? You’ve had sex with people on roofs and in studios -- how could a kiss be more interesting than your latest hook up? Fangirls come up to you before classes or during your work shifts, asking if you’re really dating Jungkook. You deny with enthusiasm, pleading the girls who have enough balls to ask you directly to let other people know. The denial of the story is apparently less interesting to the university because the rumors don’t die.
Even your brother has to ask.
The Jaws ringtone, specifically designated for Taehyung, wakes you from your three hour slumber Friday evening. You groan from underneath your covers before grabbing the contraption. Without opening your eyes, you slide it open and ask in a groggy voice, “What?”
“You fucking Jungkook?”
“Okay, cool,” Taehyung dismisses. “Not that it’s a problem for me, I’d just be mad that you didn’t tell me.”
You let out a yawn. “Of course, I’d tell you. But I’m never fucking him.”
“Nah, but you’ll make out with him apparently.”
You rub the bridge of your nose. “It was a favor,” you say through clenched teeth.
“No,” Taehyung says simply. “A favor is Jungkook giving you his pizza. Not licking his mouth with yours.”
He sighs. “I can’t wait for you to get over your denial. But until then, do you want anything from Wong’s for Poker?”
You sit up in your bed and rub your eyes. “Yeah. Hot and Sour soup.”
“Jungkook already ordered that for you. Right, Jeon?”
“Yeah.” You hear Jungkook’s voice in the background.
You click your tongue. “Did you have to call me and ask about me fucking Jungkook if you’re already with him? You live with him.”
“Yeah, but Jungkook is a liar and a fraud. And he has a hard time deciphering reality from fantasy. Anything else though? We got dumplings and fried rice for everyone.”
“Uh…” you grumble as you rub the back of her neck.
“Spring rolls?” Jungkook asks in the background.
“Yeah, get that for her,” Tae insists. “If we wait for her to choose, we’d be here until closing.”
“Hey,” you whine.
“It’s true,” Tae laughs. “Meet us at the house.”
“I know,” You yawn.
“Remember to bring Mina. Jimin wants her to play.”
“She knows,” you agree as you stretch from your slumber. “But you do know that Jimin is too good for Mina, right? The only way she’d give him attention is if he suddenly becomes a dickhead. He’ll get hurt.”
Taehyung lets out a short laugh. “He likes that shit.”
“Um, okay. Bye. I can’t do this when I’m just waking up.” You click the red button to end your ludicrous conversation with your brother. You let the phone drop. “Mina!” You shout from your bed. “Poker tonight!”
“I’m in mourning!” Mina yells from the living room.
“What does Poker have to do with mourning?” You ask, sliding out of your bed.
“The only thing I gamble is my heart.”
“Jimin wants a go at it,” you say, opening the door to the bright living room you share.
Mina is sitting on the floor with her makeup mirror on the coffee table and her clothes already on to go out. She’s wearing a black t-shirt, torn up jeans, and adding some dark eyeliner. She gives you a big grin.
“You’re going to eat poor Jimin alive, aren’t you?”
“Only if he reminds me of my ex.”
“Girl,” you mutter as you shake your head before entering back into your room.
In roughly fifteen minutes, you’ve thrown on a pair of shorts, a big flannel, and some simple base makeup on. Mina is ready by the time you’re done. She is sitting on the couch, scrolling through her ex-boyfriend’s instagram. Her eyes are hidden by her baseball cap. “Isn’t he handsome?” She shows you the picture of Mark, the boy she dumped because she loved him too much.
You don’t get it, but you don’t have to.
Mina drives you both over to the Beta Tau house after picking up chasers. It’s nice living with someone with a car since you refuse to make the executive decision to learn how to drive. In general, Mina is a good roommate despite you being complete opposites. She’s a romantic, you’re a working-nihilist. She barely attends classes, you intend on keeping your scholarship money. She has a car, you chip in for gas. It’s a symbiotic relationship.
With rush still going on, Greek row is quiet and commencing other initiating activities. BTS had nearly finished their rush and were taking a break tonight so they could actively fulfill their gambling addiction. The BTS house is at the end of Greek Row by the woods. It’s a dark purple house with four stories, and has a deck that wraps around. Mina finds a spot across the street, and you can already hear laughter and music from inside.
You knock on the door and wait for a few moments before Jin opens the door. “Pay up now.”
“My goodness,” you grumble. “Let a girl in first.”
“Nah, house money first. You can go though, Mina.”
Mina grins widely.
“Hey!” You pout, but you’re still digging in your back pocket for your cash. “Why does she get a momentary pass.”
“Because last time you played on house money until the very end,” Jin says as if it were obvious.
“You hold such a grudge,” you whine as you slap twenty dollars into your cousin’s hands.
“Runs in the family,” he smiles as he steps aside.
The moment you walk in, your senses become filled with a dizzying combination of weed and alcohol. It may not be a party night but that doesn’t stop the fraternity from indulging in age appropriate substance abuse. It’s college.
In the living room, you see Namjoon, Hosoek, and his girlfriend, Sana, sitting on the couch. Your cousin is rolling a blunt while Sana holds Hoseok’s head in her lap. You greet them.
“No poker tonight?” You ask, directing the question at Hoseok and Sana. Namjoon never plays. Despite being the smartest person at the table, he has the worst financial sense for some reason. He also nearly breaks the table every time he gets upset for losing to Jimin.
Sana shakes her head as she runs her hands through Hoseok’s hair. It looks like he’s already sleeping. “Asian flush got the best of him,” she sighs.
“Ah,” Mina lets out. “He ate shrimp dumplings instead of chicken.”
“Yup,” Sana sighs.
“Rookie mistake,” Hoseok grumbles as he curls further into Sana’s lap.
You and Mina follow Jin through the kitchen, filled with booze and take-out cartons, to the outside deck that looks out onto the woods. Since the air is still nice and warm, the boys use the deck as much as they can.
“All right, everyone is here,” Jin announces as he steps outside.
Everyone sits around a circular plastic green table with a solo cup in hand and chips dealt to each person. There is Taehyung, Jimin, a boy with blue hair, a boy with pink hair, and the boy who may ruin your entire college career. He gives you a wink.
You’ve never wanted to simultaneously hit someone and fuck them at the same time.
“Finally,” Taehyung says, lolling his head back. “Let’s make some money. Mina, sit next to our Jimin. He needs some good luck. Last time, he lost fifty dollars.”
Mina smiles. “I’m no good at gambling.”
“Can’t be worse than me,” Jimin blushes.
You decide to take a seat, far away from Jungkook despite there being one in between him and your brother. You plop beside a boy with pink hair and a boy with blue hair.
Jin, perceptive as always, rolls his eyes. “You two act like fourth graders.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” You shrug pettily. You turn to the boy with pink hair. “Hi, I’m ____.”
The boy gulps. “I-I know. I’m Yeonjun.”
“You want to be a part of this patriarchal mess?”
Yeonjun’s jaw drops. Poor thing.
“Awe come on, ___,” Jungkook laughs as he puts the joint your brother passes to his lips. “Don’t scare the rushees.”
“It’s just a question.”
Jungkook smirks and looks to Yeonjun and the blue haired boy, like a conman on the street would to an old lady. “Yeonjun, Soobin -- this is just her tactic. She tries to scare you before you even start playing so she can bluff her way into making extra money.”
You turn to the blue haired boy, Soobin. “It works on him. He likes it when people are mean to him.”
“Just you, Baby,” Jungkook smirks. He’s about to hit the joint again but Taehyung snatches it away.
“No, you may not flirt with my sister and smoke my weed. No no,” he says before taking a drag.
“Wait,” the blue haired boy says. “I thought you two were dating…”
The table falls silent, and the blue haired boy’s face may turn blue from how he’s holding in his breath. Eyes dart between you and Jungkook before Taehyung starts laughing wildly, like a hyena.
“Oh Yeonjun, yes,” Taehyung claps. “They are emotionally tied to one another - red thread and all - but will never do anything about it because my sister has the social skills of a squirrel.”
“We’re not dating,” you say clearly as Jin starts dealing out more chips to you and Mina. “Pass me the vodka.”
The blue haired boy passes the handle to you in a second. You pour yourself a heavy hand before adding some Sprite in. “Thank you,” you say graciously. You glare at Jungkook. “You must have suffered from these rumors in some way.”
Jungkook shrugs. “I really could care less. I haven’t been trying to sleep with anyone this week. Too many projects.”
You frown and open your mouth to yell at him, for this whole thing that isn't his fault, but Jin clears his throat loudly. “Okay, okay! Let’s drop this. Soobin, Yeonjun, this is ____ and she isn’t sleeping with Jungkook because she doesn’t have any sense and likes to self-destruct. This is Mina, and she’s perfectly lovely.”
Mina smiles sweetly. “Awe, Jin.”
“Okay, let’s start,” Jin claps and then rubs his hands together. “I’m Dealer.”
The game of Texas Hold’em and the drinking begins. The stakes and chip worth isn’t very high but somehow, not thirty minutes in, Jimin is down some fifteen dollars. You’ve won a few hands and have made yourself an extra five bucks (two shin ramen cups). Jin and Mina have stayed in the same range, while Jungkook is also up. Yeonjun and Soobin, blue hair, have lost some money but aren't as bad as Jimin. Taehyung is up a whopping twenty, but that’s because your brother has the straightest face in the history of Beta Tau. Completely unfazed, like the psychopath he is.
When the game is an hour in and the drinks have multiplied, the stakes move past money. Finances are fun, but so are clothes. People start upping the anti by moving to strip poker. It was harmless at first, with socks and earrings. You do shimmy off your bra from the inside, to assert dominance and win an extra ten dollars. Mina, having grown up in the dance world and acting as designated driver, is highly comfortable with her physique and makes big bets that leaves almost everyone pantless and penniless. Except you. You know Mina well enough to say that she can’t bluff for shit and folded your hand the moment she announced, “I bet pants.”
Girl wins with a four of a kind, Queens.
Clothes starting turning into dares. Poor Jimin has to do elephant turns while singing the national anthem. Yeonjun has to do a naked lap through the house. Soobin can’t make eye contact with anyone or he takes a shot. Taehyung, happily, does a body shot off of Jungkook, much to his dismay since Taehyung has shit coordination. Jin ends up calling his mother - your aunt - and leaving her a message about what a bad boy he has been during his senior year. You stayed relatively in the clear, except having “Kim #3” written on your forehead with Mina’s red lipstick.
This round may change everything. The dares are up high and the rushees are nearly passed out. Jin, Jimin, and Mina folded from the get-go, leaving you, your brother, and Jungkook left in the hand. Alcohol and confidence are highly correlated and you’re feeling good about this hand. It’s the final bet, and Taehyung has put in twenty dollars, which you and Jungkook call.
It’s your turn. The visible cards are a 6 Spades, 8 Clubs, 10 Diamonds, King Hearts, and a Queen Diamonds. You have 9 Diamonds and a Jack Diamonds, putting you on the table for a straight. There’s no opportunity for a flush, so your chances of winning are high. One of them is clearly lying.
“I bet no sex for a month,” you shrug as munch on your last spring roll.
“Fuck that,” Taehyung says immediately, setting his cards down. The awake ones laugh at his quickness. “No way in Hell.”
Jungkook sucks in a breath as he looks at his cards. He rubs his chin. “So whoever loses can’t have sex for a month?” He reiterates.
“Must be feeling pretty confident, Kim #3,” He adds, before taking a long swig of his drink.
You wink. “Gotta bet to find out, Jeon.”
Jungkook leans back into his chair and says, “I’ll do you one better. If I lose, no sex for a month, plus, I won’t make a comment about us sleeping together until the end of the semester.”
You tilt your head curiously as Mina, Jimin, and Jin let out quiet Oohs. Taehyung flicks his lighter open and lights his joint, his eyes darting between his friend and you. Even if you won’t admit out loud, Tae knows that you do have a thing for Jungkook. He knows, and you know, that you like the attention from Jungkook. Everyone likes attention, especially from a boy like him.
“Wow, self-restraint, what a concept,” you murmur sarcastically, waving your hand. “And what happens if you win?”
Jungkook clicks his tongue. “You throw out the rulebook for a month.”
“HAHAHA!” Taehyung lets out the loudest laugh ever. Literally, all of Greek Row must’ve heard it. Jimin and Mina giggle like gossiping school children. Jin nearly spits out his drink. You stare at Jungkook in horror.
“Ohhhhh shit,” Soobin lets out drowsily, barely audible from Taehyung’s continuous laughter. “No rules! Can’t hide behind rules for a month.”
“What does that even mean?” You ask hotly. “The rulebook is an abstract concept. How can it be thrown out?”
Jungkook smiles, proud of himself for riling you up. “You can obviously come up with other excuses to not let yourself have some fun, like studying or sudden pious uptaking. Don’t really care. But, for a month, you cannot outwardly refer to the rulebook. Simple.”
“Would you make someone neglect the Bible or the Quran for a month?!”
“Are you equating your fictional sex book to the holiest texts in history?”
“Fine, fold,” Jungkook offers, drinking some more too. He smiles brightly, like a menace on the playground. “Lose twenty dollars and deprive yourself of sex for a month. Leave it there and be an irritable mess without sex. You’re awful without dick-induced orgasms, as you’ve said.”
Mina nods to Jimin. “He’s not wrong.”
“Mina!” You shout.
“Thank you,” Jungkook nods civilly. He looks back at you with a businessman smile. “Or! Play the possibility that I leave you alone for a semester. I won’t tell you how pretty you are, I won’t ask about your hook ups, and I won’t ask you to sleep with me.”
The thought of the mess from the past week ending seems nice. You do like it when Jungkook compliments you and gives you attention, but without it, there’d be no temptation. You would be free of the temptation of breaking your rules. You give Jungkook a lot of power, but that’s the kind of hold this kid has on you.
“Even if I do win,” Jungkook continues coolly, “All you have to do is just become more creative in rejecting me. Or, just give me a straight answer finally. That’s all I want.”
“Give the man what he wants,” Yeonjun whines, leaning his head onto your shoulder. “The wait is killing me~”
You suck your teeth as you look into Jungkook’s eyes. They’re slightly red from the weed, and his face is a slight pink. He’s bullshitting you, and just giving you some pretty words to rile you up and bow out. He’s bluffing.
“Fine. But if I win, you have to squash the rumors about us going on. I’m tired of this shit,” you say, offering your final demand.
“Bet,” Jungkook nods.
Jin clears his throat before taking a long sip. “Okay, so if ____ wins, Jungkook stops simping over you for a semester. And if Jungkook wins, you stop referring to the rulebook for a month.”
“Uh-huh,” you hum, not breaking eye contact with him.
“Perfect,” Jungkook smirks.
Jin claps his hands. “Okay, Idiots. Show them.”
At the same time, you and Jungkook lay your cards down on the table. The other players watch the cards, as you and Jungkook stare at each others. You suck in your breath at the results.
God, this week really isn’t your week, you think to yourself when you see Jungkook’s Ace and Jack demolish your 9 and Jack.
“Higher straight wins!” Jin laughs, clapping his hands. Taehyung lifts up Jungkook’s hand in victory.
Your family members and friends laugh with enthusiasm at your downfall. You chug the remainder of whatever concoction is left in Soobin’s cup. Jungkook just smiles at you. “It’s going to be a fun month, Princess.”
“Eat shit, Jeon.”
lolololol ok part 2 will be out soon~
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ALPHA HYBRID!JONGIN X YOU
Warning(s): Semi-Noncon, breeding, claiming. Both characters are of legal age in this. This does not represent Kim Jongin nor anyone affiliated in any way and is purely a work of fiction. Browse at your own risk, you've been warned.
Request: Your mate Alpha Jongin claims you on a full moon against your will.
Y/n rolled her eyes at the eldest son of the Kims, Jongin, before she sipped on her drink and walked to the other side of the hall where the party was being held. She was only here because her mom forced her to do so, saying the whole family was invited and it'd be rude. The annoyed girl was standing in one of the many big balls of his mansion. And Jongin was so damn cocky, arrogant, proud and fucking smug.
The Kims were an elite wolf hybrid family and Jongin's father was the current mayor of the city. Humans and wolf hybrids coexisted throughout the whole world with almost all the hybrids being elite, the specie almost a class of its own. Currently, Jongin was showing off some project he was working on for the city whilst literally eye fucking Y/n who was the daughter of his father's human bestfriend.
She wondered what girl would fall for him. He was way too fucking over confident in himself and his abilities. The man carried himself like he was above everyone else around him and probably thought that too. How could anyone like him? Ugh. He was too much to bear with.
"You seemed bored during my speech." Y/n broke out of her trance, jumping a bit when she heard the familiar deep voice behind her. Rolling her eyes she stood up straight now as she was leaning against the railing of one of the many balconies of the mansion, staring at the full moon. "Tsk… isn't this kind of weather cold for you humans? What if you get sick, you foolish little girl…" Before his warm coat was draped over her naked shoulders.
Clenching her fist, the girl turned around to glare up at him. "I am 20! I am not litt-" she stopped abruptly when she came in face to chest contact with the taller, gulping at how he was staring down at her. "J- Jongin…" She whispered, throat dry.
"Hm…?" He casually sounded like he didn't have her trapped against the railing like that. Looking down at her soft curly locks, he softly pushed them out of her pretty face, tucking the strands behind her ear. "Better now that I can see that beautiful face fully."
Y/n felt her legs trembling. She had never been this close to another man let alone Kim fucking Jongin! "Y- Your eyes… t- they're… r- red…" The girl had always found the fact that they could shift into literal wolves terrifying, that was also one of the many reasons she avoided interacting with hybrids as much as she could.
"They are?" Putting his hands on the railing on the Y/n's either sides, the man leaned down and levelled their gazes, staring down at her calmly. He liked how her cheeks were red and pupils shook with fear. Good. "It's a full moon after all. They get like this on such nights. But don't worry, doll. I won't hurt you. I've trained plenty to keep Kai under control. He doesn't bite" before he grinned, his own words contradicting his body because his teeth looked sharper and longer.
"O- Oh alright… I- I'll go then~" shrugging his coat off, the girl tried to escape but oh no.
"Did you think about what I said, little one?" His bigger hand grasped her smaller one before he pulled her right back into him. "My confession… the other day." Jongin raised an eyebrow and spoke before she would try to play dumb. "You're my mate, baby. I need you on these nights… But you're always so busy running away from your Alpha… your mate… your guardian…" His voice was sickeningly low and sweet, plump lips grazing against her cheek. "Your protector and owner."
Angered from his last words, the girl furrowed her eyebrows and glared up at him. "I- I can protect myself just f- fine! Thank you! N- Now let me g- go! I already told you I like someone else! Y- You're a hybrid! I am human! Do you really think I am t- that stupid?! NO. We can't be mates! We are different species!"
The male sighed and shook his head. "Not when you stutter like that. Tsk. You just have to make it so much harder and complicated than it actually is, right? Little brats like you just won't learn until they're taught. And luckily your Alpha is here to teach you all that you need to learn."
Usually, he'd be able to keep his wolf under control much more as well as his anger. But the moon shining so bright right in his face was not helping. And then this little girl right here, huffing so adorably in her top cut low dress was looking so damn beautiful. Her constant denial wasn't helping.
"Thinking your Alpha is a liar…" Throwing her over his shoulder, he smacked her ass. "Tsk. You deserve to be punished harshly for that, my little human" before another smack landed on her ass as the man entered his bedroom, locking the door before he threw her struggling form on the bed.
"L- LET ME GO! Y- YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!" Before she tried to take her heels off to hit him with that, making him throw his head back and laugh loudly.
"What a pathetic little mate I have!" Smacking her hands out of the way, the man ripped her shoes off before ripping her dress from the bottom all the way up to the top, causing her to squeak and try to hide herself. "Fuck! You're so beautiful, my little mate!" Catching her kick mid-air, the man crawled on top of her and smacked her lips softly before kissing her. "Trying to hurt your Alpha? Bad baby."
Y/n was constantly running her mouth while crying but the Alpha turned a deaf ear to it. "Just give into the way of the moons, my pretty one, you'll be so much better." Trapping her hands that she was continuously hitting him with above her head, the male started kissing her face all over, tasting her tears and getting hard on them. "So good…" Before Jongin pulled her underwear down and gagged her mouth with it, the girl's screams were muffled now.
"You're so pretty with your mouth stuffed by your underwear, baby." Holding her hands tightly in a bruising grip, the hybrid unzipped his pants, holding her thighs open with his knees before his fingers started to rub against her pussy lips, pushing them open and now playing with her folds, making her sensitive body jump up in his chest from the sudden stimulation, her slit leaking.
Jongin chuckled. "You tell me no but your body can't deny me, huh? Seems like it is much more obedient than this dumb little girl here, tsk." Y/n whined and tried kicking her legs when he pinched her pussy lips painfully. "Look at this wet cunt, tsk!" Before he smacked her folds, causing the girl to scream in pain, his cock standing up painfully hard. "You want another man?!" His fingers turned into half claws, voice getting animalistic. "Well too bad the only man that's going to be fucking you and having you is me!"
Y/n's head was pounding. She hated how good and wet she felt. Her entrance was clenching needily, wanting just any object to push in her right now. Even if it was a marker like she had back home. Of course she was naughty. The girl was 20 after all!
"Fuck baby I need you now~" before the Alpha pushed in her unprepared pussy. No marker or even toy would have prepared for this. Jongin's knot was fucking huge! The human's eyes widened and mouth fell open, her body jerking when he instantly hit her g-spot, not being able to hold back especially because of the full moon and going berserk, thrusting his whole thick knot in and out of her, snapping his fists rapidly.
