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ja3yun · 18 days

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Red Ocean | P.JS

vampire!jay x succubus!femreader warnings: smut (mdni), rough, unprotected sex, power dynamics, blood and biting (a lot of it), dirty talk, spanking, oral (m.rec), throat fucking, swallowing, mentions of manipulation and control (but all consensual!), not proofread, anything else lmk! wc: 8.5k synopsis: with jongseong starving for his next feed as a self proclaimed veggie, his friend suggests visiting red ocean to quench his thirst, but when he gets there, there's something off about the place. a/n: hi! so listen, this is completely new territory for me bc i write cute lovey dovey scenes and this is pure FILTH. this was originally going to be a thank you for 1.5k (which thank you btw!) but i think i want to write something else for that since this kind of fic doesn't suit some people's taste, so please enjoy it as just a lil something. there is a lot of blood and vampire stuff so like, if you don't enjoy that, feel free to scroll!

Slumping onto the couch beside his buddy Jake, Jongseong looks like he's been through the wringer. His eyes are droopy, his head's pounding, and he's got this desperate hunger gnawing at him. "I'm fucking starving," he groans, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to block out the craving for blood that's been driving him nuts.

It has been 4 weeks since he has had a decent meal and he is starting to lose the strength in his body, his powers growing weaker by the second. It’s gotten so bad that he almost mauled the girl next to him in the lift on the way up to his best friend, Jake’s apartment, thinking about how good it would be to pierce her neck and taste her blood on his tongue, drinking her until he’s stuffed.

But it goes against Jongseong’s number one rule: never feed from a human.

Jongseong has lived his life for 148 years and lived 127 years of it as a vampire. He has been a self-proclaimed vegetarian for over 60 years, vowing that now he can control his thirst around humans, he will never feed from anyone ever again. It was a personal choice, one that is lost on his friends because, to them, one of the greatest pleasures in this shitty never-ending life is to feast on fresh human blood.

It’s not that he didn’t love the taste of human blood, in fact, he often finds dinner within the confines of a type O blood bag that Jake kindly provides him when on shift. His friend works as a delivery man, transporting goods from one hospital to another, and sometimes while he has to use the ‘bathroom’ he sniffs out what he calls the Treasure Room; a room filled with red gold. Stealing the blood is easy, it’s understanding why Jongseong won’t just suck on a pure nape that is the hard part.

“There are some bags in the fridge,” Jake points over to his white, shabby refrigerator where he keeps some spare bags of sweet crimson for himself, “I can’t keep doing this, Jongseong. The hospitals are starting to notice and it’s hard enough to feed me never mind you,” he exhales heavily, trying to relay to Jongseong the burden he carries.

Jongseong sighs, fighting to find the energy to drag himself to the fridge, “I’m sorry, the closest woods is 5 hours away and wildlife doesn't exactly run rampant around these parts,” he retorts, hoping his friend will understand his struggle.

The bags are nice, but they’re cold and stale, he wants something warm and substantial, something only living beings can provide. Unfortunately for him, deer and foxes have been scarce in recent weeks.

Nodding, Jake pulls himself off the couch to grab him and his friend a bag. Jongseong watches Jake take the blood bags from the refrigerator, his stomach twisting with relief and remorse. He despises having to rely on Jake for meals, knowing the toll it puts on his friend.

Jake hands him one of the bags before sitting beside him once again, concern etched on his face, “You could start feeding from humans again,” he suggests, knowing that it’s sort of a lost cause. Jongseong has been a veggie for so long that he knows the idea is ludicrous to him, but it seems like his only option now.

“Not a chance in hell,” Jongseong argues back, piercing his fangs into the blood bag and sucking some out of it, his eyes lighting up as he tastes the sweetness. Despite his love for human blood, he stands by his morals, “I’m not that person, I’m not like those mosquitoes from the Tracks.”

The Tracks are notorious for hosting some of the most bloodthirsty vampires to roam Seoul. They’re lethal and dangerous; in Jongseong’s eyes, they might as well be parasites. He knows it’s wrong to cast judgment on a whole group of people based on a few individuals, but these creatures aren’t like Jake and Jongseong; they’re predatory and conniving, doing whatever it takes to get humans to surrender to them, even if that means abusing their power.