"You like this baby?! You're inviting me further and further in like you love it!" Pinching her nipples, the man started to suck and bite at her tits, sucking wherever his lips touched and covering her in hickies. "Fuck baby! You're so fucking warm and tight!" He loved the smell of her purity coating his cock, balls upping in without any effort.
"You deny me like that but your body says yes. You're mine after all! And I'll rightfully fucking claim you as such!" Y/n felt her body submit more and more, eyes falling shut as she tried to breathe through her nose because her whole underwear was stuffed in her mouth.
"Tsk… you're blushing in pleasure… look at this naughty fucking girl!" Before he kissed her lips harshly, biting at them before he guided his hand back to her pussy, rubbing at her clit with his thumb while going faster and faster, licking at her dripping sweat. "You like it, Princess?! You like being forced to lay under your Alpha?! Tsk. I should have known! Little girls like you end up being the most desperate whores!"
Letting go of her hands, the man grabbed her jaw and moved her face, licking at the marking point, the junction between her shoulder and neck before he bit down hard, drawing blood out while she screamed and started to squirt, feeling her pussy spasm as her hands gripped his shoulders, shaking.
"I am going to fill your adorable little tummy with my pups. You'd like that, won't you, baby?" Jongin licked at the fresh claim mark on her skin, starting to fill her with his cum before hitting it up her g-spot repeatedly, Y/n's eyes rolled to the back of her head as she gripped his shoulders, trembling under him.
"Tell me how you feel, my pretty human…" The hybrid male husked before he pulled the underwear out of her mouth and kissed her passionately. His hands groped her perfect skin as he stopped thrusting, still letting his cock rest in her, balls deep.
"A- Alpha… Alpha please f- fill my tummy…" She finally submitted, sobbing. "I- I am sorry…" He was right. She could feel it now after being touched and claimed like this. "Y- You were r- right… I- I can feel it… I only w- want you… P- Please fill my tummy with your puppies…" Jongin smiled and kissed her tears.
This is a pretty old request I found laying around along some others. I don't even have the actual request anymore so I made up a summary of the events that unfold.
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Silver lining, climbing in my desire
Terushima Yuuji x fem!reader
summary: to him, you were untouchable. His beautiful senpai that was adored and loved by everyone. But he wanted you to be his. An honour that he wanted for himself. Was that so bad?
contains : yandere!Terushima, nsfw, dubcon, noncon , senpai/kouhai relationship, virginity loss, unprotected sex, cream pie, classroom sex, mind break, (and a special cameo by Matsukawa Issei for some drama ) characters are 18 ( of age of consent)
a/n:wrote this while listening to R u mine? By Artic Monkeys, 🥴 ( also don’t know if this is any good afsgshaj) I just realised how hentai manga plotty this was. I’m really indulging myself here AFSGSHS I just think it’s so hot for Terushima to pine over a reader that he feels is untouchable, make my mind go brrr
ღ tip me on ᴋᴏ-ꜰɪ ღ
He could stare at you for hours.
If he was getting paid for the number of times he stares at you throughout the day, he’d be a millionaire by now. No, you didn’t share any classes with him. In fact, you were in a year above him. Despite being just a year older, Terushima Yuuji abandoned all the other girls who wanted his attention for you, his beautiful sweet senpai.
During recess, lunch, or after school, he always tried to get a glimpse of you, he even believed that you two were somehow intertwined since he didn’t have to try too hard to see you around. Maybe that was a sign for him to sweep you off your feet? The idea would get him giddy and distract him in his classes.
He would casually invite you to any of the teams’ matches and knowing how busy you were, seeing you make it to watch him play was an honor, that meant you were there for him right? Then every spike, every block, he’d even wink or point at you after consecutive scores, as if everything he did on the court at the very moment was all for show, for you.
But you didn’t think much of Terushima Yuuji’s flirtations. He was flirty by nature, a serial flirt to be exact, there was never a time you never catch him throwing a wink or smirk at any pretty girl who passed by. To you, his attention wasn’t something you paid much attention to, to you, you were just one of those girls. He was your junior and you were nothing more than his senior. You had to be a good example to everyone else younger not only because you’re in your third year but because you were a part of the student council. You looked after everyone as much as you could and you were rather popular for being so sweet and kind, always closing your ears to assumptions or prejudices of certain people, getting to know their character yourself.
Another reason why Terushima was so in love with you.
So in love that he detested the sight he saw on his way home today.
The sun had set and the almost eternal warm orange glow made the scene before him much more bittersweet in his eyes. It made you glow just as beautiful as the sunset. If only he was closer, as close as that other guy was who tucked your hair behind your ear and made you blush and giggle, he would be able to see just how ethereal you were.
He didn’t go to Johzenji. It was clear from the jacket he wore. The oh-so-familiar white and light turquoise shade of the fabric made his jaw tighten. He now understood why your enjoyment and knowledge of his sport surprised him, it was because you were dating a volleyball player of a powerhouse. You’ve probably sat through every game that guy was in, cheered for him like you cheered for Johzenji, and hung out with their team no doubt.
His knuckles were white as his hands were balled into fists by his side, watching as the much taller man beside you, carried your bag and had you hugging his arm. Was he your boyfriend? Why didn’t you tell him?
He had so many questions. He felt betrayed, lied to, and led on. The feelings ate away at him to the point he couldn’t sleep and that on the following day, he cornered you after school in the empty third-year classroom where you did your student council work in silence.
“Terushima Yuuji,” his name rolled off your tongue so beautifully, the most beautiful rendition of his name.“Shouldn’t you be at practice? Are you not feeling well?” You asked him with a soft smile, warmth radiating from your eyes, it almost made his frustration and resolve to crumble. But no. He needed answers.
“Are you seeing anyone Y/N-san?”
The question took you aback and you tilted your head to the side, wondering where on earth did that question come from.
“Terushima-san, why the sudden question?” You chuckled, flipping the pages of the budget list of each class.
“I saw you with another guy yesterday.” He pulled out a chair, sitting on it the other way around across you, arms crossed on the backrest. “Aoba Johsai, huh?” He smirked, playing off his jealousy as teasing.
You froze for a bit, a blush creeping up your cheeks. He didn’t like how you were speechless and blushing because of some other guy.
“You saw that huh?” You shyly murmured. “ That was Issei. He’s an old friend.”
Terushima’s jaw clenched. First name basis? You only ever called him Yuuji-kun when you scolded him for breaking rules or when you comforted him when he was a bit down. He was an old friend too? Did you let him fuck you?
“Why’d you go to Johzenji instead of Aoba Johsai? You could’ve been with your friend,” he went on, internally sighing at how you easily were fooled into thinking this was just small talk rather than a well-thought-out interrogation. “And you’re definitely Aoba Johsai material too. With that brain of yours and your pretty looks. You’d fit right in,” he added, wanting to be the one to make you blush this time, not Issei, and when you did, this feeling of pride swelled in his chest.
“Johzenji is closer to where my grandmother is. I take care of her, you see,” you replied, finding Terushima’s presence welcomed to your usual dull student council work routine. “Besides Issei comes over during the weekend. Grandma likes him.”
The small split-second loving smile as you spoke about another guy other than him in such a sentimental way made him grip the wooden backrest.
“Just you and Issei?” He raised his brow.
“Mhm. He’s always been coming over ever since we were kids.”
A childhood friend. How could he ever compete with that? That Issei guy was probably pining after you too, how could he not? You were perfect in every way. So untouched and pristine. Terushima wanted to be the guy who’d be your first boyfriend, your first everything. You were keeping yourself so modest and pure for him, right? You’re just waiting for him to finally make a move all this time right?!
His heart was cracking the more he thought of someone else making you happy, a cloud of black smoke seeped out of those cracks as well...but when the thoughts of someone else touching you and making you moan and writhe as he dreamt of and imagined many times, made a pit of jealously bloom in his chest.
“I’ll be right back, Terushima-san.” You got up from your seat, patting away the eraser dust on your skirt. “Just need to drop this in the club room. Watch my stuff for me?”
“You can count on me, Y/N-san!” He beamed up at you and felt his heart flutter when you smiled back before walking away. His eyes locked onto your form as you left, imprinting to his brain the shape and length of your legs that were exposed by your short skirt.
Terushima raised a groomed brow, eying your phone that vibrated on your desk. The screen lit up with a message.
Even when he was in another school he was getting in the way of his bonding time with you.
Glancing outside the hall that was empty and hearing m for any footsteps nearby, he picked up your phone and unlocked it, sighing in both relief and disbelief that you don’t even have a passcode.
Hey, I hope yesterday wasn’t a one time thing. It was fun. I’ll come over later. Mom wants me to send you and your grandma dinner.
Terushima’s grip on your phone tightened as he saw red. What the fuck was this Issei talking about? What exactly did you two do yesterday? He walked you home that’s for sure. Did he stay over? Did he —
“Yuuji-kun, I’ll be heading home now”, you walked in and noticed your phone in his hand, catching him red-handed.
“Oh okay? I accidentally swatted your phone when I stretched, sorry,” he muttered, placing your phone back onto the table.
“That’s okay. I’ve dropped it more times than I can remember,” you chuckled, standing by your desk, hunched over a little as you packed your things.
How naive were you? You easily bought into his life just like that. Didn’t even suspect him of snooping through your phone while you were away. It was pissing him off. Did you just believe everything everyone tells you?
“You should get back to practice. Thank you for accompanying me though,” you giggled, reaching for the straps of your bag but was prevented from doing so when came a steel grip around your wrist. He was standing now. “Yuuji-kun?” Your brows furrowed as you moved to turn to face him, only to feel your breath taken away from you as he crashed his lips onto yours.
Terushima didn’t care that you didn’t kiss him back, you were shocked, he understood that. He wrapped his arms around you, convicted to give you a kiss you’ll never forget, a kiss that’ll make you forget Issei.
You opened your mouth to protest but he took it as a sign to slip his tongue between your lips to taste and assert dominance. Your hands tried to push him away but he was far taller and stronger than you were, and his arms holding you against his body secured you to your spot.
Why was he kissing you all of a sudden?
“Yuuji...,” you managed to say when his lips parted from yours for a split second to catch his breath, only to kiss you again making you stumble backwards to the desk by the window, trapping you.
“I’ve dreamt of kissing you for so long, Y/N-san,” he rasped, hoisting you so easily onto the desk and standing between your legs that tried to close themselves only to be obstructed by his hips.
“Yuuji-kun, what are you doing?” You panted, lips trembling and a hand holding down your skirt that had ridden up, to cover your intimate area while his lips attacked your neck, nipping and sucking on this specific spot that forced a soft moan from you.
“You sound so pretty when you do that senpai,” he chuckled, licking along your jaw the glide of this tongue piercing making you shiver. His hand was quick to shove itself down in your underwear making you squirm as he touched you in such a sensitive area.
“Yuuji-kun—ah!—stop!” You shook your head trying to tell yourself that you didn’t want this. Your body was acting on its own, responding to his touches with or without your permission. Terushima was your junior. You shouldn’t be doing things like this with him. You had been kissed yesterday for the first time in your life, you weren’t exactly ready for something like this. “P-please...s-stop.” You squirmed.
“Are you sure you want me too? You’re getting so wet down here,” he teased, fingers slick with your growing arousal and toying with your clit.
“Yuuji!” You softly cried out, back arching and breasts pressing against his body.
“I love it when you say my first name. It means we’re close. We’re close, aren’t we senpai?” He tugged your cotton panties down, your legs closing in protest to being exposed in such a place.
“Yuuji-kun, not here. Please!” You begged, dainty hands trying to stop his callous ones that were pushing your thighs apart.
“That’s what’s bothering you? Doing it in a classroom?” He lowered himself on his knees, his eyes leveled to your pink glistening cunt. Fuck. He was so hard right now but he has to have a taste. He needs a taste.. “You’re so wet for me,” he praised, licking his lips.
“Yuuji-kun, what are you doing?” Your voice trembled as he leaned closer, your heart increasing its pace as his face neared your private parts. “No! Yuuji, please. Don’t look!” You thighs pushed against his hands, trying to close, your face growing hotter with embarrassment.
“Don’t be a tease babe. Why are you acting like you’ve never been eaten out before? Didn’t you and Issei fuck? Hm?” There was venom laced in his voice and it was new to you. It was scary even. But your brows furrowed when you processed his words, forgetting that he was close to burying his face into somewhere inappropriate, a place where only your own fingers touched before.
“Yuuji-kun…” you whimpered weakly, making the blond glance up at you. “I...n-never...never…” it’s the words were stuck in your throat, too ashamed to admit something like that him. “You’re...you’re my first.”
He had assumed wrong? He tilted his head a little taking in the confession as the most perplexing thing he’s ever heard.
You had hoped that would stop him...if he had confessed to you properly, maybe things would’ve gone a different route. It doesn’t have to be this way...but little did you know, that made him want you even more, and when he only sweetly, almost sympathetically smiled at you, your heart raced.
But your protests fell on deaf ear, he leaned closer and his tongue took an experimental flick on your clit, your body felt electrified. Your eyes shot wide open at the initial contact but quickly melted into a hot and heavy sensation, words were failing you when he began to lick and prod your entrance with his tongue.
Terushima was having the time of his fucking life. He could stay here forever. Head between your thighs and face buried into your pretty little cunt, tasting you and making you moan.
“Yuuji-kun...” you whimpered, not sure if you wanted him to stop or keep going,
Terushima knew that it was so intense for you. Of course, it was, no one has ever touched you here before. Plus, his tongue piercing was definitely something you’d never forget. You were so sensitive, he loved it.
“Taste so sweet, baby,” he moaned against your dripping cunt the vibrations making you bite your lip. The languid and then sudden quick flicking of his tongue on your clit was fogging up your brain, a knot inside you winding tightly as if something inside of you was going to burst. What was this feeling? It’s too much. It was dizzying like when you’ve had more than a glass of wine.
Then there was this sudden increasing rush inside of you, it was plummeting fast and it got faster when he slipped in two digits into your hole and began to pump his fingers inside you. And it was enough to have you cumming.
Your first orgasm ripping white-hot heat through your body, head thrown back and mind empty.
Terushima quickly tugged his track pants down, freeing himself from his briefs while you were still in a daze, fisting his hard cock in his hand, he was eager to bury himself in your virgin cunt. Groaning at the sight of how the tip of his cock was going to split your lower lips open for the first time in your life, he completely ignored your panic as you tried to back away but you were trapped between him and the wall.
“Yuuji-kun, wait! Don’t—,” your rushed breathy cries were ignored. Your junior who was only ever kind and a friend, now a stranger. He lined himself at your soaking entrance, his hands pushing your thighs to your chest to open up your pussy even more to him, your back pressed against the wall.
Terushima watched the tip pop inside your entrance and already he could feel just how tight you were. His senpai’s pussy was going to swallow his cock, he couldn’t believe this was happening. He leaned forward and you cried at the burning sensation of his length impaling your chaste core, inch by inch he sunk in tearing you apart, tears were flowing down your eyes as you accepted your fate...your body embracing the new sensation with a need you’ve never felt before.
“Senpai, you’re so tight,” he groaned, brows pinched together as he breathed deeply. “It’s like you’re sucking me in. Do you want me that bad, senpai? Want me to fuck you and make you my little slut? Hm?” He had stilled once he was sheathed all the way in, he could feel your pussy throbbing around him, trickles of almost pink blood dripping down your hole as you kept yourself stiff and still, sacred that if you moved, you’d be torn apart.
“Yuuji-kun, it hurts.” You sniffled, begging for any kind of comfort from him forgetting how you didn’t want this to happen. It was already happening...the least you could do was make this experience easier for you. You cupped his face with your hands as you whimpered at how full you felt. “You’re so deep inside, Yuuji-kun. Feel so full. Please be gentle. It hurts so much.”
Terushima’s resolve immediately softened and he held your face in his large hands, kissing your tears away. “It’s only going to hurt for awhile baby. It’s gonna feel real good soon, I promise. I’ll make you feel good.”
No. You internally objectified. You hated him right now. You were hurt too. Why did he do this? How was your body screaming for more while your mind screamed at you at how wrong this was? Why did Yuuji-kun force himself onto you when he could have any other girl?
Terushima drew his hips back, his length leaving you momentarily making you gasp for air at the sudden sensation of his cock dragging along your walls. He didn’t give you a chance to collect yourself when he buried himself back in again, beginning to slowly thrust in and out of you, the resistance of your walls slowly loosening for him.
Why? You asked yourself with each thrust. Why was he doing this?
“Ah, senpai, your pussy feels so good,” he hissed, slamming his hips against the back of your thighs over and over. His cock was stretching you out, you could feel the pain subside to something else and it was driving you crazy. Everything seemed so foggy. Rational thoughts were hard to think of when Yuuji’s cock stuffing your pussy full was all you could think of. You felt intoxicated. Moans left you despite wanting to hold them back and your walls squeezed him with need despite the fact he forced himself onto you.
“How do you feel Y/N-chan? Do you feel good?” He grinned, seeing your already fucked out expression. His pristine and elegant senpai reduced to nothing but a moaning and babbling mess. “You like this don’t you? Like how my cock is stuffing your pretty little cunt?” He snapped his hips harder making your head thrusts side to side, your calves resting on his shoulders. “Gonna make you mine. Gonna make you my pretty little cum slut.”
Your heart was racing in your chest as you gazed up at him, watching strands of his hair fall over his eyes, a glistening sheen of sweat on his forehead and his brows pinched together as he focused on fucking you. Your body felt incredibly hot and the fact you were still in your uniform didn’t help with the heat.
“It’s too hot…Yuuji…” Why did it feel so hot? It was burning.
Terushima smirked at how easily you succumbed to him. So sweet and so cute. All of you was made for him. And he finally took his chance. He was glad he kissed you, if he didn’t he wouldn’t be fucking the senpai he’s dreamt of and crushed on for two years.
A slutty moan left you when his thumb began to rub your clit, the knot inside you winding tighter to the point you chanted his name like a prayer and you couldn’t even process how you were whimpering for more. Why were those words leaving your mouth? It’s like your logical self was buried away and watching all of this unfold before their eyes, screaming and tell you that this was wrong. That you shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t be saying those words.
“Feel so good. Ah! Yuuji-kun’s cock is filling up my pussy,” you babbled, heavy-lidded eyes looking up at him as if he was the sun.
“Told you it’ll feel good baby,” he chuckled, repeatedly abusing this special spot inside that had you cumming in seconds. All his. You were all his. “Awe, senpai,” he cooed, still rocking into you as your body arched and trembled from your first-ever real orgasm. “You came already? I’ll come inside you okay? You want that right. Want me to stuff you full with my cum?”
You nodded quickly, arms wrapping around his neck as you came down from your high, losing yourself once more at the feeling of him. If you were in the right state of mind, you would’ve told him to not cum inside you, told him that this won’t happen again but when he finally came and you felt the hot thick ropes of his deeds spill inside of you, something inside you snapped.
“Fuck!” He growled, stilling himself as he emptied every drop of him inside your warm gummy walls. “I love you so much. I love you...I love you...”He chanted under his breath, his forehead leaning against your own and when you heard those three words, your heart had stopped beating. With his forehead against yours, you were able to drink in every detail of him. The pierced ears, how his lashes were long and thick, his almond-colored eyes the sweetest you’ve ever seen in your life.
“Y-you love me?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Slowly, he raised his gaze, locking his eyes with yours. His lids were hooded as he came down from his high, a sweet and soft expression on his handsome face. He even blushed.
“Y-yeah...” he admitted, holding your hips gently, “I guess I do...I don’t want you to be with anyone else, Y/N.”
Blissed out, your legs tightened around his waist keeping him in place, your walls fluttering around him.
You didn’t care about being his senpai anymore, Yuuji-kun was so sweet. He did all this because he loved you. Took your virginity too. How could you ever forget that?
There was a silence between the two of you. Terushima still reveled at the feeling of cumming inside of his senpai, it was so bad of him to do so but it felt so good. Fed his ego too, he was the lucky guy to have taken the sought-after senpai of his.
“Y-Yuji-kun,” you murmured, gripping his jacket and pulling him closer, Terushima’s brow-raising at your movements. What did his beautiful senpai want? Say it and he’ll give it to you.
“What is it, babe?” He whispered gently, caressing your cheek.
You lifted your gaze, his heart stopping. Your eyes were shimmering yet hazy like a spell has been cast over them. Your expression was absolutely wanton, the elegance and gracefulness of it all stripped away. What has he done?
“M-make me feel good again, please.”
Terushima bit his lip. He has broken you hasn’t he? Snapped you to mold into him. He didn’t think it’d be that easy to make you want him as he does. If you think he was ever going to let you go, you were wrong.
Flipping you around, he bent you over the desk, pulling out to let some of his cum drip from your pretty little cunny before shoving the white, hot liquid back in. Your moans leaving you freely, begging and begging for more, begging for him.
This was what he wanted.
“You’re mine forever now, senpai,” he growled, pounding into you, colliding with the back of your thighs harshly, your rear jiggling with every snap of his hips.
“Yuuji-kun—hng—ah! More! Make me feel good again, please. Please. Please.” You whined, your hips trying to meet his thrusts to feel him deeper, your walls hugging him tighter like they didn’t want him to ever stop.
“Oh,baby,” he groaned, head thrown back and smacking your rear, making you squeak. “You sound so pretty begging like that. This is all for me right? All of you is all for me?”
“Yes! Yes! All for Yuuji!” You babbled, panting against the wood.
He massaged your ass cheek that was blooming a harsh shade of pink, a cream of white at the base of his cock as you now basically sucked him in. This was more than what he wanted. He didn’t think he’d have you reduced to a cock slut so easily, and the best part of it was, it was his cock that you were creaming around for. It was more than what he bargained for, but he’ll gladly fucking take it.
Terushima skipped practice that day. Walked you home after marking you as his, keeping you close as your legs trembled with each step you took. You were wrapped around his arm, nuzzling close to him as if yesterday your relationship with him wasn’t strictly senpai and kouhai, as if yesterday you weren’t walking with another guy after school. It was his privilege now.
And from that day on, every time he saw you around school all composed and pretty, being the idol student and caring senior you were, he was filled with nothing but pride. Pride in knowing that he was the one getting to walk you home every day, the one who was taking you out on dates, the one who took your virginity and would fuck you til you were seeing stars.
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Let’s Try Again [KTH]
Let’s Try Again [Taehyung x Reader]
⟶ Credit: @kimtaehyunq
⟶ Genre: Smut | 21+| Slice of Life AU | One Shot
⟶ Warnings: pregnant!reader, married, some nipple play, slightdom!tae, fingering, ass play, cock warming, oral (f), spanking, finger sucking, biting kink, impreg kink, semi roleplay, explicit, slight edging, penetrative/rough sex, cursing, cunt slapping, small praises, oversensitivity, unprotected sex, creampie, a mess and a half, etc.
⟶ WC: 7.1k
⟶ Summary: Taehyung, your husband and father of your child(ren), continues to lead a teasing game which consists of persistence, dedication, dirty talk, and more. He just wants to try again!... and again, and again, and again.
⟶ Teaser: “You nod innocently and he coos at your negligence. His knees dip into the bed one by one, hand fastening its pace along his length. He glistens from the precum that leaks freely from the tip, slicking the liquid around as much as possible to give him the much needed friction he craves.”
⟶ Author’s Note: I have no clue why this idea popped up in my head randomly, but here it is. I felt the need to do something for Taehyung, especially due to his birthday month, possible KTH1, Snow Flower, and the holidays. I just wanted some warm feels with some dirty thoughts. Also - unedited because I don’t care. Quick thank yous to @jamaisjoons, @balenciaguks, @joontopia, @lemonjoonah and @out-of-jams for giving me some ideas and tips for this cream scene.
“Please tell me you went out and bought more formula before we headed out.” You glance over hesitantly to your husband, Taehyung, who is humming along to a catchy Christmas tune ringing out of the radio. He side-eyes you briefly with a questionable look, making sure to pay attention to the frosty road ahead.
“Uh…” he starts, eyes going wide as he’s searching through his memories.
“I didn’t.” He clears his through. “I wasn’t thinking when I was at the store. It’s crowded because of the holiday and I was worried about the diapers. They didn’t have the smaller pack and I didn’t want to buy the set with sixty in it.”
You glance into the backseat to view Yejun, the small adorable eighteen-month-old boy that both Taehyung and you personally crafted, lays relaxed in his car seat with his binky tucked tight between his lips. Sighing, you watch the soft bundle of joy adamantly, his cheeks puffed up just like his father’s when he stares back at you.
“It’s fine. I’ll just use half-milk for now. Tomorrow we’ll have to grab more.”
The two of you are heading to the annual festive party that’s thrown at Hoseok’s place each year. As of recent it feels like each party consists of a new added member, either a partner or a new toddler in the mix. You’re already running twenty minutes late, but you’ll get there when you get there.
“Have you met Jungkook’s new partner yet? I’ve only seen pictures, but it seems pretty serious.” Taehyung questions as he turns off the main road.
“She seems nice, haven’t had the chance to talk to her though. But Jungkook looks happy. Maybe he’ll finally settle down.”
“Maybe,” he chuckles – he’s the one who would know the extent of most of Jungkook’s past relationships anyways. “He’s still young though, I don’t blame him.”
You quirk an eyebrow toward him, “You were married and had a child by his age already. And you’re excusing him for being young?” You taunt with a poke to his side. “Guess you’re still considering yourself young too?”
“Young and forever in love.” His eyes flicker to yours, the ongoing streetlights giving them a sparkling appearance.
You click your tongue, “Aish – You’re so cheesy sometimes.” You turn your head to avoid the heat Taehyung lays onto you.
Taehyung smiles at that. Pride swelling inside his chest, “You know you’re my everything, right?” His hand gently places itself onto your thigh, lightly squeezing the flesh he can fit between his fingers.
“I love you too.” You smirk as you continue to steer clear of his teasing gaze. At least the holiday party will give the two of you some stress relief and reunite you with some of your most dearest friends. Allowing the little ones to converse with another and enjoy play time as well.
Aimlessly, Taehyung leads his hand further up to the round of your small belly-bump, rubbing small circles with his fingertips. “You haven’t told any of them yet?”
“Both hands on the steering wheel!” You pat his hand, laughing as Taehyung forms a deep pout to his lips. “And no… Nobody knows. How do you want to tell them?”
“Not sure yet.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you; a sign that he’s lying straight through his teeth and already has a plot forming inside that superior brain of his.
The number of times one of the children in this newly developing zoo inside of Hoseok’s humble abode has either cried, screamed, or fought over one of the cookies has rung up what extraordinarily little patience you have had in general. You aimlessly rub the strain in your neck while holding up a glass of ice water at the same time of discussing new baby toys and clothes for Christmas with Jess, Namjoon’s wife for years – mother of three rambunctious children who are a currently the source of loud behavior in the other room.
She quips up excitement, telling you how exciting it is to greet another child into the world. She looks down at your chest with no hesitation, eyeing the size of your bosom doubling already in such an early trimester. “It’s amazing how your body was so ready to bounce back. Clearly you are ready for this.”
Early, just after you, Yejun, and Taehyung enter through the front door to Hoseok’s house, Taehyung immediately belches out his announcement that he – yes ‘he’ – is pregnant without a second to spare. Shocking not only you but the entire household, your head whips around to see everyone giving you puzzling looks. His arm wraps around your frame, palm brushing against your tummy while holding your child in his other arm. He gleams bright with fascination and excitement running through his face. If he weren’t so damn loving you would probably scold him for the release of information so suddenly.
“It’s not appreciative. I wasn’t ready.” You laugh, “These things hurt sometimes!” You shake your head, pointing at your husband who is hovering around the den among his other longtime friends with a tall bottle of scotch shared among them. “I blame him,” you joke.
Jess leans back against the marble counter behind her, inspecting the scenes before her eyes. “You can blame him all you want, but you love it. He’s also been eyeing you like a hawk all night. He’s a very proud father.” Your hand casually brushes against your bottom stomach to pat the small area with a smile.
“Do you plan on having any others?”
“Hell no.” She smirks, waving her finger in the air. “Even if Joon begs me for another, it ain’t happening anytime soon. I have to constantly watch out for him too, he pulls some risky cards in the bedroom.”
A swarm of children run through the kitchen with trails of ribbon cascading behind them as they jump around as if they had superpowers. Yours is soon to follow, stumbling along with a wide, cheeky smile while being the caboose of the train. He’s adorable and looks strongly like his father thanks to his dominant genes.
Once you glance back over to the gentlemen who crowd the other area, you notice Taehyung’s heated stare – different from the one he gave you in the car. It spikes a sense of alarm within you, something carnal about the way he locks you down with a piercing gaze. He nods to whichever male who speaks inside the circle though his eyes never leave yours. There’s a hint of jealousy when it comes to wanting to experience a good drink for yourself, maybe a nice taste of Southern Comfort whiskey with lime, but you know better than to do anything that want.
Dawn, the delightful new girlfriend of the one and only Jungkook, has your attention pulled from Taehyung and onto her as she strolls into the kitchen in search for something. She mentions how the other women who have been talking in the living room wish to start up the White Elephant gift exchange soon, suggesting that rallying up the troops is ideal.
You settle for the shift in events, gathering a handful of some finger-foods on a small circular paper-plate before exiting the area and rejoining the group. Not before giving Taehyung a quick suggestive nod, notifying him that the rest of you will be waiting for the men to pitch in when they’re ready.
It isn’t long before they trudge themselves one by one to sit next to their significant others around the Christmas Tree that’s dressed in white lights and gold tinsel, one beautiful angel strung up as a tree topper. Rea, a woman who seems just as mysterious as her partner – Yoongi – gathers up the gift exchange presents together in a circle, offering to play rock, paper, scissors to see which couple should be the first to grab a present and start off the show.
You sit comfortably against a large recliner with Yejun seated in your lap, Taehyung perched on top of the arm while the two of you watch the cryptic hand gestures battle between Seokjin and Jimin with excitement. You feel his hand rest against your shoulder, slow pressure of his thumb massaging comfortably against your shoulder bone. His touch is magical, always able to ease up the tension, and voluntarily you lean further into his touch.
The first gift, stays out of view from the younger, prying eyes, ends up being a colorful vibrator equipped with ten different settings. A strong chuckle roars inside the area, suggestive winks and playful antics discourse throughout. Eden and Jimin seem the most thrilled about the object and set their eyes for the endless chances they can use the device. From what you have heard through the grapevine, those two have dabbled more into the toys more than anyone else you’ve known.
Gradually, the presents continue to be open, stolen, and swapped between another. Until the game resolves and each couple are blessed – or cursed – with a gift they may or may not even use.
“You want to use this when we get home?” The deep baritone voice of your husband skirts around the shell of your ear. You feel the warmth of his breath tickle your skin, goosebumps appear and reappear quickly.
You snort at the idea, shaking your head at the nonsense of wearing a Batman and Robin Halloween costume set. The suggestion is funny, though you knew exactly what Taehyung’s motive is referring to. “Not happening.”
Throughout the night he continues to give you a penetrating gaze, as if he never has laid eyes on you before – as if he could drink you up right then and there. You stay preoccupied with the ladies and kids, especially when Yejun falls and bumps his head on a rough surface and screeches out for you. You take him to the guest bedroom where all belongings were dropped off after arrival, looking for the ‘baby bag’ full of necessities for your little one.
He has a small scuff on the corner of his forehead and watery eyes, but Yejun is a strong young boy. You know he just needs to be shown he’s completely fine and he’ll be fast back on the trail of the other children.
The door behind you ticks open, glancing over your shoulder you notice Taehyung’s stark black hair peep through the crack asking if everything is all right, in which you respond with a small nod and a zip to secure the boots back onto your wiggling child.
“Just a dirty diaper and a little bump, but he’s good.” You watch as Yejun reaches out excitedly towards his father, grabby-hands and all.
He gives his first-born the affection he craves, granting the small boy open opportunities to leave wet open mouth kisses to his cheeks and tugs on the knitted sweater that covers Taehyung’s torso – pulling a seam out of place. After placing the kid back down, granting him the ability to step through the door frame and hopefully follow the lights back to the living room – he is a smart one after all – Taehyung swings his arms around you while he has the chance.
“I don’t know what it is about your outfit, but it’s driving me up the wall.”
Instantly, his hands smooth out the fabric of your dark navy dress and round the lump of your ass cheeks, squeezing firmly. You upbraid him, suggesting that his son probably gets his impulsive hands-on instants through him as well, and Taehyung hums at the accusation.
“Tae!” You smile, though you fight the attentiveness of his mouth now touching the curve of your neck. “There’s like twenty people in the other room! What are you doing?”
He playfully growls as he pinches your side to earn a small shriek from your lips. “You look so fuckin’ beautiful tonight.” Taehyung’s fingers ruffle a bunch of material between them, slowly lifting the skirt of your dress higher up your thigh. He licks his lips, deliciously, while eyeing down your front. “If you let me… I’ll take you back to my place tonight,” he smirks at his frisky antics and the way you cannot help but smile back at his ridiculousness.
“There’s no way you’re drunk right now.” You shoo his hands away, attempting to stand up straight before Taehyung commits further.
“Nope. I’m perfectly sober. My eyes do not deceive me, babe. You’re stunning. Can I have your number?” His box-shaped smile shines bright on those perfect plump lips of his as you swat at his chest.
“Taehyung! Go attend to your son, I’m sure he wants some juice.” You hand him the bottle from the front pocket of the bag that rests on the bed besides you.
“Such a tease,” he mumbles, playing into the character of this random roleplay. “That reminds me,” He grabs the item, smiling down with a request to kiss you. You give him a quick peck, thinking that’s what his comment referred to. But it was a trap.
He takes his opportunity to latch his mouth on yours, slip his savory tongue down between your lips. His arm links around your waist to hold you closer. The moment you break away to protest he finds your jawline and runs back to the column of your neck where he inhales a whiff of your lavender perfume.
You breathe out weakly, “Tae, not now.”
“Babe, let’s try again.” He pushes his hips flush against yours, a growing erection evident in the trousers he wears.
“Try what again!?” Your mind rushes for all potential opportunities of one of the many people walking past the open guest bedroom door who’ll find the two of you in such a conflicting position. Please don’t be hinting at the onetime Taehyung and you went too far at Seokjin’s place for Easter. He constantly sang sweet threats about ‘Easter eggs won’t be the only eggs painted tonight’ – or something with that general idea. Your husband holds onto you like a leech while you seek a rational scapegoat.
“Let me show you how to make a baby.” He giggles while peppering strands of kisses across your skin.
“Jesus Christ – Tae no!” You push more force against his chest now, knowing you need to cut this act now. “You already achieved that twice now. Mission accomplished! The missile has landed!”
He follows the collar of your dress down to the tops of your cleavage, using the tip of his tongue to trail onto the soft skin of your protruding, round jugs. “Hm, not sure. Let me check. I might need to stuff you some more.”
Alright, he’s being completely comical at this point – if any of his friends saw him right now, they’d bash him and never let it down. With your persistent whispers of scolding words, he continues you tease and rile you up with tangible bedroom-talk promises. He was in the middle of explaining to you how well you’ll look in that new costume just as Hoseok crosses the hallway.
“Hey! None of that shit in here!” He plucks Taehyung on the back of his head with a flick. “I know what happened that one Easter! This is my house, and you aren’t allowed to defile my home.”
“And you’re allowed to?” Taehyung whines, smiling over at his older hyung.
“It’s my house!”
Hoseok eyes the two of you, commenting how the two of you resemble two horny teenagers or something and ushers both of you out of the guest room with urgency. He has no desire to allow two – clearly sextually active members – to create a mess in his pure area.
“Don’t take offense Tae,” you smile with a mischievous tone. “I know some ‘defiling’ stories about him and Betty. Stay away from the second-floor bathroom. That’s where Jiwoo was made.”
You look back at Hoseok who is flaring his nostrils out of annoyance, shooting you a warning look to stop whatever story you plan on unleashing to Taehyung’s ears. Taehyung wobbles his eyebrows directed to Hoseok, discussing under his breath that maybe it’s the perfect ‘baby-making spot’ in the entire house.
“Taehyung,” you click your tongue as the three of you rejoin the party. “I’m already pregnant with your second child. Baby is in the oven. You’ve succeeded.”
“Yeah, but the act of prepping the ingredients is my favorite part.” He smugly smiles, hugging you from behind and placing each hand on the front of your stomach while leaning his mouth to nip at the tip of your ear. “Plus, I think you look insanely hot with a baby-bump. And knowing you look fucking fantastic when you’re dripping that cum filled pussy is a pretty picture. It turns me on.”
“Shut your mouth before anybody hears you!”
You twist the faucet until water discontinues running from the overhead showerhead and you’re reaching out for the fluffy towel to wrap around your freshly clean body. The crisp icy air greets you bitterly, hugging against your heated, wet skin. You rush fast to the bedroom, the dresser greeting you already with a preplanned pajama set you laid out prior to the steamy shower. Taehyung must be handling Yejun, putting him down for the night as it is quite late after coming home from the Jung’s holiday party.
Lotion lathers over your arms, moisturizing your skin as much as possible due to your habit of drenching yourself in scolding water. You understand that it dries you out but the feeling of hot water pounding against your body is so downright blissful.
“Ah, I thought that was going to be quicker…” Taehyung stumbles into the bedroom, looking over at you who sits on the edge on the bed with a loose shirt and undies on, towel wrapped around your head and a bottle of moisturizer besides you. You’re reaching down to your calve, spreading the off-white cream across your skin.
His lips pout slightly, “You’re already finished with the shower.”
“But I wanted to shower with you.”
You shrug nonchalantly, looking over to his slumping shoulders. “Sorry. I didn’t know you wanted to.”
Slowly he pads his way over to you, lifting off his sweater in a swift motion. He tosses it without a care and then he’s before you, kneeling down between your legs. Casually, he replaces his hands with yours, squeezing your muscles delicately in a rhythmic pattern.
“You can still join me, just hop right back in there.” He teases.
You laugh, trying to push away Taehyung’s slow massaging hands but he retaliates and captures one of your feet instead. Hooking his thumbs deep into the sole as he smoothly strokes up the area to the balls of your foot, his forearm muscles flex along with his strategic motions. Your bottom lip comes snug between your teeth in reaction to the joyous pleasure. The muscles you never think of aching feel so tender as Taehyung works them out.
“I’m already clean!”
An innocent smile plays on Taehyung’s face, quirking a brow up as he teasingly stares at your reaction to his magical hands. His eyes venture up the expanse of your legs, peaking at the conjunction where your flavorful taste hordes itself. He knows what he is doing, he knows how to break down those walls until you’re a gooey mess from under him.
“We can fix that.” He hushes you while swapping to the other foot and up the length of your shin. Taehyung leans up closer, slotting himself between your legs while his hands run up your spread thighs.
“Are you that envious of me showering?”
He hums while purposely hooking his thumbs under the waistband of your undies, pressing into your hip bones. His eyes spark with darkness, a lustful look. He’s so close that you can almost feel the breath from his lungs exhale through his nose, he shifts himself as tauntingly close as possible. “I just want to finish what we started at Hoseok’s.”
“You started that.”
“Then I’ll continue.” He licks his lips; the shine of his cupid’s bow calls for you to kiss. Though Taehyung has other plans tonight.
His mouth is in a haste, cupping your cheeks into a pucker as he crashes his lips onto yours. His fingernails ride up the side of your scalp until he effortlessly pushes off the towel, carding his fingers gingerly between your damp hair. He cranes your head back with a yank, giving him access to shove his slippery muscle into your mouth, determination evident to finish what has been brewing deep inside of him. You whine momentarily, surprised of the abrasive behavior but finding yourself enjoying the inflicting pleasure that comes from the passion behind his actions.
“Taehyung, what about Yeju – Ah!”
He receives your high pitch groan with a growl, chasing your lips as he removes the hand on your cheeks in favor to grope your chest beneath the fabric of your shirt. Your head is locked with Taehyung’s fist in your hair, allowing him to assault your mouth whichever way he pleases. His teeth come nipping at your bottom lip, pulling it enough to suck harshly on the flesh. He sooths over the dull throb with the flick of his tongue, peering darkly into your eyes.
“Fast asleep,” he murmurs. There’s no uncertainty in his deep, rich voice – overly confident that tonight he’s going to take you again. An intensity of his blazing stare sparks excitement within you, an instant pulse of arousal creeping between your legs once he tips your head back. Like a magnet his lips surround the curve of your neck all the way up to your ear, begging to bite into the skin and leave grotesque markings in his path.
“Let me fill you back up, babe. I’m dying to see your pussy squeeze around me again.”
His words make your body shutter against him, and shamefully, you find yourself matching his ferocity in an instant, lunging your hands to the band of his pants to seek for its zipper. Seduction with Taehyung isn’t needed, he captures your entire interests that he has you involuntarily wrapped around his finger – and soon you’ll be wrapping around his cock.
Your shirt is removed swiftly only for your breasts to be engulfed by his large, veiny hands. You tug harshly on his pants, urging him to slide them completely down and release his gifted member.
“God, they’re so full.” He comments, cuffing your boobs and pushing them together. “I want to cum all over them after I fill you up.” He grunts at the contact of your palm clasping over his dick, stroking him firmly.
“Oh fuck,” you gasp as Taehyung yanks your body to settle further above the bed, back landing flat against the mattress
“How clean are you, babe? Did you wash everywhere?”
His eyes don’t meet yours while he stands from his place, pants falling past his knees and hand fisting around his swollen cock. He stares down at your underwear, the underside right between your legs, where he sees a small, darkened patch in the dip of your lady-lips.
You nod innocently and he coos at your negligence. His knees sink into the bed one by one, hand fastening its pace along his length. He glistens from the precum that leaks freely from the tip, slicking the liquid around as much as possible to give him the much needed friction he craves.
“You’re lying.” He tsks, dropping his jaw slightly as he twists just right around his cockhead. He glares down at you below him, your body writhing slightly under his presence. “Take the underwear off. Show me where you missed.” He commands, using his hand to push your knees into the air to angle your legs up.
Promptly, you comply to his order with the lift of your hips and glide of the useless fabric that finds itself on the floor. He holds your ankles up in position, looking at the underside of your thighs and clear view of your pussy and cheeks. His long fingers find your center, using two digits to cut through the slit and pry open your sensitive bits. Taehyung notices the way your hole clenches for a moment, the way a wad of arousal holds together in a string as he separates it with his fingertips.
“You call this clean, Y/n?” His voice is rough now and you look over to him past your legs.
“I was clean –“
He interrupts your sentence with the plunge of his two deft digits, not allowing you to settle with the infiltration and begins at a fast pace. “Listen to this,” he groans to the squelching sounds every time his fingers scissor you wide. “This is a fuckin’ mess,” he confirms with the rough pads of his fingers hooking harshly into your cunt. You weaken at the noise, at his bruising fingers pounding into you, and at the lascivious look in his eyes.