Jongseong vowed to never do such a thing, to keep humans safe. After all, he was laid victim to the hands of a vampire all those years ago, why would he now wish to cause the same harm to an innocent being?

Jake sits up straight, his thinking cap secured firmly on his head, “What if they consented? Like how Bona has consented to me?” he offers as a solution.

Bona is Jake’s long-term human blood bag turned girlfriend, she allows Jake to take what he needs from her, trusting him to never harm her. It works tremendously well, however, as much as she is there to provide herself to her man, Jake doesn’t like to abuse the offering, hence the use of blood bags for himself.

Jongseong scoffed, recognising the uniqueness of Jake's situation, "It’s alright for you to say, your girlfriend is the most chilled person I know. Could you imagine if I just walked up to someone and was like ‘Hey, can I suck on one of your main arteries for a couple of minutes?’ I’m sure that’ll go down well,” he remarked sarcastically, highlighting the absurdity of the notion.

Suddenly, Jake’s eyes light up as if he had come up with the solution to all of Jongseong’s problems, “What about Red Ocean?” he queries.

“The sex club? I’m hungry, not horny, Jake,” Jongseong says back.

Red Ocean is a famous strip joint in the middle of town that also provides bonus services to those who throw enough money around. It’s not the worst place in the world but it is certainly not what he is looking for.

“Well you’re single as well as hungry,” Jake starts, his face never diminishing his bright expression, “What if you could quench both thirsts at once?”

Jongseong had no problem getting laid, in fact, he was good as it gets for a superb fuck around these parts; it didn’t take long for him to lure women into his bed for a one night thing. But that didn’t mean he feasted on them, he was far too much a gentleman for that. The woman that he slept with signed up to get pounded into, not drained of their blood.

"What the fuck are you even suggesting? That I go feed off some poor girl just because she's a sex worker? It's a legitimate profession, you know," Jongseong argues vehemently, placing the now-empty blood bag on the coffee table before him.

Rolling his eyes, Jake lets out an exasperated sigh. "Yeah, yeah, we all know you’re a feminist" he quips, brushing off Jongseong's defence, "But Red Ocean isn't just your run-of-the-mill sex club. My buddy Jungwon told me they've got a whole section specifically for vampires like us. Plenty of willing donors, no strings attached."

Jongseong runs a hand over his face, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling in, "But why would anyone agree to that?" he wonders aloud, struggling to comprehend the idea of people willingly offering themselves up as disposable blood bank for a paycheck.

Shrugging nonchalantly, Jake takes a sip from his own blood bag, "Different strokes for different folks, I guess," he offers with a shrug as if that explains everything, "I'll have Wonnie send over the details."

Despite his reservations, Jongseong knows that his hunger won't be satisfied for long with just blood bags. Reluctantly, he nods, conceding to Jake's suggestion. Perhaps Red Ocean holds the key to quelling his insatiable cravings without compromising his morals. Only time will tell.

_____

Standing outside the red-lit nightclub, Jongseong hypes himself up to enter, his comfort zone being pushed to its brink. He is a homebody who enjoys binging TV shows and playing his guitar, so this venture is foreign to him.

His nervousness is heightened by the fact that he is here alone. Jake, being the devoted lover he is, would never risk an argument with Bona over a place like this. And Jongseong's other dependable friend, Heeseung, is preoccupied with a work assignment, leaving him to traverse this foreign environment on his own.

Despite his concerns, Jongseong knows he can't back out now, the hunger that lies in the pit of his stomach is only getting worse. With a final steeling of his will, he pushes open the club's entrance and enters the throbbing, crimson-hue interior, prepared to face whatever awaits him within.

The place really lives up to its name Red Ocean because all he can see in front of him is red; red lighting and neon signs, the workers are all laced with some form of red attire, and there is an ocean of people. Jongseong looks like a deer in the headlights as he walks up to the reception desk.

His gaze is immediately drawn to a sultry figure standing near the entrance. She's the epitome of allure, with long, flowing hair cascading over her shoulders and a figure that curves in all the right places. Her eyes, smouldering with an enticing gaze, seem to beckon him forward.

She stands behind a large desk area, her presence commanding attention as she takes in the arrivals with a knowing smile. Dressed in a form-fitting dress that accentuates her ample curves, she exudes an air of confidence and sensuality that leaves Jongseong momentarily breathless.