The thought of Taehyung completely ruining you, making you the dirtiest person for him, only serves to turn you on more. Your hands are shaking as they hold your legs back for another command, giving Taehyung the free range to continue his brutal pace inside your cunt while bringing his attention back to his hanging, thick cock.
Taehyung has eye-fucked you all night, tried getting frisky on multiple accounts at the party, and now is your time to feel the aching and yearning for your husband. “Fuck, Taehyung, please don’t let me hold my legs all night.”
His eyebrow raises with suspicion, dejecting his fingers immediately to land his palm down on your pussy. You squirm from the friction, the spank sending a quick surge of pain and pleasure down your spine. “You think you’re going to get what you want because you asked for it? Where’s the effort? Did I get what I want when I asked at first?” His eyes glare at yours as one hand wraps back around your ankles to fold and pin you back, shuffling himself closer to your eager hole to tap the head of his warm cock against your entrance.
“Tae, please!” You reach for his hips but he maneuvers away. Favoring another slap to your cunt which makes you muffle a moan.
“Answer my questions.” His tone is stern, coaxing an answer from you with the slow glide of his heavy cock between your slippery folds.
“No!” You spit out.
He sits back on his heels while flopping your legs over to one side, twisting your body so he can lean over you. “No? No what?” His face draws closer to yours, intensity radiating off the angles of his face with the seriousness he holds himself in.
“No, you didn’t get what you wanted.” You pant.
“And why is that?”
“Because we were out at Hoseo –“
Taehyung flips you over to your knees, hips hoisted up and back arched down in an instant. “Try again. You have one chance.”
You resist the impulse to push your ass back into Taehyung’s hovering lap, biting your lip as you contemplate your decisions. “Because I didn’t give you want you wanted.”
His palms smooth over the round of your ass, playfully spreading the cheeks open and allowing them to mold back to their original place. “Smart girl.” His fingers kneed into you, dragging red marks to surface when one of his hands coming down with spite to the meat of your ass.
For a moment, he says nothing as you feel the presence of his palms leave your body. As you’re about to twist your head around to look for him there are strong hands gripping each of your thighs, fingertips clutching into your soft flesh. He yanks you back to him where his wet and heated mouth presses flush to your pussy with a craving to taste you, to slurp you.
“Sh-shit, Tae!” you cry out with surprise but also with ecstasy. His rough tongue licks into you, around you, and flicks harshly at your clit. Your thighs tremble in his hold and the vibrations of his muffled, sloppy moans tingle your lower bits in a fantastic sensation. He greedily drags you against his face, burying himself as deep as possible as he mixes your arousal with his saliva, wetness completely dripping down his chin while lapping into you with hunger.
Casually, he guides a palm to your front to cuff the round of your lower stomach, rubbing soft circles into the area. “Feel good?” He grunts through the movements of his tongue but you hear his rough voice loud and clear.
You whine out your pleasure, gasping at the electric pulses itching your clit when he suddenly sucks it between his lips. “Oh my god, Tae!”
Before you can feel the knot in your stomach tighten anymore, Taehyung robs you swiftly from the idea of even climaxing by removing his face from your quivering pussy. You have no options of protest, not with the way Taehyung presses the lines of his body against your own as he flips you right on your back. He feels frantic. You feel frantic. Touching every inch and open skin areas between the both of you.
“Tae, put it in me,” you moan as his teeth sink dangerously into your shoulder at the request.
“Fuckin’ beg,” he curses, hand twisting the bud of your nipple. You feel another excitable wave of arousal seeping around your entrance but it catches on the blunt, rounded, tip of your husband’s heady cock which rubs between your pussy lips. “You want my dick?”
He bites you once more, this time your cleavage earns a red ring from his teeth, at the sounds of your wanton moans, hips jutting up against his to persuade him inside.
“Ah! Please, oh fuckin’ please, put it in,” you beg, keening at his tender kisses around the bruising marks he has littered on your body. Your hands comb to his hair, nails scratching nicely at his roots.
“I told you earlier, let me show you how to make a baby.” Taehyung teases with the dip of his swollen cock, tilting his hips to allow just the tip to slip inside of you and pulls back. “You want that babe? Want to see how I plant my seeds into your weeping pussy? Want to remember how I fucked a baby into you?”
His words leave you breathless, mind going blank at any other thoughts besides Taehyung. He and you already know – very aware actually – that you’re currently pregnant and growing child number two inside your womb as you speak, but the act of the deed itself seems to rile Taehyung more than anything.
Your legs lock around his hips, trying to meet up against him as your body pleas for him to fill you up, cover you everywhere. “Yes, please show me,” you clutch onto him with all your might, leaving open-mouth kisses to any part of his skin you can reach. “Fill me up again, Taehyung. Please give me your children.”
He likes that – your eagerness and willingness while taunting you with the constant stretch of his thickest part of his dick, repetitively using the mushroom-shaped head to push and pull in and out of you, all the while he smiles down at your pleading, and desperate face. “Sound so hot, Y/n,” he growls into your ear. “Look so fuckin’ hot like this. Swelling in your stomach and everything. God, how the hell did I get so lucky?”
It’s nearly pathetic at the way you cry out for him to shove his entire length into you. You want it – you want him to completely make a mess of you. “Please, fuck me.”
Taehyung rolls his hips in a perfect glide, feeding you and your desires with every single inch of his beefy cock until he’s snug to the hilt. Your hands didn’t have any guidance, searching for purchase to anchor yourself on his shoulders as Taehyung tests out a few more steady thrusts, each one slinking straight back to the deepest parts of your cunt.
“Fuck, you feel so fuckin’ good,” Taehyung groans as his pace picks up, his face presses into the junction of your neck and shoulder and his fingers dig into your ass cheeks where he locks you in place. His weight pins you down, giving him all access to openly pound into you with a relentless speed. “Fuck, Y/n.” You whimper at a particularly hard thrust, holding your lips tight against another to prevent your vocals from being too loud – not wanting to possibly wake Yejun in the mist of this.
Taehyung continues to impale you on his cock, spearing him into you in a bruising manner. Through years and years of practice, Taehyung knows the expert keys to hit when it comes to fucking you to bliss, nailing every single action to have you mewling with pleasure beneath him.
You spur him further with the red streaks you leave in your nail’s wake down the back of his shoulders. “Oh god, p-please don’t stop,” you gasp as he goes even rougher, the bed beneath you creaks with anger as Taehyung is nearly drilling you into the memory foam. A strangled, guttural, moan breaks through his teeth as he feels you clench sporadically around him, your walls clamping tighter around him just as your limbs do.
“I’m so close,” you promise. Chanting into his ear with promises of you nearing the end of your race. The constant banging of his pelvis into your exposed, swollen cunt has you on edge – just the right flick will have you reeling with orgasmic pleasures.
You feel Taehyung shift his legs beneath yours and suddenly he lifts your back off the bed as his thighs support your ass. He uses gravity to lift and drop you straight back onto his cock in a rushed rhythm, fingertips embedding into the flesh of your ass with his tightening grip.
“Ah, fuck, fuck,” you squeal for Taehyung who is chasing your mouth with his, wanting to swallow all your moans to keep you hush while you wrap around his dick like a vice. Your clit bangs flat against him in just the right way and your body rushes to grind down into Taehyung as you cum around his pulsating cock.
He slams his hips up into yours, trying to match your frantic and uneven, wavering hips and drive you through the tasteful orgasm. “That’s right babe, lose yourself on me. Drench my dick and I’ll fill you up. You want that?”
Your moans rend you speechless momentarily, only vigorously nodding your head is the gesture you can affirm to Taehyung. Your legs flutter around his frame with aftershocks and oversensitivity.
“Please fill me up,” you beg breathlessly, “look how good you treat me.” Your eyes flicker down past your bouncing tits to your stomach.
Taehyung matches your line of sight, watching the scene of your whole frontal view on full display for him – your well-rounded tits, the slight bump on your lower half, and the disappearing of his entire cock into your creaming cunt. The mixture turns his mind into mush and enthusiasm.
His hands pin you down onto his lap, his stiff dick submerged entirely into your spent cunt. With a slacked mouth he breathes out heavy, feeling your walls contract sporadically around him. You feel so full, the dull ache of his member resting inside of your tightened cunt has you arching your back. Every twitch of his cock forces a responsive tensing of your own pussy, your body feeling high with the coursing endorphins flooding your system.
“Again.” He requests, eyes cutting through you with ardent passion. “Hold my cock and fuck yourself on me.”
His lewd words strike a feeling between your legs to match the spank of his hand to your backside. He grunts to your lack of movement at first, using his strength and leverage below you to jab himself up into you. You comply with a hard grind, rolling your hips against him in a slippery mess below you. You glide effortlessly against him, hypersensitivity forcing you to be more vocal than usual to the point where Taehyung shoves two fingers into your mouth to pinch down your tongue.
“You need help, Y/n?” He quizzes you, a smug smile pulling across his face. “Want me to get you there again?”
Your mouth is occupied by nimble fingers while dragging your jaw down for you to speak. The noise you attempt to make sounds nothing like the imploring ‘yes’ you want to cry out, though Taehyung understands how greedy you’re being.
With the dejection of his fingers he places the saliva coated digits behind you towards the tight rimmed muscle of your ass. “Keep movin’,” he moans as he applies pressure to your anus with the help of your spit. Instantly you tighten at the feeling, laying your forehead against his, prevented from rising off him at the intrusion from his steel lock down of your thighs.
“You’re a mess,” he comments, fingers dancing around the muscle until he sinks them further to test your limits.
Clenching relentlessly around him you moan wantonly, clit bruising against his pelvis as your hips gyrate forward. Slippery, wet, arousal leaks on Taehyung’s thighs and the bottom side of yours and you find yourself swaying against the approaching climax that busts open your walls. You spaz around your husband, mouth rambling profanities and your vision is faltering for mere seconds until your limp body drops to the bed, Taehyung’s cock slipping out as you do so.
You’re breathing heavy. He’s breathing heavy. And with the lift of one of your legs, Taehyung pretzels himself into you, inserting his lengthy meat straight into your core while holding your limb to his chest. His thrusts are nonstop, disciplining your pussy into submission as you’re a babbling brook beneath him.
“T-Tae!” You hiccup between sobs, body jarring up with every strike of Taehyung’s hips. A dull ache tickles your insides, his cockhead steadily dragging itself against your thickest of walls and to the deepest crevasses of your pussy.
“Look at this fuckin’ mess.” His hand gropes down to your exposed clitoris, pinching the small bundle of nerves until you’re screaming his name on repeat. “Dirty. Filthy.” He growls with each thrust, balls slapping firm against you.
“Yes, I’m filthy,” You look at Taehyung with tears pricking the corners of your eyes, flushed cheeks, and sweat decorating your skin. His hair is disheveled above his head, muscles flexing through his biceps and abdomen while he holds you against his body when he swivels his pelvis into you. His teeth find their way into your skin once again and you drone out the pain. “Make a mess of me.”
“Ah, sh-shit!” he shouts as cum shoots out of him and paints the inside of your walls. He holds you still against him, trembling as his cum jets out and continues to cream up your insides. He stuffs you full – so fucking full – securing all his white fluids deep to your cervix with a ragged breath.
Taehyung refuses to detach from you, nestling himself completely as he searches for a comfortable position to rest. He glances down at the mess below the two of you, shiny slick covers too much surface but it only causes him to coo to the sight.
You sigh at the faint whine from outside of the room, Yejun notifying the two of you that he is very well awake and need of assistance. Taehyung and you exchange a look, an expectant look, one that battles the argument of ‘who’s going?’.
“I put him to bed,” Taehyung retorts with a pout.
“And you just put your cum in me.”
You feel Taehyung twitch but you look pass that and onto the bigger picture here. You settle with yourself, trying to move away and unfasten yourself from the speared dick wedged inside of you to leave the bed. He holds you still, not wanting to unhinge just yet, and pulls you close to him for a smooth, soft kiss. His palm cradles around your face, thumb brushing against the apple of your cheek.
“I love you,” he whispers before pulling away and out of you. “Keep my cum inside you.”
You shake your head, wiggling out of his grasp and catching your bearings as your feet plant to the floor. You wobble slightly until you reach the silk robe that hangs off your door to wrap around your frame. Already you feel the slow drip from your pussy lips to the tops of your thighs, the threat of his cum oozing out of you has begun.
“Start the shower,” you direct as you exit the room and across the hall to Yejun’s cracked door. You peer in to see Yejun sitting in his crib with the saddest look to his wide eyes as he stares through the mesh of the fabric to the floor. The glowing room filled with cutout silhouettes of safari animals spin around to the sound of a dull ambiance noise, his binky that should have been snapped to his pajamas lays across the floor.
Yejun sees you and instantly points to the item; you pick it up swiftly without bending too far down – a squirt of cum spilling out as you straighten back up. It’s uncomfortable, the horde of goop between your trembling legs, and thank god that Yejun only needed his binky. He sucks on the nipple of the item, eyes instantly shutting as he leans back onto the large bear behind him.
Returning to your shared bedroom, you see the crack of the master bathroom creeping bright light – the sound of running water filling the air. You call out to Taehyung. No response.
Pushing the door hesitantly open, you notice the outline of your husband’s body behind the sheer shower curtain. Head submerge directly under the pounding water.
He feels the sudden cool draft of air hit his legs from you pulling the curtain slightly, blinking his eyes open as he leans out of the waterfall to look at you. “Ah, ah, ah.” His hand shoots out, water droplets scattering across your robe while your hand goes to unfold the knot in the front.
Taehyung leans further out of the shower to replace your hand, tugging the fabric open to look at the upsetting shine that trickles down your inner thighs. His hands are on you fast, tugging you into the shower just as he strips you clean from the silk material. “What am I going to do with you? Letting my cum just freely leak out of your pussy?” He tsks you, hand swiping up the sliver of space between your legs and straight to your cunt.
He backs you flat against the cool tiled wall, making the heated water combination contradict against another. “I had to go to Yejun,” you laugh but you feel the hotness of Taehyung’s glare not so funny.
“Seems like I need to reshow you how to make a baby.”
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we’ll get away with everything -
(A future!Laszlo Kreizler x Reader fic, set approx. 20 years after the events of The Alienist and the urges we can’t admit. 18+)
The first item off the Tasting Menu for Rarae’s Earth Sign Do-or-Die Birthday Bash!!
warnings: smut, minors DNI; blatant talk of eugenicist bullshit (including using it to mock the person espousing it, but just in case), antagonist is blatantly awful and ableist before he gets his just desserts, mild threats of institutionalization. penetrative sex, no stated use of protection (wrap thine shit people), semi-public sex, slight exhibitionism if you squint, v v brief mention of mommy kink, explicit discussion of fluid exchange.
general: Reader is the older version of the Reader from my ongoing Alienist multichapter, the urges we can’t admit. you don’t have to have read ch. 1, but it might help. this fic also alludes to some of the events yet to come in urges, so if you read something and can’t remember it from the other story, you’re okay. ;) Featuring femme!Reader, curvy!Reader, older!Reader and Laszlo, silver fox!Laszlo, Laszlo with a sword, Laszlo being outraged on behalf of a blatant and horrible misuse of psychology, and Reader engaging in far more public swordplay than was likely allowed for women in the 1910s, eccentric or not. just go with me on this one, it’s cathartic. discussion of skin and hair is kept neutral as always, no use of y/n.
I’ve had so much fun writing this one, and I hope it shows!!
It had been a perfectly ordinary visit to Delmonico’s, up until you’d gotten up to leave.
It had started like a fairy tale, if you were being honest. It was a gorgeous late Sunday afternoon, the first stirrings of Autumn starting to make themselves known throughout New York - as Laszlo had insisted Stevie take the scenic route past Central Park on the way to the restaurant, you had admired the leaves on the trees starting to fade from green to gold. Mothers and nannies supervising children on the lush grass had shivered at a passing breeze, tightening shawls around their own shoulders or pressing little arms into previously shed coats.
You, on the other hand, had been quite comfortable. Not just because you were carefully tucked into a warm wool blanket inside the calash, but because you were sitting arm-in-arm with your husband, snuggled into the fur collar of his favorite black coat. While maybe it wasn’t the most modern thing in his closet anymore, Laszlo had remained steadfast in wearing it, refusing to trade it out for something that reflected the changing cut of the new decade.
“I met you in this coat,” he’d say stubbornly, noticing you smile whenever you helped him into it.
“I know, Las,” you’d taken to replying. “But the whole point was that I took it off you soon after, remember?” His shy silence and corresponding blush, even after all these years, still made you grin like the first night he’d found himself in your room at Mrs. Williams’s.
You could have never imagined how that night would have led to this - something as simple as sitting with your hand in his, feeling his gloved thumb trace the stitching of yours, the occasional rub of his gold wedding band nestled underneath the fabric. When you thought he wasn’t looking, you glanced up at him through your lashes. Much like the trees in the park, he was wearing this new season of your lives extremely well; the last twenty years had introduced a new, dashing silver to his dark hair and beard, still carefully groomed after all this time. When it had first started happening, he’d attempted to hide it with dyes and tinctures for a while, secretly concerned with showing his age but too proud - and a touch too vain - to admit it. It was only when you’d (very carefully, with studied casualness) expressed disappointment that he took such pains to disguise it, saying you thought it handsome and distinguished, that he’d finally abandoned such measures altogether. You couldn’t help but admire how it suited his noble countenance, how wise and regal it made him look. He was a little softer around the edges now - years of a loving marriage and good food would do that to any man - but you never doubted he was still very much the brilliant, occasionally bitter Alienist who had wandered into your chambers that evening so long ago.
You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, wondering what the young woman you’d been then would say if you told her that shy, thoughtful man who didn’t know how to ask for what he wanted would slowly become the love of her life.
It wasn’t that the last decades weren’t showing on you as well - your hair was finding its own streaks of gray and silver, each year adding a touch more “starlight,” as Laszlo called it affectionately, than the last. Your own moment of stubbornness had been adopting spectacles into your daily wear, at first only using them when you absolutely had to, sneakily and when Laszlo and your friends the Isaacsons and the Schuyler-Moores weren’t around. When he’d finally caught you with a book barely an inch from your nose one day, Laszlo had quietly but firmly hinted that he thought you looked charming when you wore your eyeglasses, that they made you look serious and studied in a way he found quite flattering. That clever bastard. But you had finally given in, at least quietly reassured that you could be honest about yourself and your new limitations, and the man who took your breath away would still be smitten with you.
That was what marriage had turned out to be all along, really: the two of you each having found someone who still was madly in love with them, even when you were both becoming someone new.
“…Are you going to tell me what you’re thinking, szerelmem, or are you just going to stare?” Laszlo murmured, startling you slightly. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, the slightest smile curling at the corner of his mouth. “You’re not subtle, my dear.”
You hummed thoughtfully, pretending to deliberate for a moment before grinning cheekily. “I don’t think I’ll tell you, Dr. Kreizler, no,” you said, settling your chin against his shoulder so you could press a kiss to his cheek. “I think instead I’ll just sit here and continue to think about how fortunate I am to have such a handsome dinner companion.”
Laszlo chuckled, the faintest wash of pink coloring his cheeks - something you couldn’t help but find adorable even now. “If you’re trying to talk your way into dessert, Mrs. Kreizler, it will take a bit more than base flattery,” he teased. You couldn’t help but notice how his smile grew as he called you that - as much as it still made your heart flutter, there were times you’d almost swear he liked saying it even more than you liked hearing it.
“Oh, will it now?” You teased in turn, kissing the line of Laszlo’s jaw instead of his cheek next. “I think I can think of something that might help make my case…”
You felt your husband shiver just slightly underneath his coat. “Maybe not where Stevie could see, my dove,” he whispered, though he did make sure to kiss your forehead. “We don’t want to scandalize the poor lad too much, lest we have to find another driver.”
“Yes, because me kissing my husband the thing that will scandalize poor Stevie after all these years in your service,” you laughed, playfully swatting his arm. “Not the mutilated bodies, not you specializing in hunting down multiple killers, not you marrying your—“ You continued to giggle as Laszlo shushed you, turning to take your face in his hands so he could quiet you with a kiss of his own.
“I married my wife,” he said quietly when he pulled away, his eyes soft as he gazed into yours. “That’s all that’s left for anyone to say on the matter.”
You felt yourself bite your lip for just a moment, your fingers intertwining with his as he cradled your face. Though you’d settled comfortably into life with Laszlo, there were still moments where you suddenly felt like the girl you’d been when you’d first been courting, unsure how willing you were to risk your reputation hurting the man who came to love you.
He must have seen this in your eyes, because he smiled, the corners of his own crinkling behind his glasses. “And I’d do it again in a heartbeat, should she ever ask.”
You rolled your eyes, which only made him chuckle. “We already renewed our vows ten years ago, my dear Doctor. I’d say you’re well past needing to prove anything to me.”
“Or it just means we’re due for another renewal soon,” Laszlo countered. “Call it an occasion to have everyone over for tea and cake.”
This new social streak of Laszlo’s had taken some getting used to, after the two of you had been married for some years. It had started around the time John and Sara had moved further upstate, looking to raise their daughter on the estate where Sara had grown up, and only increased when Cyrus had at last retired from bartending to assume a quiet life of feeding ducks in the park and playing chess every so often. While Marcus and Esther still lived in the city with their own children, Lucius taught at the nearby university, and you saw the Schuyler-Moores often enough on weekends they came into town, there was something about the scattering of your little band that had seemed to rattle him somewhat. He looked for reasons to assemble the group again at the drop of a hat, from reunions of the first class of the Kreizler Institute (many of his former wards now with children of their own) to something as simple as a picnic on the first day of summer. He’d been a little disappointed when none of them were available to join the two of you for dinner tonight, but he had done his best to hide it, just as you were doing your best to make the evening an opportunity for some public (but not too public) displays of affection - to remind him that you two often had plenty of company between the pair of you.
“…I’ll consider it,” you said, pretending to think very deeply on the matter. His face lit up, and you had to suppress another giggle to keep your facade in place. “On one condition.”
“Name it,” Laszlo said, taking your hand in both of his and looking at you with a mock-seriousness of his own. “And on my honor, I shall bend heaven and earth to see it fulfilled.”
You were doing your best not to be the first one to smile as the two of you stared at each other with such gravely solemn expressions, clearly trying to get the other person to crack. “I will require cake this evening,” you said, with all the seriousness of pronouncing you needed life-saving surgery. “If we are to even begin to consider cake for renewing our vows in the future.”
Laszlo sighed as if you had asked him to bring you the British Crown Jewels. “If it is what mein Engel needs,” he said, staring solemnly still at your hand. “Then what choice do I have?”
The two of you gazed at each other for a moment more before, in unison, you at last gave way to laughter, you leaning your forehead against his shoulder as you found yourself overcome with a fit of giggles.
“I had you that time, cherie,” Laszlo grinned, kissing your temple.
“Nearly, my love,” you agreed, straightening up as you collected yourself and adjusting your glasses on your face. “But I believe you’ll find-“
A quiet knock on the door of the calash startled you both, turning around to see Stevie - quite handsome, now that he had grown into his features - waiting somewhat sheepishly outside.
“Whenever you’re ready, Dr. Kreizler,” he said, adjusting his hat and glancing away. “We’re here, sir.”
“Ah. So we are,” Laszlo agreed, a bit sheepishly himself as you both realized you’d not only arrived, but Stevie had parked. “Thank you, Stevie.”
Stevie merely nodded, opening the door for you and extending a hand. “Mrs. K.”
“Stevie,” you greeted sweetly, and you saw just the hint of a smile as he carefully handed you down to the sidewalk with all the delicacy afforded a queen. You took a moment to reach up as Laszlo stepped down behind you, brushing a smidgen of dirt from Stevie’s cheek with a motherly instinct you’d only had for the children (grown and otherwise) of the Institute. “Now, remember to actually take time and taste your dinner, won’t you? I know you have places to be, but—“
“Liebling, leave him be,” Laszlo scolded gently, tapping the back of your skirts with his cane. “He’s a grown man, for heaven’s sake.”
“And he’d be growing still if he took the time to eat,” you shot back, but nonetheless gave Stevie a wink behind your glasses as you took Laszlo’s arm.
Laszlo gave you a warning look as you arranged yourself at his side, then sent Stevie a somewhat apologetic yet avuncular expression. “We should be done by nine, Stevie, barring any delays.”
“Of course, Doc.” Stevie nodded, returning your wink in the process. “You two enjoy your night.”
“We intend to,” Laszlo said. “If this one behaves herself. Come along, Schatzi.”
“I rather think you enjoy it more when I don’t behave myself, Las,” you said, allowing your Alienist to escort you inside as a doorman waited for the pair of you.
You hadn’t realized how thoroughly tonight would prove this assertion of yours.
You had, indeed, had cake, as your beloved had promised. There were hardly any traces of the slice left now, every crumb and morsel of icing having been collected from the plate with surgical precision as you’d alternated feeding him bites between the ones you took for yourself. In this moment, alone in the olive-colored private room (at Laszlo’s request, of course) - the two of you were seated side-by-side in the French style, Laszlo thoughtfully swirling some wine in his glass as you gazed dreamily into the candle in the middle of the table. Under the table, his right hand was resting on your knee over your skirts, thumb moving slowly over the lush fabric there.
“You were right, of course,” he said. “The cake was an excellent idea.”
“I usually am about such matters,” you said, unable to help the smirk that curled your lip as you too his hand under the table.
“About many things,” Laszlo murmured, and you looked over to find him staring at you fondly over the rims of his spectacles.
“What a rare treat, to hear this from the inimitable Dr. Kreizler.” You sat up somewhat, leaning forward in your seat to kiss him on the cheek. “What brought this on?”
Laszlo smiled, shrugging a shoulder languidly. “Simple observation, really. But mostly just… a reflection, on times past.”
You tilted your head somewhat, in imitation of his signature dissecting look. “Well, you’ve been right about plenty yourself, you know.”
Laszlo chuckled. “Imagine my relief to hear this from my own wife.” He lifted your hand from under the table, gently kissing your skin. Holding it there for a moment, he seemed lost in thought before he spoke again. “…You know I thought you would leave me, during our first case?”
You felt yourself let out a shocked, breathy laugh. “God, I hadn’t thought about that in… ages.” Your eyes went to the candle flame again before they found his. “When I was still at Mrs. Williams’s, god rest her soul?”
Laszlo nodded. “After the Linares abduction, yes.” He stroked his beard with his free hand, as he often did. “I’d never seen you so incandescently angry before.” He laughed softly under his breath. “Nor did I know you possessed such spectacular aim.”
You chuckled a bit sheepishly now. “Well, Las, if you had told me where exactly you’d chosen to conceal yourself, I wouldn’t have thought you were someone else - after all, we remember how that turned out for Polonius, do we not?”
Laszlo winced just slightly, and you sighed. “No, I know, I’m sorry,” you agreed, holding up your free hand before clasping it around his hand as well. “I still can’t read Hamlet after that either. At least, not the parts with Ophelia. But Las,” you went on. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t angry, then, because you were wrong.” You paused as he raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Well, not entirely. I…” you hesitated, choosing your words. “The only time I was truly angry, my love, was when I thought… you were in the case for the answer. For the perpetrator,” you lifted your hand, running your fingers through a silver streak in his beard. His eyes closed at the contact, leaning into your touch. “I was always attracted to your brilliance, Laszlo,” you said, and his eyes opened again. “But I fell in love with you for your humanity. I fell for the way you use that brilliance for the good of others. How you let your heart drive your work, at the end of it all.” You leaned forward again, kissing the tip of his nose, then his forehead, before you sat back to smile at him. “The only time I ever doubted you was when I thought you had forgotten that. And I was wrong, clearly.” You shrugged, gesturing around you. “Look at where we are.” Your smile turned into a cheeky grin. “And then think about how we started.”
Laszlo, already blushing slightly from the wine, only turned a deeper red. “I have been unspeakably lucky in that regard.”
“We have,” you corrected, leaning forward to touch your forehead to his. “And we continue to be.”
Laszlo hummed contentedly, squeezing the hand of yours he was still holding. “I propose, szerelmem,” he said softly, his voice like dark velvet. “That we make our way home, and revisit our… spectacular history.”
You kissed his hand, looking at him over the rims of your glasses. “I’d be delighted to, my darling.” You paused, thinking it over. “Although I don’t quite know if I can manage my heels tonight - the turn of the season is giving my knee fits.”
“I enjoy it just as much without, Liebling,” he reassured you, reaching up to run a hand over your hair. “I was going to propose using the softer restraints tonight myself.”
“That sounds lovely,” you leaned into his touch, feeling like you were glowing slightly between his attention and the wine. Though, speaking of which… “I think I’ll excuse myself just briefly, Las - you’re welcome to flag down Stevie, and I’ll meet you there?”
“Of course, cherie.” Laszlo rose with you, ever the gentleman as he pulled your chair out to give your skirts room to move.
As you slipped from the room, you felt his familiar gaze linger on your back, as it had for years since the first night in that parlor. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you made your way through the all-too-familiar back hall of Del’s, reflecting on what an unexpectedly wonderful constant this feeling had been throughout your life together.
It was walking back from the powder room that your hazy Sunday evening bliss was jarred, suddenly, by the sound of Laszlo’s raised voice, his accent somewhat thicker as it tended to get when he was under duress. Out of old habits, you reached for the spot under your skirt where you had worn your switchblade so long ago - only to find it empty, and cursed yourself quietly. You had stopped wearing it sometime after Laszlo had retired from his duties for the justice system, save for the rare juvenile offender he couldn’t help but advocate for. It had taken a couple years to feel like you didn’t have to look over your shoulder or his anymore, to assume there was no one waiting in a shadowy corner to come for one or the both of you on behalf of some rich old bastard trying to cover their own misdeeds, but now you rued your desire for a quieter life in retirement. You’d just have to go in and hope whoever it was harassing your husband wouldn’t expect someone your height and your age to have a right hook like yours.
As you rounded the corner, though, you realized the situation was rather the opposite: rather, Laszlo seemed to be very aggressively chewing out a younger man in the hallway outside the dining room, his nose an inch from the other man’s indifferent expression.
“-An absolute mockery of our profession. I don’t know how you sleep at night, you utter charlatan, when you condemn so many to a life of misery in the name of fascist nonsense. And another thing-“
Curious. Las wasn’t one to lose his temper at nothing - though he had become just a smidgen more crotchety with strangers in his old age, especially with young rich men. You made your way to Laszlo’s side, planting your hand gently on his chest and looping your other arm through his left, which was currently threateningly gripping the top of his cane.
“Mind your blood pressure, Schatz,” you murmured in his ear, before directing your gaze and a smile you hoped was more charming than threatening to the young man before him. “I don’t believe we’ve met. May I ask how you know my husband?”
“This is Dr. Henry Goddard, dearest.” Laszlo said, never moving his eyes from the other man’s face and practically spitting the name. “He’s the so-called psychologist who’s introduced the similarly dubious science of eugenics to entry exams at Ellis Island. I believe I’ve described it to you before: measuring children’s heads with calipers and diagnosing frightened young people as clinical ‘morons’ for their inability to speak English upon immediately entering the country.”
“Your husband has just been enlightening me as to his disagreements with my practice, Mrs. Kreizler,” Dr. Goddard said, with a wan attempt at a smile that came out a more disaffected grimace. His eyes shot back to Laszlo. “Though what a retired Alienist could possibly hope to know about the need to keep the American gene pool strong through selection for superior breeding is quite beyond me, I’m afraid.”
“Bullshit,” Laszlo snarled, taking even you by surprise. This was beyond even the alcohol, this was pure unfettered rage. “Everyone worth their salt in the discipline knows you doctor your results, Goddard, even if the press doesn’t. Your fake studies offer nothing but the separation of families and deportation and death for countless innocents. You will be remembered in infamy once people realize just what it is you’re peddling.”
At this, Goddard openly laughed, and your eyes cut to him. “If I may be candid, I think you’re just concerned you wouldn’t have made it through nowadays, Dr. Kreizler,” he said, affecting Laszlo’s accent at the pronunciation of your shared surname. You felt Laszlo’s spine straighten beside you, and you did the same, drawing yourself to your full height. Goddard glanced at Laszlo’s right arm, his smile now derisive. “We screen more carefully for defects under my guidance, you know. Can’t have our new citizens introducing weakness into the population. Not to mention,” he continued, not even noticing the way you openly gasped in revulsion. “Your… interesting predilections in your choice of companions.” He glanced back to Laszlo’s eyes, his grimace now a smirk. “My mentors all told me about your odd choice of staff, but your wife here… well, Mrs. Kreizler,” he said, glancing now to you. “You’re a marvel unto yourself, if the stories I’ve heard about your previous exploits are true. They’re fairly common knowledge in psychiatric circles, as I’m sure you know.” With a particularly smug expression, he tucked his hands into his pockets. “I can only imagine the deviance your combined genes would have expressed had you managed to actually have a child. Thank god, no?”
Laszlo hissed something in German you’d never imagined he’d ever say in public, whether people could translate it or not. His left arm pulled back hard, but you caught his fist, your hand on his chest pressing harder to prevent his swing. “Sssh, no no, dearest,” you soothed. “There’s no need for that on your part. Dr. Goddard is half-right, after all.”
Laszlo and Goddard both looked to you, Laszlo alarmed, Goddard’s eyes lighting up with interest. “Szerelmem?”
“No, do go on,” Goddard said, suddenly chipper. He glanced at Laszlo, and you could see the little gloating smile growing on his face. “I didn’t realize you were a subscriber to the theory of eugenics yourself, madam.”
“It’s hard to disagree with certain truths,” you said evenly, smoothing your hand down the front of Laszlo’s dinner jacket. “My husband is, truthfully, of quite a fine lineage… Hungarian and German aristocrats, a family of scholars and artists. Not that it’s any of your business,” you glanced disinterestedly in Goddard’s direction. “But he suffered an injury in childhood, not a congenital condition. He’s what people who subscribe to your little theory would consider an ideal candidate for citizenship.” You leaned up, kissing Laszlo’s cheek. “I’ve always thought he was perfect, myself.”
Laszlo looked at you, dark eyes uncomprehending and if anything, a bit panicked. “My love, you cannot possibly see sense in any of this dreck, this heartless-“
You placed a hand on his cheek, meeting his eyes for a moment and quirking an eyebrow as if to say ‘Trust me.’ He fell silent, still a bit hurt as he stared at you.
You turned to Goddard and tilted your head hard to the right so your neck popped loudly, startling both men. “I, on the other hand,” you said with a false brightness. “Am a veritable mutt of questionable origins, with a dubious bloodline prone to what people in your field would diagnose as a tendency for being overemotional and utterly incapable of civility. A blemish on the face of polite society due to my ancestry, you might say,” you continued, reaching over to grasp the head of Laszlo’s cane - and twisting to reveal the blade concealed within, a shortsword he’d kept for protection since shortly after he’d begun courting you. The two men balked as you held it aloft, running your free hand experimentally up the blade. “I’m not only heinously deviant, sir, I’m unstable, improperly masculine for my sex, argumentative, needlessly antagonistic in the face of perceived authority…” Your eyes met his, and you let yourself really grin. “And dangerously unpredictable. Not that I can control any of this, of course. Genetics being what they are,” you said with an exaggerated moue of mock sadness. “Truly, I might be exactly the sort of thing you’d reject outright, if I ever tried to cross your precious border.” You spread your arms wide in a shrug before casually tapping the point of the sword against his chest, leaving it there to press just enough to indent the fine silk of his shirt. “You’re more than welcome to test your theories at your leisure, of course,” you added, smiling sweetly.
Goddard was backing up, eyes nearly the size of eggs and his palms held up in a show of surrender. “You, madam, are mad — utterly mad. I should have you committed,” he stammered, looking to Laszlo. “She should be locked up, away from- from decent people.”
Laszlo, at this point, was outright fighting a grin, his hands resting atop the hollow case of his cane. He shrugged his shoulders, feigning surprise. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Goddard; I’ve yet to see anything indicative of madness or deficiency. And I am the expert,” he added, his eyes narrowing somewhat. He studied his nails with affected boredom. “Besides, my wife is only exhibiting characteristics that your own science claims are impossible for her to avoid manifesting. Bad blood, after all. Totally unaccountable for her own actions, poor dear.”
“I’m just a hapless victim to my own parentage,” you agreed, flicking the blade upward so it pointed directly at Goddard’s nose. “Now, would you like to reconsider whether or not you want to apologize to my husband?”
“How dare you-“ Goddard looked scandalized, until you dropped the sword lower, now below the belt. “I apologize, Dr. Kreizler” he ground out, still nervously eyeing the blade. “I was… perhaps out of line.”
“You were beyond the pale,” Laszlo said, all pretense gone and anger shining in his onyx eyes. “And if you ever insult my wife like that again, so help me, I’ll let her do exactly what she wants with you.”
Dr. Goddard, still apparently not having learned his lesson, openly sneered. “Let your bitch fight your battles for you, do you?”
You swiped upwards, so abruptly that it was only the shimmer of the blade that announced your strike. Goddard yelped, flinching backwards and frantically patting his waistcoat as he searched for a wound. “What did you do to me?! What did you do?!”
You stood back, satisfied as you set the flat of the blade against your shoulder. Laszlo frowned, leaning over slightly. “What did you do, dearest?” he whispered.
A moment later, his question was answered, as the front of Goddard’s trousers fell open and fluttered apart to reveal his underthings. Frantic, he seized at the fabric, trying desperately to keep it together as the tear continued to reveal itself and the legs of the trousers began to slide down his thighs. “I-I’ll have you arrested,” he stammered, glaring at you. “People like you shouldn’t be allowed to walk the street.”
“This man bothering you, Mrs. Kreizler?” said a voice with a thick Brooklyn accent.
You and Laszlo turned, finding a small group of Delmonico’s employees - waiters, hosts, bus boys, and even one or two kitchen workers - gathered behind the pair of you to spectate. You blinked, looking sheepishly for a moment between them and Laszlo. “Oh, Julian!” you said, recognizing the leader. “We were just- well, I-“
“Hey now,” Julian - your waiter for this evening and the man who spoke originally - leaned to look over your shoulder with a frown, sighting Goddard. “We can’t have perverts in here, sir. Especially not around ladies. This is a class establishment, we can have you arrested like that.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis.
“I- She attacked me!” Goddard said, his voice suddenly high with rage. He gestured furiously to you. “She’s literally holding a weapon, you nimrod!”
Julian looked to you, indeed standing there with the sword in your hand. “All I see is a lady trying to defend herself from some clown,” he said, looking with a straight face back to Goddard. “Dr. and Mrs. Kreizler have been some of our best patrons for years. They don’t make trouble.” He glanced at the pair of you, giving you a sly wink.
You returned it with a grin, your shoulders relaxing in your relief.
“How- I’ll- Do you know who I am?!” Goddard barked, his face reddening considerably as he tried to hold his trousers together. “You better hope no relative of yours comes through my facility, young man, I’ll-“
“I’m sorry, Doc. Ma’am,” Julian said, speaking remarkably calmly over Goddard’s furious spluttering. “I’ll have this man escorted out right away. I’m sure Mr. Delmonico will want to hear about some deviant accosting you at dinner, we’ll make sure it never happens again.”
“You idiots!” Goddard snarled, trying both to hold his hands up and avoid the other waiters gathering around to grab his arms. “I’ll have this place closed, I’ll ruin the lot of you, I’ll- this isn’t over, Kreizler!” he called, as he was swiftly hoisted up and carried down to the first floor by a group of rather cross-looking waiters, whom he continued to loudly insult as he was carried through the public dining room - the titters and whispers of which you could hear even as you stood at the top of the stairs. You fought back a giggle, certain this would be something that fed the upper echelon’s social gossip cycle for at least a month.
Julian stood with folded arms, watching as the others carried off Goddard before he made to follow them. He turned to the pair of you as he passed, giving you a nod. “I’ll go ahead and call for your driver. You two take your time getting your bearings - I’m sure that was quite a shock,” he added, unable to help the slight upturn of a smile at the end.
“Thank you, Julian,” Laszlo said, reaching out to shake the younger man’s hand.
Julian shook it, nodding again. “Anytime, Doc - my older sister still talks about you two and her time at the Institute.” The smile flickered a little. “That guy probably wouldn’t have even tried to help her, y’know?”
Laszlo nodded, his expression grim. “Yes, well… some are more focused on finding problems than identifying needs.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Julian said, smiling politely. “I’ll be back when Stevie’s ready. Ma’am,” He took your hand briefly, giving you a respectful nod before following the shouts downstairs to handle the problem.
You watched Julian go before you exhaled, flipping the sword around to hand it back to Laszlo by the hilt. “I’m so sorry to make a scene, Las,” you said, turning to look at him. “I know how much you dislike such displays, but I wasn’t about to stand for-“
Laszlo took the sword, sheathing it hastily within his cane again before pulling you into a rough kiss and cutting you off.
You squeaked in surprise, leaning back a moment. “Laszlo!” You felt heat rush to your cheeks as you looked around, making sure no more waitstaff were around to watch this sudden display of affection. “What’s gotten into you?”
Laszlo’s eyes were dark with his expanded pupils, his cheeks flushed as he gazed at you. “Szerelmem,” he said, his voice low and somewhat breathless. “I didn’t think it was possible to surpass my affection for you, but I have never been more attracted to you than I am at this moment.”
Unable to help yourself, you laughed softly as you gazed up at his earnest, ardent expression. “What on earth brought this on, darling?”
Laszlo, looking around himself, quickly pulled you back into the empty dining room you’d just exited before pushing you against the wall. “You were divine,” he whispered, pressing hasty kisses across your cheeks and down your jaw. “You showed the grace and power of Hippolyta, of Diana, perhaps moreso - even a warrior queen couldn’t have put that fraud in his place as well as you just did.”
“Laszlo, we’re lucky I didn’t get us banned for life,” you whispered, but bit your lip as he kissed his way down your neck towards the collar of your dress. “Or get arrested.”
“I don’t care,” Laszlo murmured, his right hand pressing the small of your back so you were flush against him, his left carefully pulling your dress down so he could nip at your clavicle. “It was well-deserved, and that pompous little brat won’t forget such a lesson anytime soon.” He messily kissed the corner of your mouth. “It was a rare, shining moment of justice in the universe, even if only briefly.”
“I didn’t realize spontaneous swordplay appealed to you so, Doctor.” You smiled wickedly as you cupped the growing bulge under his bespoke trousers, causing him to inhale sharply through his teeth. “Otherwise I might have tried fencing bigots in public years ago.”
“Schatzi,” Laszlo nearly whined, his hips bucking just slightly into your palm as they sought friction. “Please, dearest. You have me at a disadvantage.”