As Jongseong approaches, he can't help but feel a flush of heat rise to his cheeks under her gaze. Her lips curve into a seductive smile as she extends a manicured hand towards him, her voice smooth as velvet as she speaks.

"Welcome to Red Ocean," she purrs, her voice laced with a hint of mischief, “How can we fulfil your desires tonight?” Her question hangs in the air as Jongseong is entranced by her.

He can’t put his finger on it, but suddenly he’s more tired than before, his body almost as if it’s being led on its own, like he’s having a strange out-of-body experience. Perhaps it’s the heat mixed in with the smoke, or maybe it’s something more.

Clearing his throat nervously, Jongseong tries to regain his composure as he addresses the hostess. "Um, yeah, I was told there's a private area?" he asks, hoping she'll understand his subtle hint.

With a dark smile, the hostess nods, her gaze lingering on him with a knowing glint. "Absolutely, sir. For £700, you can enjoy the company of one of our talented performers in a private setting, with a complimentary bottle of champagne," she explains smoothly, her fingers dancing across the screen of her iPad.

Jongseong defiantly shakes his head, “No, no, none of that,” he notices how her smile drops as if he has offended her, “No! I just don’t…I don’t need that kind of service,” he says softly. This is going a lot more awkwardly than he had planned. The last thing he needs to do is offend her, this could be his only chance at a proper meal for weeks.

There’s also a nagging voice in the back of his mind that’s telling him to be careful. Telling this woman outright that he is a vampire could end disastrously, hunters lurk in every corner of the city, waiting for their moment to capture vampires exactly like him. It’s not easy to tell who is a hunter and who isn’t, so for all he knows, this club could be collecting vampires and luring them in with possibilities of feeding when in actual fact, they will tear them limb from limb and burn them out back.

He has to tread carefully here.

The atmosphere is heavy around him as he tries to regain control of the situation, but with his energy low, it’s proving difficult, “Do you provide…special services?” he asks, puffing out his chest a little to feign confidence.

Jongseong isn’t a timid person, he’s always been known for being strong and confident but for some reason, he’s regressed back to his little awkward, virgin self. This place is throwing his entire aura off and messing with his head. Maybe it’s just the hunger that sits within him.

The hostess eyes him sceptically, her gaze lingering on him in a way that sets his nerves on edge. "We offer a variety of unique services, tailored to each individual's preferences," she replies, her voice dipping seductively as she sizes him up. "So, sir, how can I ensure you have the best experience possible?"

Jongseong shifts uncomfortably under the weight of the hostess's scrutiny, his mind racing with uncertainty. He hadn't expected this encounter to be so challenging. Every instinct tells him to tread cautiously, to protect himself from potential danger while still satisfying his hunger.

"I... I'm looking for something," Jongseong finally manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper. "Something... off the menu, so to speak."

The hostess raises an eyebrow, her expression unreadable as she considers his request but she doesn’t budge, in fact, she crosses her arms, clearly having enough of this encrypted conversation. Jongseong needs to be straightforward if he wants to leave here fully satisfied.

The password.

How could he forget that Jake had texted him a password? Once Jake had asked his friend Jungwon for more details, he said the only way to get into the back area with the other vampires was with a password. Jongseong’s brain has been so clouded since he walked in here that he completely forgot the one important detail.

"Dracaena Trifasciata," he manages to utter, though his pronunciation leaves much to be desired. Still, the hostess's reaction tells him he got the message across, her bored expression transforming into a sly smirk.

As Jongseong watches, spellbound, the hostess's transformation leaves him momentarily breathless. Her once closed-off demeanour now radiates warmth and familiarity, as if she's greeting an old friend rather than a stranger.

"My little crimson crusader," she purrs, her voice sending a shiver down Jongseong's spine. "Why didn't you just say so?"

Her words are like a siren's call, drawing Jongseong closer until he stands before her, unable to resist her magnetic presence. As she reaches across the desk, her hands beckoning him nearer, Jongseong obeys without hesitation, his curiosity mingled with a sense of trepidation.

With deft fingers, she undoes the first few buttons of his crisp white shirt, her touch sending sparks of electricity dancing across his skin. He feels a flutter of nerves in the pit of his stomach as her hands glide over his chest, exploring with an intimacy that leaves him feeling exposed and vulnerable.