“You’re the one who cornered me, my love,” you pointed out, your voice a mockery of innocence. You leaned up to suck his lower lip, your hand moving slowly up and down his shaft over the fabric.
Laszlo’s hips jerked again, and he pushed you hard back against the wall, his hands on either side of your head. “You’re going to ruin me, Mrs. Kreizler.”
He bit his lip to muffle a whimper as you undid his fly and reached down to free his achingly hard cock, already dripping. With a salacious lick of your hand, keeping eye contact with him the whole time, you rubbed your thumb over his slit to watch his eyes roll back slightly. You laughed softly, watching him struggle to keep quiet as you began to slowly pump your hand.
“I’d say I’ve already ruined you, Doctor,” you whispered, keeping your tone light as you increased speed. Laszlo shivered, his hips moving to meet your hand. “You wouldn’t have been caught dead doing this when I first met you, and now look at you.” You licked a stripe up his neck, listening to his shaking exhale. “The renowned Alienist reduced to some needy, wanton thing in public because you simply can’t help yourself around me.”
“I love you,” Laszlo moaned quietly, twitching hard in your hand. “God, I love you. Of course I’m helpless, I’ve been madly in love with you for years, szerelmem, I—“ he bucked hard against your grip, switching to German and beginning to lose coherence.
“There now, sweetheart,” you cooed. You grabbed his shirt collar, pulling him around so you had him pinned against the wall. Maintaining your rhythm, you hastily hiked up your skirts with your free hand until you could put your hips flush to his. Bringing the head of his cock to your dripping cunt underneath your skirt, you traced your slit up and down with it, watching Laszlo’s eyes widen as his breathing shallowed into panting. “See how you bewitch me just as much, Doctor?”
Laszlo hissed, and you felt him rut hard against your grip. “M-Mami—“
“Oh, yes,” you purred, kissing a line down his jaw. “Yes, Laszlo, I’ll let my good boy come inside me. We can’t have you making a mess, after all.”
You only stepped back enough to half-guide, half-shove him into a chair near the dining table, both of you stifling a moan as you straddled his lap and, with agonizing slowness, lowered yourself onto his achingly stiff cock.
As you settled, fighting a moan as you felt your walls adjusting to the heavy feeling of being filled, Laszlo pressed his face into your shoulder, his left hand suddenly gripping your hip like iron. His hips pushed up against yours, seeking friction, but you captured his lips in yours. “Careful, dearest,” you murmured, your hands finding their place on his shoulders. “I’ll take care of you, just leave it to me.”
“…For heaven’s sake, I’m not fragile, Schatzi,” Laszlo sighed, the powers of speech returning to him in his mild annoyance. “I’m not too old to fuck my wife.”
“No, you’re not,” you agreed. You rocked your hips over his, watching his head fall back with a soft moan. You pressed kisses to his exposed throat, taking advantage. “But I think we’ll both feel better if we don’t have to explain to Stevie how you’re leaving Del’s with a limp when you didn’t walk in with one.”
Laszlo was silent for a second, and for a moment, you thought he was simply lost in his bliss as you nipped quietly at his pulse under his skin. “…Perhaps you have a point, dragam.”
You laughed softly. “I do know what I’m doing when it comes to this, Doctor.” You gripped his lapel, pulling him upright to look at you.
“God, I know,” Laszlo growled quietly as he met your eyes. “And every day, I’m so grateful.” He kissed you, messily and with passion, and his hands came to grip your ass hard over the fabric of your skirt. With an insistent tug, he pushed you forward, causing you to stifle a quiet cry of surprise at the friction.
“Oh, if that’s how you want to play, then,” you whispered, grinning wickedly. You rocked your hips on him again, picking up your pace, and soon you were outright fucking yourself on him, panting softly as his hands were ll over you - from your ass, to your hips, tangling in your hair and down to your breasts again, as if he could never have enough of any one part of you.
“Las,” you whined softly, riding him as much as you could without making too much noise. You were worried someone passing by would overhear the obscene slick sound, despite the fact that your skirts hid anything from view. “Fuck, Las, I love you. You fill me so well, darling, you feel so good.” You bit down hard on your lip to stifle another cry when you felt him brush that soft spot inside you, angling your hips so you could keep him there. Seeking more, you rocked harder against him, to the point that your thighs were shaking just slightly under your dress.
“Goddess, please,” Laszlo begged, and you felt yourself clench around him at the nickname from your early days. “Please, I want… I…”
“Use your words, Doctor,” you breathed in his ear, licking a stripe up the shell of it. “You’re usually so good with those.”
He outright whined, his right hand coming to your cheek, his left taking a grip of your hips again. “Szerelmem, I-I want to come, I want you to come,” he said, broken through his panting. “I want to come inside you and I want to watch your face as you take it all, you’re beautiful, mein Engel.”
His left hand moved to grip your quivering thigh, and when he held it tight enough that you could feel his nails through your skirt, it was enough. As you felt yourself coming undone, spasming around the reassuring solid presence within you, you clutched his right hand as it rested against your cheek, pressing fervent kisses to his palm and using it to muffle the cries you couldn’t keep in. “Laszlo, Laszlo please, I want yours, give me yours—“
You felt Laszlo throbbing within you, his hips stuttering against yours, before at last he moved his hand aside to claim your mouth, muffling his sharp gasps as he bit down on your lower lip and sucked hard. You continued the rhythm you’d established as best you could, feeling him fill you with his release, feeling so much of it that a trace trickled down your thigh between the two of you, out of sight from the rest of the world.
Panting, you rested your forehead against his, your hands coming to tangle in his hair as you kissed him slowly through the aftermath. Laszlo’s arms encircled your waist, and he hugged you close as he returned your kisses with a sweet certainty.
“…You,” he said quietly, catching his breath. “Are such a troublemaker, Mrs. Kreizler.” He grinned as you pulled away to look at him, confused. “You have me undertaking all sorts of questionable misadventures in my dotage.”
“Speak for yourself, Doctor,” you teased, kissing the end of his nose. You leaned back, moving your glasses off your face and into your hair while you waited for them to clear from the heat between you. “Tell me, how far did that awful little man even get into his dining room before you began telling him off?”
Laszlo shrugged. “He didn’t. And I hope he starves. The bastard.”
“Cheers to that, cherie,” you agreed. You reached up, moving some damp strands of Laszlo’s hair out of his face, only to be caught by the warmth of his eyes at he gazed at you. “…What now, my love?”
Laszlo grinned again. “You were already terribly attractive, my dearest. But I think you even moreso when you’re defending my honor.”
“How fitting, because I’m always most smitten with you when you when you cause a scene in the name of compassion for our fellow man,” you countered, winking at him.
He laughed low in his throat, leaning forward to kiss your cheek again. You were enjoying this closeness - the warmth of him, the smell of sex and his cologne, the solidness of his chest against yours - when a knock from the door gave you both a start.
“Your calash is here, Doctor,” said Julian from outside. “And I took the liberty of bringing up your and Madam’s coats.”
“Thank you, Julian,” Laszlo called over his shoulder, glancing at you with the expression of a younger man worried about getting caught by his sweetheart’s father. “We’ll be right with you. We were just… polishing off the wine.”
“Of course, sir.” Julian agreed. “Take your time.”
Laszlo looked at you, trying hard to repress a laugh of guilt, which in turn made you break out into quiet laughter that you desperately tried to cover with your hand. This only got worse as Laszlo shushed you, checking nervously over his shoulder, until he himself at last couldn’t fight it off any longer. For a brief, wonderful moment, the two of you were simply intertwined, giggling like schoolchildren.
“We have to go, my love,” Laszlo pleaded with you, fighting to regain composure.
“I know,” you managed, your hand passing over your hair. “…But I can’t find my glasses.”
This just sent Laszlo into further fits of laughter as he plucked them gently from your head, which caused you to hide your face in your hands as what little seriousness you had achieved was quickly swept out from under you.
“…Sir? Are you and Madam well?” Julian asked tentatively, which immediately sent you both to the brink of tears as you fell again to laughing.
“We’re grand, Julian,” you called through the door, fighting to get yourself back under control. “Thank you, darling.”
At last, reluctantly and as carefully as possible, you and Laszlo separated. Still seated, he carefully straightened your skirts, pausing only to notice the shining strand of his release against your thigh. Wordlessly, you swiped it up, popping your fingertip into your mouth and holding his gaze.
Laszlo stared at you, agape for a moment, before he forced himself to take a breath and straighten himself up. By the time the two of you opened the door, you were perfectly respectable again. Or at least, as close to it as the pair of you got in the eyes of New York.
Julian helped you both into your coats, and you chatted idly with him as he escorted you both down the stairs and out to where Stevie waited, asking about his studies at NYU and his nieces and nephews.
When you at last reached the calash on the chilly sidewalk, you couldn’t help but notice Stevie and Julian exchange a smile for just a moment longer than usual. You and Laszlo exchanged glances of your own, repressing knowing smiles, but said nothing.
Stevie turned to the pair of you only when Julian left. “So, I heard Mrs. K pantsed an asshole.”
“Language, Stevie,” Laszlo scolded, but only half-heartedly.
“Sorry, Doc.” Stevie gave him a nod. “I was told Mrs. Kreizler forcibly removed the trousers from an asshole.”
You openly laughed as Laszlo gave Stevie a long, weary look, before shaking his head with a sigh. “Home then, please.”
“Yessir.” Stevie opened the door, taking your hand to help you up again. As you did, he winked at you once more. “Nice work, Miz K,” he whispered.
“Thank you, dear boy,” you whispered back, returning the wink as always.
“Stop encouraging each other in your delinquency,” Laszlo called from behind Stevie. The pair of you exchanged a grin, and you settled into your seat as Laszlo joined you inside. Once he and Stevie were seated, and he had tucked the flannel blanket over the pair of you, he rapped twice with his cane on the roof, and Stevie spurred the horses to action.
As you rode home in the gathering dark, you nestled into the shoulder of Laszlo’s coat yet again, and hummed appreciatively as he wrapped his right arm around your shoulders. “…I have to call and tell Sara tomorrow,” you said quietly, grinning up at him. “She’s never going to believe me.”
“Oh, I think she might,” Laszlo chuckled. He paused for a moment before glancing down at you again. “Only… maybe don’t tell her everything, szerelmem.” As you rolled your eyes indulgently, he leaned over, kissing your forehead. “I want to keep the best part just between us.”
(honest to god, I wish y’all could see how much I fucking smiled while I wrote this fic. apparently, my idea of true love is not only passionate fucking, but finding someone who regularly reduces you to laughing so much you can’t talk.
if you’ve read this far, you deserve a fantastic slice of cake <3)
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Spencer Reid x Female Reader
Summary: When Reader moves their stuff in to Spencer’s apartment they find photos that he kept over the years. One photo of the past springs up memories of Spencer’s precious relationship with Elle.
A/N: hey heeeyyy everybody- here’s a fic I’ve been really excited to share with everyone. It’s my eleventh fic for my 30 fics in 30 days!!! This was the original request (I made it a little different lol I hope you like it)I had a fun time with it mostly cause I totally think Spencer and Elle had something going on at some point 😉 Plus I got to incorporate older angsty post prison Spencer and mention how he used to be a little baby ☺️ I’m curious to hear y’all’s thoughts about the Reidaway ship, or really anything so feel free to drop an ask to my inbox here. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!
Warnings: 18+, Smut, Joking about being jealous???, Reidaway in the past, Spencer being sad about the people who’ve left him, Sub Spencer, Only a bit of dry sex, Masturbation, Unprotected sex, Use of a belt to restrain, A few taps on the cheek, Reader’s hand is around Spencer’s throat for a second
Main Masterlist Word Count: 3.2k
Reminiscing on the past was difficult depending on how the story had ended. Memories that may have been happy could turn too painful because of the ending result. Age turned the memories into unreliable accounts as well, unable to truly remember how things had been back then and how you had truly felt.
Memories were still something to hold onto and cherish even though they got twisted with age and opinion. Nostalgia, a sentimental or wishful affection for the past, was an addictive feeling even if it made you cry. It remained addictive even if most of your past memories had hurt you with no sentiment attached. Everyone always chased the euphoric feelings they had when looking at the ghosts of their past. Sometimes even when looking back you can find something that had once soured had turned sweet again.
Spencer had many memories that he was no longer able to look back upon for a host of reasons. Most often it was because he could no longer bear to look back on a memory of someone who had left him. Whether it was his Dad, Gideon, Hotch, Blake, Elle, and many others, looking back at them just made him often feel like everyone in his entire life had left him.
That wasn’t true of course, he still had his Mom- and you. Even with his Mom there were still many of his memories with her were still stained with guilt, though that had gotten better with time and with your help.
You had begun helping him find the benefit in looking back, trying to make the soured nostalgia a bit sweeter again. It was getting easier as time ticked by for him to open up to you about everything in his past, the good and the bad. At first you had been staring at a wall that he had been building higher and higher throughout the years, it was daunting how tall it was. When you helped take a sledgehammer to it, making it crumble beneath your effort, he pulled away for a while. He felt comfortable by himself behind his own Great Wall until you showed him the benefits of sharing the secrets he held behind it. But, you still stayed, helping him as much as you could until he was willing to open up.
It had been many months since you started your effort to help him break it down. At some point in the last months you had both fallen into a relationship, a romantic one. What had once been a platonic relationship forged from shared interests evolved into a romance emerging from the rubble of his wall.
He had even given you a key to his apartment at one point, which he had never done with anyone except the bureau. Emily was the one that really had it, but that was strictly for work reasons. This was a show of trust which was much more helpful than his wall that had reached the heights of a skyscraper.
A simple key soon turned into you staying at his place more often than at your own. You had casually mentioned one day while watching one of Spencer’s favorite documentaries that you basically lived here now. It was a true statement, most of the clothes you wore on a daily basis had been given a spot in his dresser and the toothbrush you kept there was not the one you used for travel- that one was at your place. You had begun to put your mark on Spencer’s life in a more permanent way than before.
When he had spontaneously suggested the next day that you should move in with him, you knew that your small comment had stuck in his brain. It was easy to agree to, you had said you basically already lived here, plus living with the love of your life sounded like a dream. You only had a few things that you wanted to bring over and it was mostly decorative stuff that you could’ve let go if Spencer hadn’t insisted that he wanted you to make the space your own.
While turning the space that was once solely Spencer’s into something for you both, you had found a small clear box with a blue lid, filled with pictures. Spencer didn’t have a lot of personal pictures framed, there was one with you and him by the bed, one with the team by his desk, one with him and Morgan on the living room wall, and one with you two and his Mom also hung up in the living room.
When you had shown him the box he could tell you were curious, letting you look through it without a moment of hesitation. In the past Spencer would have been wary sharing his memories with you, but now he’d let you look. If only you could get him to look at the box with you.
You weren’t surprised he didn't want to look with you once you saw the people littered throughout the snapshots. Varying people that had left were in most of them, even some you never met.
Ones with Hotch and Gideon- even one from a long time ago with his father buried at the bottom. As you browsed through them you were glad he was able to hang up that photo of him and Morgan, at least they had parted with some closure. It also helped that he still saw him regularly, he had never fully left like some of the people from his past.
One picture in particular stood out to you, it was another team photo, they seemed more carefree in this one compared to now. There was baby Spencer, before you had known him, in a birthday boy hat smiling with the rest of the team. You guessed it was around his 23rd or 24th birthday, going by the slick back gelled hair he had sported in his earlier years. He seemed so much more different back then, perhaps more carefree compared to now. But, he also seemed much more unsure of himself, maybe a bit self conscious. In the photo you could tell he was nervous, just by the look in his eyes. He still had that same look in his eyes whenever he felt nervous.
Then you looked closer at where his eyes were focused on, there was a clear line of sight from him to Elle. Elle was way less nervous in this captured moment compared to Spencer, though from what you had heard she had always been like that.
Your gaze on the photo was broken when Spencer then came into the living room where you were sitting on the couch.
You decided to test the waters to see if he might want to take a look at the photo with you, “Why do you look so nervous in this photo?”
He stopped the path he had been taking, then stood still for a second before deciding to sit next to you on the couch. Straining his neck he gazed over at the photo you were holding in your hands. It was silent for a while as he looked over it, stopping to look at his old team. Some of the team still remained intact, namely JJ, but she wasn’t the same as she had been all those years ago. You let him take it from your hands, so he could look at it closer. He cleared his throat a little, though his voice still came out slightly raspy when he spoke, though he didn’t answer the question you had asked him,“It’s the only picture I ever had taken with Elle…”
“I know you guys were- close.” You didn’t ask your previous question again, sensing that it was still too much to talk about in specifics. What he was telling you right now was even more than what he told you, only telling you that she was his first, everything. Any supplemental information was from talking discreetly to JJ about it one night because you were somewhat curious.
Tiptoeing around the relationship you knew that they had previously was like walking through a minefield. You tried the best that you could to avoid making him too upset. When you got him to open up, it wasn’t by forcing him to talk all at once. Busting the wall down was done brick by brick, not all at once.
“I’m glad you aren’t jealous of her.” His comment was said with less sadness than before. It was nice to see a glimpse of the weight coming off of his shoulders, even if it was just for a moment.
“What? Do you want me to be jealous of her?” You teased, lightheartedly so he wouldn’t dwell on the sad aspect of their past relationship. He smiled softly which deepened when you playfully stuck your tongue out and crossed your arms.
“No- you’ve got nothing to be jealous about…” Any playfulness in his voice was erased as his sentence trailed off. You didn’t say anything for a moment in case he wanted to continue his thought. And, after a moment of silence he did, “I haven’t spoken to her since she left…”
“I know- I was just joking about being jealous. I know how much she meant to you…” His eyes moved away from you, at first you thought it might be because he was still feeling the pain of losing her all those years ago. But, there was something else in his eyes, it naturally made you curious, “What are you thinking about?”
“If you were jealous- what would you have done?” His mind must have shifted away from thinking about the ending of his memories with Elle, which was a step in the right direction. At least he wasn’t avoiding the topic all together, he was still talking about her in a sense.
You bit your lip, thinking about what direction you could take this in. You weren’t going to lie, your mind had gone straight into the gutter at his suggestion and by the look on Spencer’s face so had his.
“Hmmm…” You pretended to ponder while you moved from where you were sitting on the couch to sit on something better, Spencer’s lap. Straddling him then with ease you looked down at his face tracing his cheeks with your fingers. His pupils were blown wide now, almost completely devouring his iris that had become a small ring. He didn’t say anything yet, waiting for you to continue your thought obediently, “I think I would do things to you that I suspect she never did.”
He gulped hard, hard enough that you could hear it. You continued to trace your fingers along his face, sometimes picking a lock of his hair to twirl, waiting for him to say something else like you knew he wanted to. It only took a few more seconds of your touches and your eyes staring into his own before he asked, “C-Can you show me?”
You stopped your movements, pausing for dramatic effect before crushing his lips onto your own. He squared into your mouth at first, clearly taken off guard by your sudden kiss. Before he had processed what was going on enough to let you, you forced your tongue into his mouth, earning you a delicious moan from him.
When you moved again suddenly, separating your mouth with his for just a moment, he tried to chase your lips. Pushing a finger to his lips you then used that to push him back into the couch, then answering his question, “Gladly.”
You kept your finger on his mouth to seal them shut. He could have opened it easily to respond to you, but he wanted to see what you might do next.
Instead of going back to kissing him you started to pull his belt off of him. It was difficult with one hand, taking much longer than it would be with two. But, you still kept your finger rested in the position most people use to shush someone.
Once the belt had finally been pulled from the belt loops of his slacks you finally removed your finger from his mouth. He still remained quiet, his eyes following your every move intently. You then went to work, pinning his hands above his head, then beginning to restrain them with his belt.
“Did she do this to you?” Goading him while you looped the belt around his hands. You made sure to go as slow as possible while you restrained him just to make it last longer until you gave him what he wanted. You even began to grind down on his cock a little bit, it obviously ached to be free from its confines in his trousers by how strained the slacks were getting.
“No!” His voice was broken and breathy, exactly how you wanted it as you tightened the belt around his hand a little more.
Once you were satisfied that the belt was tight enough you got off of him to remove the shorts you had been wearing, along with the rest of your clothes. Normally when you were naked and Spencer was clothed it would be when you were underneath him as a sort of power play. In this position, where he couldn’t move without fear of consequences while you restraddled him completely naked was almost even more empowering.
To play with the dynamic even more you had him remain confined in his slacks for a while longer, while you touched yourself. You were already quite wet from seeing Spencer in this position and exerting that power by pumping your fingers in you while he could do nothing had you dripping onto his slacks.
Spencer’s jaw had gone slack while watching you moan above him, completely speechless from your actions. It was almost comical and entirely too easy to tease him about, “Close your mouth you might catch flies.” His mouth clenched shut at that. It soon fell slack again at your next words while you brought yourself closer to the edge with your fingers, “What? Did she never do this for you?”
All Spencer could do was sit there and take it, shaking his head side to side, only a little so he could keep his eyes on you. You decided to be merciful, pulling your fingers out of you just before you orgasmed. You wanted to finish at the same time as him anyway.
Finally, you pulled his aching cock out of his slacks. It was throbbing in your hand as you spread your wetness with the fingers that had been inside you. Because you had edged yourself earlier, you couldn’t take teasing him any longer. You lined the head of his cock that was red and weeping up to your entrance, sinking down as fast as you could take him. While you sunk down you rubbed your clit in slow circles, not enough to make you orgasm, but enough to make it easier to take him.
Once you had fully taken him you wasted no time, immediately beginning to build up a fast pace. And, of course you couldn’t help but goad him again,
“Did she make you feel this good?” Your pace you had chosen was rough, bouncing and rolling your hips with reckless abandon while he had to take it without being able to move. He could have thrusted up into you even without the use of his hands, but he had one too many of your punishments in the past to be willing to break the rules so explicitly. Now if he ever broke the rules now it was him subtly bending them. Though, you could tell by the way his eyes rolled back into his head that he had no intention of doing that tonight. It felt too good to be used like this by you.
He still had not answered you though, not on purpose, but you still needed an answer. Tapping his cheek a few times, just hard enough to get his attention. It caused him to whine, but he still didn’t give you an answer. Since that didn’t work you decided to ask again, “I asked you a question. Did she make you feel this good? Did she use you like this?”
To add an extra edge to your words filled with a deadly tone you reached one of your hands forward to grasp around his neck. To make him look at you directly you forcefully tilted his neck, eyes once again trained on yours. He finally found it in himself to answer, “It felt good with her, but it feels best with you! I love you!”
“Good.” You simply stated and dropped your hold on his neck so you could return it to its place on his chest, using it as leverage to help you continue your fast pace. Your orgasm was fast approaching, his cock hitting you in the perfect spot, all you needed was a bit more stimulation. When you brought your hand down to run fast circles onto your clit, you soon fell apart above him. Spencer couldn’t help but look up at you in awe, speechless at how beautiful you look while you writhed on top of him.
Your own release pushed Spencer close to the edge and he started to beg, “I’m gonna cum! Please, can I?”
His hands had tightened into fists above him, knuckles going white over the effort of keeping them right where you had placed them originally. You were pleased with the way he had begged, glad that he had asked permission before even thinking about cumming. You still left him in suspense for a bit longer as you continued to work yourself on his painfully hard cock. Pressing a few kisses to his exposed skin under his collar was admittedly just to torture him a bit longer before you finally gave the command.
“Cum for me then.” Spencer followed your command eagerly, taking only two more of you bouncing on top of him to release inside you with a groan. While he rode out his release his lips captured around one of your pebbled peaks, sucking hard to get one last moan out of you.
Slumping forward after you had both finished and you had taken the belt off his wrists with the promise you’d lotion them up after you cuddled. You rested your head on his shoulder, wanting to stay as close as possible for a little while longer. He started tracing his fingers up and down your spine, relaxing you even further, almost to the point of falling asleep.
Before your eyes closed shut in post coital sleepiness your mind wandered a bit back to Elle. Elle had been an important figure in his life, his first real connection with someone special. Sure you teased about being jealous, but you thought it was important to tell him that you were ok with him thinking back on her. You knew he loved you. It most likely would take time till he was able to think or talk about her without a sharp pain in his chest, reminding him of how it all ended.
He hadn’t told you exactly what had happened, but it wasn’t hard to fill in all of the gaps. You turned your head, eyelashes fluttering when you nuzzled into his hair. Then you spoke quietly just enough so the sound could travel the short distance to his ear, “You should frame the picture, you look cute in it. And, I meant to say it earlier, I love you too.”
Ask Me Anything
Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):
All works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith
All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99 @princesssmooshie
Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey @princesssmooshie
Sub Spencer: @thatsonezesty13 @pastathighs @virtualpeanutartisanjudge @calm-and-doctor @princesssmooshie
304 notes · View notes
Shin Ryujin hated waiting.
“This is so unprofessional,” she says, tapping impatiently on the steering wheel with hands covered in black leather driving gloves. “You would think considering how desperately they wanted the package that they’d be here on time.”
You grin to yourself. People in your line of work weren’t the most upstanding of folk, and you knew from experience that punctuality was relatively low on the list of virtues held in high regard.
“They’ll be here, Ryujin,” you say, turning to her to offer an appeasing smile. “Be patient. Just make sure you’re ready to move once the deal is done.”
Ryujin lets out a sharp, dismissive huff from her nose.
“I’m always ready,” she states, finally stopping her incessant tapping on the steering wheel to cross her arms in frustration, choosing instead to glare at something through the driver’s side window. You’re happy to let her frustration simmer. Ryujin could be beautiful or sexy or cute or some mixture of all three at her whim - but she was downright adorable when she was frustrated.
You are about to tease her further when three sets of headlights appear at the opposite entrance to the large, abandoned plane hangar you were currently parked in.
Ryujin snaps to attention - suddenly alert, senses primed. When the other vehicles come to a stop inside the hangar, she flashes your car’s high beams three times. The first of the three vehicles opposite you flashes its lights three times in return.
“Here we go,” you say as you swing the passenger seat open and make your way out of the car. Ryujin exits the vehicle as well, although she keeps the driver side door open. She meets you at the trunk, which she pops open with a click on her key fob. Inside is a metallic secure container the size of a large briefcase - and an H&K 416c rifle fitted with a large capacity drum magazine.
You grab the package by its handle. Ryujin grabs the short barrelled rifle, discreetly racking the charging handle to chamber a round before keeping it low and behind her to keep it concealed from view. She takes up position behind the reinforced, bulletproof driver side door with one hand resting casually on the window, the other on the rifle’s pistol grip as it rests near the door's hinge.
“Be careful,” she says.
You turn back to her with a reassuring smile, even though her eyes are locked on the three vehicles. Package swinging casually in one hand, you make your way towards the old office table and chair that stood at the midway point between you and the new arrivals.
The occupants of the vehicles file out, and a quick headcount reveals that there are eight of them, all women. It wasn’t hard to see which one was the leader - her bright red leather jacket and fishnet stockings stood out starkly from the dark, subdued business and formal wear of the rest of her crew.
“Sorry we’re late,” she says nonchalantly with a vaguely Californian twang. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”
“No, not too long,” you answer, as casually as you could manage. You take advantage of the relatively dim lighting inside the hangar to take note of the positions of the other seven members of the crew, running through possible contingency plans in your head. Twenty or so metres behind you, you were sure Ryujin was doing much the same. Even though your brain was running at a million miles a minute, it was important that you at least appear calm and collected.
“You got the goods, I see?” the leader asks with a nod of her head towards the package in your hand.
“Maybe,” you answer, as casually as you are able. “I was told to deliver it to someone codenamed The Queen. Are you her?”
“Maybe. You can call me Tiffany.”
“Nice to meet you, Tiffany. Unfortunately I’d prefer not to give my name - I’m sure you understand. Now we’re all busy people, so how about I give you the package, you pay me my fees, and we each go on our merry little way?”
A sly smile appears on the young woman’s cherry red lips. She regards you for a moment longer before giving Ryujin and your car an appraising glance. With the wave of a hand, she motions one of her minions forward.
“Give him the cash, Yoona.”
A tall, slender woman with beautiful, delicate features steps forward, a metallic briefcase similar in size to yours clasped in one hand. The thick-thock of her high heels sound almost obnoxiously loud in the relative silence of the hangar as she makes her way towards the table.
She places her briefcase onto it with a loud thud, motioning with her head for you to do the same.
There was always a momentary moment of sheer dread when it came to making the exchange. If things were going to go sideways, it would be now. Your fingers squeeze the handle of the package a little tighter. Your heart beats a little quicker. A bead of sweat drips down the side of your head, and you are happy that the dim lighting doesn’t betray your anxiety to your business partners.
Thankfully, the pale, beautiful girl in front of you shows none of the warning signs that you’d seen in other exchanges. There is a no-nonsense resting bitch face on her otherwise pretty features - absentmindedly, you wonder for a moment what she would look like if she smiled.
You place the package onto the table next to the briefcase. She takes it, and sparing not a single moment more, turns and heads back towards her waiting group. Inwardly, you breathe a sigh of relief as you take the briefcase containing your payment off the table before taking a few steps backward toward Ryujin and your waiting car.
Yoona presents the package to one of the shorter members of her group - a soft, cute woman with a shock of short, bright blonde hair. She has opened a laptop on the hood of one of their vehicles, and after opening the package, she hooks it up to whatever was inside before typing furiously into the keyboard.
Throughout it all, Tiffany’s eyes remain locked on you, a slim smile on her dark red lips, as though there were something about the transaction that amused her.
“You don’t care what was inside?”
“Not even a little bit,” you answer. “There are three-”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tiffany interrupts, her eyes rolling back in her head disdainfully, as though she’d heard what you were about to say a million times before. “Never change the deal, no names, and never look in the package. You couriers are all the same.”
“I’m glad we’ve made such a positive impression,” you answer with a hint of sarcasm. You rest a hand as casually as you could on the old swivel chair next to the desk - ready to reach for the pistol Ryujin had duct-taped to its underside should shit hit the fan.
“And you’re not gonna check the briefcase? It could be full of Monopoly money, for all you know.”
“I trust you. And if you screw me over, well, I’ll know where to find you in order to rectify the situation.”
A smirk appears on Tiffany’s lips at your thinly veiled threat, but the sense of amusement on her face doesn’t fade in the slightest.
“You have balls. You and your partner,” she says with a nod behind you, towards Ryujin.
Not wanting to engage any further and prolong the transaction, you settle for giving her a shrug and a smile. For a few long, uncomfortable seconds, the soft typing of the girl at the keyboard is the only sound filling the otherwise quiet hangar.
“Is it legit, Sunny?” Tiffany eventually asks, breaking the uneasy silence.
“It’s legit,” the short girl answers, packing up her laptop and the package. Tiffany gives you one last smirk.
“Alright then,” she begins. “I think we’re done here. Let’s go-”
Tiffany is interrupted when a third member of her crew, a short, slender woman in a black dress, emerges from the rear of their crew to whisper something into her ear. The sarcastic smirk that seemed permanently affixed to Tiffany’s face widens.
“It’s your lucky day, Mr. Courier. It seems our boss has arranged for a bonus for you - a reward for having transported the package to us so safely and… promptly.”
This wasn’t good - anything that changed the terms of the deal was never a good sign, even if it was labelled as a bonus. Your mind runs at a million miles a second. Your hand tightens a little more around the briefcase, while the other one inches slowly towards the hidden pistol under the chair.
“Is that so?” you answer, as casually and nonchalantly as you could manage. You had to stall for time while you came up with a plan to escape whatever it was that was about to sent your way. “I didn’t know someone called The Queen could even have a boss.”
“We all have bosses,” Tiffany replies, with a matter-of-fact sigh. “Anyway, I think you’ll want some privacy while you indulge in this particular... bonus. Perhaps you can ask your driver over there to give you some space.”
She makes a twirling motion in the air with her finger, and the members of her crew all re-enter their vehicles - all except the woman in the black dress. Tiffany is the last to board, turning around to shoot you one last smile.
“Toodles,” she says with a casual wave. “Oh, and do enjoy.”
The three vehicles quickly back up from the hangar, seemingly leaving the girl in the black dress behind. Once you are satisfied that they are a safe distance away, you turn to Ryujin and give her a nod.
“Are you sure about this?” she asks.
You nod to her again, giving her a smile of reassurance that only half-satisfies her. Shooting you an uneasy frown, she gets into your vehicle, closes the door, and after starting the car, backs it up until she leaves via the same entrance you arrived in.
Alone now with the girl in the black dress, you give her an appraising look from head to toe. She was slender, short, the black silk of her dress wrapping tightly around her small frame and showing off the soft curves and slim lines beneath it. Wavy black hair frames a face filled with soft and youthful features, making placing her age a difficult proposition.
“So what’s this bonus your boss has for me?” you ask, as nonchalantly as you could.
A slim smile appears on the girl’s lips. There is a mysteriousness about her, a strangeness that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. She wore it like a dress, as much of her clothing as the black silk draped around her small frame.
“I think you know what it is,” she answers, her first words calm and measured, “...it’s me.”
The girl steps closer to you, and your body tenses at her proximity - although the allure of her deep, dark eyes keeps you from answering the alarm bells ringing in your head. A pale, slender hand reaches out to the briefcase of cash in your hand, her fingers wrapping themselves around its handle before taking it from your grasp and placing it delicately onto the ground. The ease at which she’d divested you of your hard-earned fees surprised and frightened you in equal measure.
Her fingers play with the front flap of your blazer, her long, slim fingers tracing lazy patterns on your chest.
“I’m not quite sure I follow, Miss-”
“Taeyeon,” she answers, firmly and confidently. “Kim Taeyeon.” Names weren’t always freely exchanged in your line of work, and her willingness to divulge hers, even if it was a pseudonym, spoke of her complete confidence. Her finger suddenly ceases playing with your chest to slowly trace a path down towards your waist.
“Taeyeon,” you repeat. “Anyway, as thankful as I am for your boss’s generosity, I…”
Your sentence dies in your mouth as Taeyeon’s finger reaches your waist. Her other hand joins it, quickly undoing your belt, and soon after the button and zipper to your jeans. Her fingers hook into the waistline of your boxers before she gives them a gentle tug, pulling them and your jeans down halfway your thighs - and freeing your quickly hardening cock.
Throughout the entire process of undressing you her eyes have not left yours. There is a playful confidence there. Hers was the look of a woman who knew exactly who she was and what she was doing - while enjoying every second of it. Every alarm and alert in your brain was telling you to stop her from going any further, but there is something in her eyes that keeps you from paying heed to your brain’s warnings.
“Miss Kim, this really isn’t necessary,” you say, although the words lack conviction. “I don’t really want-”
Taeyeon’s slim, pale fingers wrap themselves around your shaft for the first time - and your final words of resistance die in your throat. The sly smile on the girl’s lips widens. Her fingers begin to pump up and down your length softly, every stroke sending sweet little shocks of pleasure up your spine as your cock quickly comes to full stiffness.
“Really?” she asks, with exaggerated incredulousness. “What’s the matter, too much of a gentleman to fuck a girl that’s been bought and paid for?”
“I… I, uh, I don’t usually fuck-”
“...whores?” Taeyeon snaps, although the sly smile on her lips carries no hint of condescension. The word leaves her lips without any sense of hesitation or judgement, as though she were asking you a simple, obvious question.
“I, no, Taeyeon, I meant-”
“Don’t worry about it,” she answers, her eyes temporarily leaving yours to look down on your cock, which she has continued to pump and up down with a closed fist. “I know what I am. And I won’t judge you for not wanting to fuck me… although your friend here begs to differ.”
“My friend has a habit of getting me into trouble,” you answer with a smirk.
“Does it?” she answers, her tone playful. She breaks eye contact with you to glance down at your shaft again, now leaking glistening pre-cum over your head. She licks her lips - and you take it to mean that she liked what she saw.
“Yeah. It always wants to stick around and play when I really should be leaving.”
“Interesting,” Taeyeon answers, fixing her gaze on yours once more. “My mouth does that to me too.”
Eyes not leaving yours, Taeyeon slowly drops to her knees. With one hand on the base of your cock she points it towards her mouth before her small, pink tongue darts out to give it a long, wet lick from base to tip. You shiver with pleasure. Your eyes close involuntarily, and it takes more effort than you cared to admit to force them open once more so you could watch as Taeyeon reaches the tip of your cock, swirling her pink tip around your head, slathering it with saliva and milky pre-cum.
The sly, devilish smile on her lips widens. Those eyes had never left yours, drinking in the pleasure she was conjuring in your body like it was some fine wine to be tasted and savored.
Satisfied that you were bound now to her whim, a slave to her thrall, she takes you into her mouth.
Your attempts to keep your eyes open fail almost immediately, your lids shutting over thankful eyes as those first delicious sparks of pleasure begin to radiate from your shaft, travelling up your spine and into an overwhelmed brain. Your mind had been running a million miles a minute over the past hour or so - and to go so rapidly from being tense and on-edge to an unforeseen but not unwelcome windfall of pleasure was a little more than it could handle.
Nonetheless you do your best to savor it, savor every second as the young woman on her knees in front of you takes your hard, stiff cock in and out of her hot, wet mouth, perfect pink lips closed tightly around its length, lathering it with a slick sheen of her spit and your pre-cum. Your left hand reaches out under its own volition, resting on the side of Taeyeon’s head as it bobs up and down on your shaft, your fingers slowly drifting down to cup her chin.
She looks up at you again - soft, innocent eyes that held a glimmer of something devious in their corners, as though she were only barely repressing something else behind the cloak of confidence she wore around her.
Your hips begin to move in time with Taeyeon’s movements on your cock, shoving your length even deeper and faster into her wanton mouth. The girl welcomes it, encourages it by bracing her hands on the sides of your hips, fingers digging into your thighs and pulling them back towards her.
Your other hand joins your left, cradling the back of her head, taking your liberties with her face as it continues to suck tightly on every inch of your cock with every entrance and exit of it between her tightly pursed lips. Soon she has ceased moving her head, letting you truly fuck her face, thrusting in and out of her wet mouth at your own pace. Her eyes remain locked on yours the whole time, her gaze never wavering, that look of fulfilled lust never diminishing - only strengthening with every thrust you made into her face.
Your eyes close involuntarily once again, a sigh of wordless pleasure leaving your throat as your head tilts back and you take a moment to savor the sensations flowing outward from your crotch. Only a few minutes ago you were so tense, so anxious and fearful about the possibility of a deal gone wrong; and your weary brain had no capacity left to fight the orgasm quickly building in your loins. Your peak nears after only a few minutes - quicker than you would have liked, but you were too lost, too drunk in the tight wetness of the woman’s mouth to give a damn about it.
“I’m gonna fucking cum,” you hiss. Taeyeon’s only response is to slip her hands from your hips to the cheeks of your ass, pulling you against her mouth, strengthening each thrust between her lips, removing any thought of pulling your cock out of her wet cavern. She lets out a wet gurgle that could have been acceptance, or permission - not that it mattered, when her swirling tongue and the tight grip on your butt told you all you needed to know.
It only takes you a few moments more before you let your orgasm overtake you, the stress and anxiety of the past hour or so finding release in thick, white semen that spurts wetly from your tip and into the back of Kim Taeyeon’s needy throat. Her throat works as fast as it can, gulping down and swallowing every rope that fills her small mouth. Her eyes remain locked on yours the whole time, even as they water slightly, even as they flinch with each spurt of semen you leave in her throat.
As your orgasm begins to subside you give her mouth a few more thrusts, grunting with each one, your body possessed of a temporary but undeniable need to watch her choke on your cum. And she does so, a wet cough leaving her mouth as the tip of your shaft hits the back of her mouth and temporarily cuts off her air supply.
You are suddenly ashamed, and afraid that you’d hurt her. But when your spent cock finally slips out of her mouth and she lets out a wet gurgle, allowing a spill of her spit and your cum to drip from the corners of her lips, the lust in the gaze that she fixes upon you is undiminished. In fact, it is only deepened, as though the taste of your cum and the roughness with which you’d given it to her had only heightened her need for more.
She rises from her knees, a slender hand with slender fingers wiping the wetness from her messy chin before bringing the slick mess to her mouth for her wet, semen-glazed tongue to lick off. Eyes never once leaving yours, she takes a few steps backwards towards the waiting office table, her black high heels echoing oddly loudly in the hangar.
The young woman leans her butt on the edge of the table before reaching up with hands and pulling the straps of her black dress down, revealing her small, round breasts and the tight, taut nipples atop each one.
She bends over at the waist to grasp the hem of her knee-length dress, giving you a generous view of her hanging breasts as she does so. Her slim fingers grasp its edge before pulling it up her body, revealing the pale, creamy skin of her thighs and the slick wet lips between them. She only stops when the dress is a mere slash of silk around her waist, more like a fancy belt than a dress.
There is no slow undressing, no teasing, seductive dance. Only a stripping of unnecessary obstacles that stood in the way between her and needs that needed to be satiated.
“Come take what’s yours,” she says, her eyes half-lidded now, every syllable of the words leaving her mouth dripping with desire.
Your body moves of its own volition, driven solely by the need to claim the reward offered to you. When you reach her your lips crash into hers in a frenzied kiss that had little passion but plenty of lust - tongues quickly find and explored mouths, teeth, and lips; hands explore shoulders, breasts, and backs; legs press torsos against torsos, hers wrapping quickly around your waist as you pick her up and deposit her upon the desk.
You tear your lips from hers - which proved more difficult than you cared to admit, the soft sweetness of her lips like a delicious dessert that was almost too decadent to finish. Your mouth moves to her neck, to her soft, round breasts and her tight, stiff nipples, latching onto the small buds with hungry lips before sucking deeply - savoring each inch of her pale, creamy skin, devouring the young woman’s body like a starving man indulging in an unexpected feast.
Taeyeon moans and sighs and gasps with every movement of your mouth and lips, every suck on her tight nipples. Her hand finds its way onto the back of your scalp, pressing you against her needy breasts, pulling you by the hair from one needy mound to the other, ensuring both of her tight, stiff peaks received the attention she needed. After a while she rips your mouth from her saliva-soaked breasts, and with a wicked glint in her eye, she pushes you down between her legs.
You go to your knees willingly, taking only a moment to drink in the sight of Taeyeon’s wet, glistening lips before diving in, indulging and feasting on her wet, slick flesh with the same hunger and need you showed to her breasts. The girl’s gasps turn into heavy moans as your tongue swipes up and down her tender lips, drinking in her taste and her juices like her body was a newly opened fruit, lapping her up, licking every drop, gorging yourself on her sweet, tender flesh.
“Oh, fuck,” she gasps, just the beginning of a long string of profanity and filth that begins to leave her mouth - not that you could hear most of it, as she quickly closes her warm, flushed thighs around your head, trapping you against her crotch, forcing you to finish a meal you were going to devour anyway.