She tilts her head, her gaze locking with his in a silent exchange of understanding. Jongseong can't tear his eyes away from hers, captivated by the depths of emotion swirling within them.

Despite the warmth of her touch, Jongseong can't shake the feeling of unease that gnaws at the edges of his consciousness. There's something about her that feels off, something that sets his instincts on edge. She isn’t a vampire, the heat of her touch is enough to clarify, but she is certainly no human.

But as he stands there, caught in her gaze, he finds himself unable to pull away. Whatever she is, whatever secrets she holds, Jongseong knows one thing for certain: he's in deeper than he ever imagined, and there's no turning back now.

As she pulls away, a sense of relief washes over him, though he can still feel the lingering intensity of the hostess's gaze. Standing upright behind her desk once more, she regards him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, "You're a lot younger than those we see around these parts. You can't be any more than 160," she muses, her perceptive gaze honing in on Jongseong's youthful aura.

"I'm 148," Jongseong admits quietly, a hint of embarrassment colouring his tone. He's never given much thought to his age, existing as a perpetual 21-year-old who happened to live through 3 plagues and 2 world wars.

Pouting playfully, the hostess holds a hand over her heart in mock sympathy, "Aw, you're just a baby," she coos, her tone patronising. The remark sends a surge of irritation coursing through Jongseong, his shoulders tensing and his jaw clenching involuntarily.

He suppresses the urge to retort, reminding himself to tread carefully in this unfamiliar territory. Despite the hostess's seemingly jovial demeanour, there's an underlying edge to her words that sets him on edge.

Circling the desk, the hostess stands in front of the young vampire, her body dangerously close to his as she leans up and presses her lips to his ear, “Follow me, I’ll lead you to everything you’re starving for,” she whispers. Jongseong feels a shiver run down his spine as the hostess's warm breath caresses his ear, her words sending a jolt of anticipation through him. Despite the warning bells ringing in the back of his mind, he finds himself unable to resist the allure of her invitation.

_____

As Jongseong weaves through the crowded club, his senses are assaulted by the mingling scents of sweat, alcohol, and, most tantalizingly, human blood. Each passerby sends a wave of hunger coursing through him, his fangs threatening to descend at any moment. But he clenches his jaw, reminding himself of his resolve to abstain from feeding on humans. Yet, isn’t that what he’s on his way to do?

Beside him, the hostess effortlessly navigates the throng of clubgoers, her presence commanding attention wherever she goes. She greets familiar faces with a knowing smile, exchanging pleasantries with ease. Jongseong can't help but marvel at her confidence and poise, even as his own nerves threaten to betray him.

Eventually, they reach a door marked "Staff," but as the hostess swings it open, Jongseong is met with an unexpected sight - a long, dimly lit brick corridor stretching out before him. The hostess glances back at him, urging him to follow with a subtle gesture.

With a mixture of apprehension and curiosity, Jongseong steps through the doorway, the weight of uncertainty heavy on his shoulders. He can't shake the feeling that he's venturing into uncharted territory, but with the promise of satisfying his hunger looming before him, he presses on.

As they reach the end of the corridor, Jongseong's heart quickens with anticipation, his senses heightened as they stand before the heavy, rusty door, “It’s just through here…” she trails off, silently asking for his name.

“Jongseong,” he replies, bowing his head in politeness.

"Jessica," she offers in return, a slight grin playing on the corners of her mouth. Her simple gesture of introducing herself somehow eased the tension that had been coiling in his chest.

Jessica pushes open the door, revealing what can only be described as another reality. As Jongseong crosses the threshold, he feels as if he has been transported to a place beyond his imagination. The space before him is bathed in a delicate, ethereal glow, and the air vibrates with a palpable energy that awakens his senses. Peculiar symbols decorate the walls, their significance unknown to Jongseong but imbuing the place with an aura of ancient mysticism.

Jongseong's eyes widen in astonishment as he takes in the scene before him. The space beyond the heavy door is bustling with activity, filled with vampires from every generation lounging on plush couches and perched on bar stools. Gone is the facade of the club he had entered earlier; this is the true heart of Red Ocean.

The lavish area makes Jongseong question everything he has ever known. How many places are there like this? He hadn’t heard about this secret club until only a few days ago, so how long has it been here?

More importantly, “Uh, how much is this service?” he asks timidly as his eyes still scouting around the area where vampires are chatting away as if they aren’t deadly creatures of the night.