Her pussy is as delicious a meal as you could have ever wanted, but you want to heighten it for her, ensure that she was being fed as much as you. And so you latch your lips around the tender, taut bud at the top of her opening before devoting tender licks of your needy tongue upon it. As her moans rise in volume and need, your fingers find her slick opening and slip inside it, building to and maintaining a steady rhythm as you thrust them in and out of her folds.
It doesn’t take long for your actions to achieve the desired effect - soon she is a writhing, squirming mess atop the desk, the wordless gasps and occasional hissed profanity muffled by the thighs pressed tightly against your ears as she wraps her legs around your head. Her fingers dig almost painfully into the back of your scalp, pressing your head against her flesh and making it difficult to breathe.
But oxygen was a secondary concern. The wet, slick, hot flesh of the woman beneath your tongue was all that mattered. You slurp up her juices onto a thirsty tongue, savoring her bittersweet taste on your palette, before returning your lips back onto her needy clit and resuming swiping at it with firm, steady strokes.
When she orgasms she fills your mouth with even more of her delicious juices, her slick wetness flowing freely into your mouth and onto your still-thrusting fingers. She makes a mess of your face and hand. You could not have cared less. When you finally release her quivering bud from your lips and even as your fingers slip out of her satiated pussy, you lap up every drop of her juices you could find - your hunger not at all satiated, not at all satisfied.
You return to her feet to find the same look of need on her eyes. She hops up onto the desk and spreads her legs wantonly, welcoming you between them. Your stiff cock rests on a warm thigh, still streaked with her own juices.
“Fuck me now,” she hisses with a tone that was more of an order than a request.
“Tell me you want this,” you reply, the words leaving your tongue before you knew you were speaking them. There was no doubt in your mind that she did - but you wanted to hear her say it, wanted to hear her admit it. “Tell me how you want me to treat you.”
“Treat me like a fucking whore,” she hisses in reply, eyes dark and needy. “Fuck me like a dirty litlte whore that your boss bought you.”
She spreads her legs wider. Your cock quivers with need. You grip it by the base and place it at her entrance, swirling its head around her needy clit. Her glistening lips lather the head with her slick juices. Her eyes drip with lust, mirroring the slickness of her body.
“If you want to be treated like a whore,” you hiss as you fill her tight, hot pussy for the first time, leaving her breathless, “then you’re going to be fucked like one.”
You begin fucking her, pounding her on the creaking, protesting desk. Not giving a damn about a slow building up of speed, not caring about anything other than driving yourself in and out of the young woman’s wet, slick, hot pussy at a fast and frantic pace. For her part Taeyeon seemed to welcome it, even revel in it - any initial pain and discomfort she felt was quickly overwhelmed by the welcome feeling of being filled again and again by your stiff meat.
She lets out sharp gasps with each wet meeting of your bodies, her sweet little mouth frozen in an open “O” as if each thrust of your cock into her needy pussy drove the air from her lungs. Her right hand involuntarily clenches tightly onto your left shoulder, nails digging so painfully into your skin that she might have drawn blood - not that you would have cared or even noticed. Her body tightens around you. Her pussy pulsates. Her eyes remain locked on yours.
The old desk creaks loudly with each thrust into her body as it protests the rough treatment it is being given. For a moment you fear it would give out and break, sending you both crashing to the floor. Not that you would have given a damn. You would’ve fucked the mewling, quivering young woman right on the dirty, cold floor if you needed to.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck me like that,” Taeyeon hisses, the filthy profanity leaving her mouth at odds with the innocence of her youthful face. “Fuck me! Harder! Fuck me as hard as you want.”
You take her words as a challenge, and to that end you grasp her behind her knees, pulling them from your hips and bending them over her torso until they are hovering just over her shoulders. You fuck her like that for a few minutes, every thrust giving her the full length of your cock from base to tip. You groan at her tightness. She moans at your size.
“Treat me… treat me like the fucking whore I am,” she snaps, the vulgarity of her words momentarily stealing your attention away from the tightness of her body. “Choke me. Slap me. Hurt me!”
You normally weren’t one to indulge in such kinks aside from relatively tame hair pulling or ass slapping, and so her demands for rougher treatment surprise you somewhat. But there was something in Kim Taeyeon that enticed you in a way other women didn’t - perhaps it was her youthful appearance, perhaps it was the fact that she was so confident and demanding about what she wanted. Perhaps it was that she knew who and what she was, and she revelled in it, enjoyed every moment of what she was hired to do.
Your hand moves - again, almost of its own volition - to grasp a bouncing, soft breast, squeezing it none-too-gently, enjoying the feel of her warm flesh in your hand and the stiffness of the nipple poking into your palm. Not breaking contact with her milky skin for a moment, your hand travels up her chest, until it closes tightly around her thin, pale throat.
A wicked smile appears at the corners of her mouth as your fingers close around her windpipe, as though she were happy to see you give in to her desires. You grunt as you pump harder into her body, feeling more and more of your self-control erode with every thrust. Her moans rise in volume until they become shrieks.
And then she slaps you hard on the cheek with an open hand.
“You fuck like a pussy,” she snaps, the words dulled somewhat by the hand clasped around her throat. You stop thrusting into her for a second. Her words sting - your pride hurt as much as the side of your reddened cheek; in your mouth you can taste the coppery twang of blood. Your fingers tighten somewhat around her neck, as though wanting to exact some measure of revenge for the pain she has inflicted.
Never in your life had you hit a woman before. But before you know it your free hand has reached up and slapped Taeyeon across the cheek.
You expect a look of pained shock to appear on her flushed cheeks.
Instead there is only a wicked smile, as though she were proud of having made you do something you never would have done otherwise. Her hand moves to slap you in return, but you catch her by the wrist, and pin her hand down onto the table. With one hand still around her throat and the other holding down her struggling wrist, you resume fucking the helpless young woman atop the desk. You are afraid for a moment that she would slap you with her free hand, but instead it reaches up to your skull, fingers digging deeply into your skin. Soon you feel a warm liquid in your scalp, and you know she has drawn blood from you for the second time.
You are in a frenzy now, your cock slamming in and out of her body with a reckless abandon, using the young woman’s pussy like it were a toy, and object to be used for your pleasure. The pain you have caused each other only heightens each sensation, focuses it and makes it more pure, more intense.
Taeyeon not only allows it but welcomes it, if the look of sheer bliss on her face and the continued tightening and pulsating of her wet, slick tunnel is anything to go by. She squirms and quivers and writhes atop the desk, fingers digging ever deeper into your increasingly painful scalp - but your hands at her throat and wrist keep her pinned down onto it as your cock continues to nail her onto it like some obscene piece of art.
“Fuck!” she moans inbetween wordless gasps of pleasure, “Fuck, yes, own me, use me like this- fuck me like the little whore I am, fuck me like your little whore!”
Satisfied that you’d broken her, you release her throat and wrist - and she lets out a whimper of disappointment as you do so. But the whimper is soon replaced by a wicked sigh as you grasp her by the hips and pull her off the desk, before turning her around and pushing her roughly back onto it with a hand in the middle of her back.
No teasing, no build up or prelude. As soon as you are able you grasp the base of your cock with your right hand, line it up with her dripping opening, and then you are fucking Kim Taeyeon again, this time from behind, with her small, tight little body bent over the creaking desk.
“Oh, fuck!” she gasps, “Fuck, you’re so big like this, fuck, you’re so big you’re stretching me out you’re filling me so much oh fuck, oh fuck oh I’m gonna, I’m close, I’m gonna-”
The string of profanity leaving her mouth is cut short abruptly when your hand grasps the back of her head - and slams it down onto the table.
“Shut up and just take my dick, Taeyeon,” you hiss as you continue to fuck her roughly into the table. “Take it like a good little whore.”
Your words, and your implicit surrender to the darker needs, seem to push her over the edge. Her pussy pulsates and quivers and tightens so much around your cock that it drives you dizzy with pleasure. Her limbs shake so violently with her orgasm that you fear she would have fallen from the table had she not been pinned to it by your hands at her head and shoulder.
Throughout it all you are fucking her into the desk, relishing in the feel of her orgasming pussy wrapped tightly around your cock with each entry and exit. Your hand tightens around her skull, your teeth gritting with effort as the pleasure builds in your loins, making you feel light headed and dizzy.
“Beg for it, Taeyeon,” you spit. Your pace quickens as you reach your peak, hammering hard and fast into her pussy. “Fucking beg for my cum. Beg me to cum in you. Beg for it like a good little slut. Like a good little whore.”
“Cum in me already,” she manages to say, turning her head enough to hiss at you despite your hand still pushing her onto the table. “Fucking cum inside your dirty little whore! Fill my dirty little pussy with cum!”
Just as your words broke her, hers break you - and you bury yourself as deeply as you can inside Kim Taeyeon’s wet, hot body before you finally orgasm. Your cock pulsates as it sends thick, white cum into her pussy, your entire body jerking involuntarily with each spurt. Taeyeon moans deeply with each rope of semen that fills her, her pussy squeezing tightly around your spurting cock, welcoming each and every drop of your seed.
You keep her pressed onto the table throughout the length of your orgasm, your hands at her skull and her shoulder not loosening until your strength finally gives out with the last few ropes of cum that you manage to force from your spent, tired cock. Finally releasing her, you lean over the young woman’s body on the desk, breathing heavily, suddenly exhausted.
After a few more seconds trying to catch your breath, you eventually straighten up, enjoying one last glance at Taeyeon’s body bent over the desk, her round, full ass still pressed against your crotch. Giving her a soft smack on the ass cheek, you grasp her hips as you slowly draw your spent cock out of her body, enjoying the sight of glistening cum that quickly appears from her well-used pussy. It flows wetly down her thighs and onto the floor in thick drops, forming a small puddle between her still shaky legs.
You expect her to say something filthy, something vulgar about the mess you’d made of her body. But to your surprise she says nothing as she bites her lip slightly, shooting you a sensual, wicked smile from over her shoulder.
You begin to tuck yourself back into your pants, and she does the same, adjusting her wrinkled black dress as best she could around her body, it having been twisted around by your frenzied movements.
For a split second, just before she pulls it back down over her hips, you catch a glimpse of a tattoo at the small of her back - one that had been covered by the dress while you were fucking.
It is the outline of a chess piece - a queen.
As if on cue, one of the black vehicles her crew arrived in pulls into the hangar. You are momentarily alarmed, but there is nothing in Taeyeon’s movements that suggests you are in any sort of danger, so you do nothing but watch as it pulls up next to the both of you. Out of the passenger side hops Tiffany, who quickly moves to open the rear door for Taeyeon. There is no trace of the confident, brash persona the Californian had displayed not even an hour ago - she seemed more like an obedient servant now, eager to please her superior.
Taeyeon shoots you a sweet smile, her secret identity having been revealed.
You want to say something, something clever or witty in response to the little charade that you had just walked into and played an unknowing part in.
“I hope I can call on your services again in the near future,” Taeyeon says - in a formal British accent.
Unexpected accent shift aside, her tone was clear and confident, showing no hint of the rough, wanton woman she’d been just a few moments before. There is a grace and elegance around her now - were you to ignore the wrinkled dress and slightly frazzled hair she would not have looked out of place at a fancy cocktail party. With her perfect posture and confident smile, she seemed, suddenly, more like the royalty suggested by her codename.
“I hope you do,” you answer, unable to really come up with anything else to say.
Shooting you one last smile upon soft, perfect lips, Taeyeon steps into the waiting vehicle. Tiffany closes the door behind her and hops back into the passenger seat before it speeds away, leaving you alone and speechless.
When you approach Ryujin’s vehicle the driver’s side window is open, a lazy trail of smoke is rising from it.
Inside, the young woman is lazily cradling a cigarette in one hand, taking a long drag from it as you open the door and sit in the passenger seat. From her undone button, lowered zipper of her pants, and her wrinkled shirt it was obvious what she was up to while you were with Taeyeon.
“It wasn’t fair that only you got that bonus,” she says, answering your unspoken question. “Besides, that hangar isn’t exactly soundproof.”
You smile slyly at her as you place the briefcase with your fees into the backseat. “When we get back to the hotel you’ll get your cut of the money.”
“I better be getting more than just money,” she answers as she tosses her cigarette butt out the window and starts up the car. “I’m charging you an additional fee for making me wait.”
“I can’t wait to pay it,” you say with a smile. Ryujin gives you a sly smile of her own before she puts the car into drive and you both screech away from the hangar.
Author’s Note: *preps holy water bath to cleanse himself of that filth*
Been wanting to write Taeyeon (and at least mention SNSD) for a long time, and I finally came up with an interesting scenario for it. The driver was initially going to be Seohyun but I couldn’t resist putting Ryujin in it as a cameo (and maybe as a sequel hook for part 2 lol).
Hope you all enjoyed it. Stay cool and stay safe, fellow sickdirtyfreaks!
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Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 1
Fandom: Resident Evil: Village
Pairing: Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader
Rating: T for teen for mild language. Later entries in the series will be more mature though, just a heads up
Warnings: None this chapter. There will probably be canon typical violence/blood mentioned or referenced in future chapters though, cuz, ya know, vampire ladies?
Notes: No beta reader, we die like Ethan Winters’ hands (repeatedly, and with odd frequency)
Chapter 1: Nocturne
Of all the tasks assigned to you, none were as bittersweet as that of dusting Lady Dimitrescu’s piano. Years ago, before you had been shuffled off to a remote European village, before you had been roughly snatched from your home, before… this, you had been taught to play music. From a young age it brought you comfort, entertained you on quiet days, and even made you your fair share of friends. Though you had experimented with a handful of instruments, none felt more natural than piano. Leaving your family’s heirloom piano behind was one of the hardest things you had ever had to do.
Until you arrived at Castle Dimitrescu, at least. Sweat often dropped off your brow as you spent endless hours scrubbing floors, carrying baskets of clothes or mysterious parcels of meat up and down flights of stairs, rushing to and fro rooms across the estate. Physical labor was no stranger to you, but no employer had ever been as demanding as those you now served. Hence part of why you always breathed a sigh of relief when you were chosen to dust the piano. It was hardly a demanding task, even when you had to take care not to accidentally let the keys make any noise. No one was allowed to play it without permission (and that was never given).
Which brought you an aching sensation at the core of your chest, balled up alongside past regrets, a hundred million thoughts of alternative realities where you didn’t hurt so much. There was no point in imagining what choices might have saved you from your fate… and yet you did so anyway. Sometimes you thought about barricading yourself in the room, just so you could play a couple songs, even if it would guarantee you a painful death. But you could never bring yourself to willingly disobey Lady Dimitrescu; not when you had heard the wails and screams of Maidens a few floors below.
Yes, you would never willingly, knowingly do such. That wasn’t to say you were incapable of mistakes. No, you weren’t that fortunate. It was such a simple error, really, just a misjudgment of the cloth held between your fingers. Your hand slipped. That was all. But that slip led to an accidental press of a key- f#, if you heard right- that sounded throughout the room with damning clarity. Just like that, you felt the pitiful thing you called life shatter to pieces on the floor. Inside your chest your heart started to pound, a metronome speeding this performance along to its end.
Had you not been paralyzed with dread, you might have accepted your fate with enough grace to sit down, play those last few tunes like you had daydreamed about so many times. But you didn’t, couldn’t. All you felt you could do was strain your ears and listen for the impending sounds of angry footsteps.
Instead your concentration was interrupted by a door flying open, hitting the wall with a slam you knew would leave a dent, as a swarm of insects burst in. Nearly jumping out of your skin you put a hand to your chest, half expecting not to feel a heartbeat anymore. The rhythm was off, for sure, and it skipped a beat when the swarm surged together to form a somewhat familiar figure: Daniela Dimitrescu. Leaning against the piano, one hand bracing against it, the woman pretended to examine her sickle, idly twisting it back and forth in her hand. When she spoke, she didn’t even bother to glance in your direction.
“I never understood why mother dedicated a whole room to this,” she muses, casually inclining her head towards the piano. “It’s not like any of our instructors lasted very long. Why not let this gather dust with the rest of the useless junk somewhere upstairs?” There’s a pause, and for a moment you mentally debate whether or not you’re supposed to respond. Apparently not, as Daniela soon turns to you and speaks more directly, which is grand, really, as your tongue felt as if it was glued to the roof of your mouth. “Maybe she knew someday someone would come along to serenade us. And you clearly know how to play, otherwise you wouldn’t have dared to make a sound.”
Stepping forward, she extends a gloved hand, cupping your chin so gently that you almost couldn’t feel her touch. Her gaze, however, was dangerously intense, unblinking, and filled with far less joy than her grin would suggest. The touch lasts only a few seconds. Just long enough to leave you shaking with anticipation. Daniela’s toothy smile only widens as she backs up, keeping her eyes on you even as she reclines into a chair in the corner of the room. You almost wished she would just get it over with and kill you. Whatever she had in mind would be worse in the end, yes?
“Well? Aren’t you going to play for me? Show me how much you love me? I don’t have all night,” Daniela says expectantly. She’s relaxed fully, sitting with one leg crossed over the other, spine pressed up against the back of the chair, but she hasn’t set her sickle down. There’s a clear threat in the way she holds it, grip tight enough to let you know that she’s still ready (and itching) to use it.
You couldn’t help but wonder if she’d be acting differently if she knew that you did, in fact, know how to play. Was this just a teasing start to your punishment? Or was there a part of her genuinely interested in hearing music? Obviously you hoped for the latter. Hell, you practically prayed for it as you slowly pulled out the piano bench, awkwardly sat down, and urged your body to remember a song. What genre would a vampire from the 1950’s even enjoy? All you knew were bits and pieces of a few classics, a couple chord progressions from early 2000’s hits, and a handful of songs you had written yourself.
There wasn’t much time to ponder, not with Daniela’s gaze burning a whole in the side of your head. So you simply pressed your fingers to the keys, took a deep breath, and let muscle memory take over. Your eyes became half lidded as you started to play, hardly paying attention to what you were doing. It felt like a single glance at your captor would result in the worst case of stage fright known to mankind. Instead you focused on the piano’s wooden frame, and the many grain marks twisting within.
All the while your fingers glided over the keys, delicately pressing here and there, starting with something simple. Little more than a chord on your left hand, followed with a few short notes on your right, repeating in different places up and down the scale. It was almost a test, a gentle showing to see what Daniela would do. You still refused to look at her, even when you heard what sounded like a bored sigh. A knot tied itself in your stomach, and you gulped, before you shifted mental gears. Evidently “soft and simple” wasn’t going to cut it. Hopefully you could please one Lady without earning the ire of any of the others.
So you paused, letting the notes suspend in the air for a moment, and came back swinging. The kiddy gloves were off, abandoned on the floor with your sense of caution. Grander things came back to mind as your fingers danced atop the keys, stretching chords and melodies alongside each other, the best of what you recalled pouring out of you without a sign of stopping. Out of the corner of your eyes you saw Daniela sit up, paying more attention then she had at the start. Confidence found itself growing at the center of your chest, and it managed to turn your lips up into a smile. How long had it been since you had been able to perform like this? Years? A decade, even? You didn’t know. It didn’t matter.
Minutes passed by like this, with your hands moving constantly, even as your gaze never shifted. It was heaven channeled on Earth. Whatever was to come after, death or dismemberment, you couldn’t care less. Let them take your blood, your life. They could never take this music from your mind, from your memories, or the joy it inspired in you. If you were to die soon, at least you had been given one last soliloquy.
Eventually the song had to end. It was a bitter moment, one you dreaded for its followup, but otherwise would have found pride in. After all, you were evidently the first maiden to give a performance (at least of this variety) to one of the Dimitrescu sisters! Certainly that was an accomplishment? Maybe your brain would let you celebrate later… assuming you survived. Daniela had stayed quiet since her earlier sigh, letting you play on without interruption thus far. Now that the song was over you didn’t know what to expect. Knowing Daniela, or at least knowing the rumors surrounding you, it was hard to imagine that anything you could expect would be accurate.
“How long have you been hiding this little talent of yours?” She coos, clapping her hands together with a short giggle. So far so good, you thought, clinging desperately to hope. Once more she rose to her feet, moving so smoothly she might as well have been gliding, and ended up by your side. This time her hand rested on your shoulder, putting enough pressure to keep you from moving. “Don’t tell me you’re shy, that would simply be too… precious.” With that said her hand trails along your shoulder, across your collarbone, up your neck, then rests for a moment on your cheek. The touch sends a shiver down your spine, which only encourages Daniela, and she tucks a strand of your hair behind her ear.
Before she can say more, or you could even attempt to form words, there’s the faint sound of someone yelling in the distance. A name, you think, although it’s not loud enough for you to make out who’s being called. The answer becomes evident soon enough, however, as Daniela pulls back from you suddenly, smile trading out for a scowl. Some part of you instantly misses her touch, leaving the rest of you confused more than anything.
“Get back to your work, then,” Daniela says, roughly, the playfulness in her voice now entirely absent. It was such a sudden change in demeanor that you didn’t know how to react. Thankfully her eyes were no longer on you, and she was already moving towards the door. Had you really managed to play your way out of a punishment? You knew for a fact that at least one other maiden had lost her life for making the same mistake you did, yet now Daniela looks ready to leave without so much as a slap on the wrist. But she does pause in the doorway, as if reading your thoughts, and throws you a look over her shoulder. Her eyes narrow for a split second before she gives you one last wicked grin. “Don’t worry, sweet thing, I won’t forget you anytime soon.”
Just like that she was gone, into a cloud of insects, out the door and into the corridor beyond. The tension in the room had left, you could finally breathe easy… and yet still your mind was racing. Those words she had left you with- were they a threat? Or a promise of something softer? Only time would tell.
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