“Oh baby boy, don’t worry about that,” she smirks, turning to face him. It’s an ominous response, one that doesn’t fill him with much confidence, but he’s so hungry and weak that he can’t afford to pass up this opportunity due to mere scepticism. As long as it doesn’t break the bank, he’s willing to pay whatever he needs to quench this thirst.

The air in this new section of the club only serves to make him feel weaker like it’s sucking the breath from his lungs.

As Jessica looks around the room, his eyes follow, leading him to see a beautiful girl leaning against the bar, nursing her drink. The hostess’ face beams as she ushers the mystery girl over, much to Jongseong’s delight.

He might only be here to feed but who says he can’t indulge in these needs with someone beautiful like her?

“Y/N! Over here,” Jessica shouts, gesturing her friend forward.

As you hear Jessica's call, you set your drink down, licking the remnants of the sweet beverage from your lips. It’s been a slow night for you, your usual boy cancelling last minute, leaving you in desperate need of someone new, someone to play with.

Snaking your way towards the awkward boy, you make sure your movements are purposeful, each sway of the hip intentional as you lure him into your vice. He’s a pretty little thing, much prettier than half of the men here, so you find yourself trying to grip him with your movements, beckoning him closer with every step.

As you approach him, you can't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through you. There's something about him that sets him apart from the others in the room, something that makes your pulse quicken with anticipation.

This is going to be a fun night.

"You are just the girl I need to treat my little sucky cup here well," Jessica states with a teasing grin, tracing her hand down Jongseong's arm, causing him to swallow deeply, "Could you take him off my hands?"

As you get closer, a rush of exhilaration runs through you. Jongseong's lingering gaze on you, hunger and desire in his eyes, just adds gasoline to the fire that is blazing within you.

Stepping closer, you rub his chest, much like the hostess had done but your touch is a lot more enticing, the way your fingertips linger on his skin a little too long causes his dick to twitch and his knees to crumble, as if he wanted to bow down and worship the ground you walked on.

Your leg slips between his, your knee rubbing against his inner thigh, close enough that he can feel it near his cock but far away enough to have him whining for more contact, "What's your name, baby?" you ask softly, your voice dripping with seduction as you look up at him through hooded eyes. You can see the desire burning in his gaze, the hunger for something more, and you're more than willing to give him what he craves, even if he doesn’t quite know what that is yet.

Jongseong's chest tightens at your touch, and his senses are overwhelmed by the magnetism you exude. With each passing second, he becomes fascinated by your presence, unable to resist the pull of attraction that draws him closer to you.

"Jongseong...Jay....Jongseong," he replies, his voice a frantic whisper. Your proximity, mixed with the gentle motions of your body against his, causes him to feel dizzy with need.

You stifle a laugh as your nails dig into his chest, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Jongseong. "Jongseong Jay Jongseong, I’m Y/N," you purr, your voice dripping with seduction, "Would you like me to take you somewhere with a little more privacy?"

Your gaze meets his with an intensity that sends a shiver down his spine, your fingers digging into his flesh with a mixture of pleasure and pain. "Or would you like to have an audience?" you continue, your eyes wandering to the left.

Jongseong follows your gaze, his heart pounding in his chest as he takes in the scene before him. To the left, round couches are cluttered with vampires indulging in their primal desires, feeding from their claimed workers, fucking into them with velocity. Some couples are locked in passionate embraces, their bodies entwined in a frenzy of lust, while others simply watch on, their eyes gleaming with arousal.

One particular couple catches Jongseong's attention, the sight of blood dripping down the girl's body as she relishes the feeling of a vampire pounding into her from behind, their shared moans only silenced by the loud music that surrounds the club. He hates to admit it, but it makes Jongseong’s dick twitch.

Peeling his eyes away, he returns his gaze to you, “Private, please.”

You withdraw your body from him, leaving him aching for your touch. You held so much power over him despite being a supernatural creature, "A gentleman, huh?" you tease, your voice dripping with amusement. "Let's see how long that lasts." He can't help but feel a sense of longing as you tease him with your words, your playful demeanour only adding to the intensity of his need.

If he was starving before, he’s ravenous now.

You lightly intertwine your fingers with his as you pull him towards your private room, the knuckles of his hand brush along your ass as you stay a step in front of him. His eyes rake over the back of your body and take in the sight of you. You are perfect in every way, your body exactly his type, the lingerie set you have on is a beautiful white laced number that leaves nothing to the imagination.

Jongseong is too busy admiring the way your ass cheeks jiggle as you walk that he doesn’t even notice you opening the door and leading him in. Your presence is like a drug all on its own, like he needs to surrender himself to you to experience the full pleasure.

The moment Jongseong sets his eyes on the room and not your body, he's enveloped in a world of sensual decadence and luxury. The walls are draped in rich, red and gold fabrics, casting the space in a warm, inviting glow. Intricate patterns adorn the walls, adding a touch of opulence to the intimate setting.

In the centre of the room sits a large, lavish round bed, its sheets adorned with intricate designs that shimmer in the soft light. The bed beckons invitingly, promising hours of pleasure and indulgence for those who dare to partake.

To one side of the room, a collection of toys is splayed out in the corner, their presence adding a hint of playful excitement to the air. From silk restraints to feathered ticklers, the array of implements promises endless possibilities for exploration and delight.

But that’s not what he is here for, he is here for a quick feed to tide him over for the next few weeks until he can go out hunting again. This is transactional and absolutely nothing more.

Lighting a few candles on the mantlepiece, you hear him speak up behind you, “Uhm, you should know that I’m not here to have sex or anything, I just need to feed a little,” he confesses.

The room, though exquisitely decorated, suddenly feels charged with tension as Jongseong's words hang in the air. The candles flicker softly, casting dancing shadows across the red and gold decor as you turn to face him, your expression unreadable.

"Excuse me?" you respond, your voice laced with disbelief. For a moment, Jongseong can sense a flash of anger in your eyes, a flicker of indignation at his suggestion.

But before he can backtrack, Jongseong rushes to explain himself, his words tumbling out in a frantic rush. "I'll pay for the full service!" he blurts out, desperation evident in his voice. "But to be honest, I just need some blood, that's all."

You laugh, slowly sleeking your way back to him. If he was turned on by the view of you from the back, he was foaming at the mouth as he took in the sight of your breasts spilling slightly out of the white-laced cups.

“Jongseong, who told you about this place?” you ask, leading him to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“A friend of a friend,” he replies, trying not to touch your sides with his big hands despite the urge that flows through him.

To make matters harder for him, you straddle Jongseong's lap and a surge of arousal courses through him at the feeling of your barely covered pussy pressing against his covered cock. His breath catches in his throat as you wrap your arms around his neck, your proximity overwhelming his senses.

"And did this friend of a friend tell you about our services? What it entails?"

With a playful pout, you gaze into his eyes, your seductive gaze leaving him feeling helpless under your spell. His mind goes blank, his thoughts scattered as he struggles to gather his thoughts in the face of your overwhelming allure. All he can do is shake his head in response to your question, his lips parting slightly in silent anticipation.

Blinking slowly, you draw him in closer, your silent command irresistible as he leans towards you, drawn by an invisible force he can't resist. And as your lips hover mere inches apart, you whisper words that send a shiver down his spine.

"You feed from my blood," you murmur, your voice sending a thrill through him as you grind down onto him, eliciting a shallow moan that you swallow eagerly, "And I feed from your desire."

It’s like something finally clicks in his brain; the lack of energy, the pull you have on him, his hunger replaced with a burning desire, the password being a succulent snake plant. You were no human.

“You're a succubus,” he whispers, the words hanging in the air as confirmation of what he's known deep down all along.

Placing your hands on his cheeks, you hold him in place as you swipe your tongue along his lip, tasting him for the first time. He tastes like honey, the sweetest taste you won’t be able to get enough of.

Taking his hands that are clenched tightly by his sides, you open them up and place them on your breasts which he happily obliges, “We can be called many things, succubi, Lilith’s angels, demons, the list is endless.”

As Jongseong squeezes your tits, you feel a surge of pleasure course through you, the sensation heightened by the contrast between the supple softness of your skin and the rough texture of your lingerie. Despite his attempts to resist, he finds himself unable to break free from your hold, drawn deeper into the web of desire you've woven around him. Even if he wasn’t under your spell, he doesn’t really know if he would want to stop anyway.

"We can be called many things - succubi, Lilith's angels, demons," you murmur, your voice dripping with seduction as you revel in his touch. "The list is endless."

As you speak, Jongseong can feel the weight of centuries of history and lore pressing down on him, the knowledge that vampires and succubi have long been intertwined, using one another to get what they need. But while vampires may pose a threat to humans with their insatiable thirst for blood, succubi wield power far more dangerous, feeding off human desire and emotional vulnerability.

Thus, Archangel Michael made it his mission many years ago to rid God’s great earth of any incubi and succubi, summoning his choir to catch them and burn their souls. The purge started in the 1910s, causing most demons like you to go into hiding, to save yourself from obliteration.

It makes sense why Jongseong had never heard of this secret part of the club before, they had a lot to lose if news got out. For Michael’s choir, if they were to find out about this place, they would have a field day, picking apart each and every one of them.

You see his brain ticking and it makes you giggle, “We can help one another out, no?” you pose the question, knowing you can make him say whatever you need him to, to do whatever you please with him. Flicking your hair to the side, you expose your pure nape, “C’mon Jongseong, aren’t you starving?” you say seductively, your tone hushed as you emphasise the word starving.

Jongseong’s hand reaches up to touch your exposed neck to feel the blood pumping through your veins. He can hear it coursing along your neck, begging to be drunk by him. He licks his lips in longing, knowing that what he craves is just under your thin layer of skin.

As Jongseong's body reacts to your touch, his primal impulses take control, pushing him to the brink of want. His trousers tighten, a physical indication of his intense yearning. In his mind, he tells himself that you, your power, that is causing him to feel this way. But deep down, a nagging doubt persists: is it truly you, or are his own primitive urges driving him to the point of desperation?

Lost in the haze of lust, Jongseong finds himself unable to distinguish between reality and desire. The line between craving your blood and yearning to be buried deep inside your heat blurs, leaving him consumed by a frenzied need that threatens to overwhelm him.

His finger pricks your neck, drawing some blood as a taster out of the tiny wound. Involuntarily, his fangs protrude as he smells your sweet crimson blood, his mouth watering at the idea of devouring you right here, right now.

You know you’ve won, you’re going to get what you need and all at the expense of a tiny bit of blood, “That’s it, baby, give in to temptation,” you urge him, pulling his face closer to your neck. You can feel his breath ghosting over the wound and it makes your body press itself against him, seeking your own form of satisfaction.

Finally, he gives in, licking up the droplet of blood that seeps out of your neck before piercing you harshly. He savours the taste of your blood on his tongue, his senses ablaze with euphoria. Demon blood is intoxicating, having the same effect on vampires as alcohol does on humans, leaving vampires delirious with pleasure. He’s gentle compared to the older men you’ve had, meaning he has some form of restraint in him left.

Undoing his buttons, you slip off his shirt past his shoulders, hands roaming over his tanned skin as you crave to feel every inch of him. You tickle up his sides softly, causing his arms to instinctively pull you closer, pressing your tits against his bare chest as he revels in the sensation.

Retracting from your neck, his mouth stained with your blood, Jongseong's eyes meet yours with a newfound determination, "Stop controlling me," he demands, his voice laced with defiance as he challenges your hold over him.

But you shake your head, refusing to relinquish your grip, "Sorry, I can't do that," you reply, your tone unapologetic, "It's the only way I can get my end of the deal."

Jongseong bristles at your refusal, his determination only growing stronger, "Stop controlling me, and I'll fuck you properly," he challenges, his words a bold declaration of his intent.

Capturing your lips in his, he bites down on your bottom lip, sucking the sweet blood from it as he loses himself in the moment, bucking his hips up to rub his jeans against your clit, sending a wave of pleasure through your body.

In that moment, Jongseong proves himself to be more than just another vampire under your control. With his youth and vigour, he possesses a raw intensity that sets him apart, igniting a fire within you that burns hotter than ever before.

Licking along his right fang to taste your own blood, you moan out, craving him more than anyone ever before, “Fine. But don’t disappoint me, baby. I would hate to use you like a puppet,” you whisper back, your tongue collecting more of your blood from his chin.

In a flash, Jongseong feels like he finally has his energy back, that weight of your control finally lifted, leaving him the opportunity to do whatever he wants with you. Although he knew the intensity of your manipulation, he hadn’t realised how freeing it was to be in control of his own body.

Quickly, he lifts you up and tosses you on the bed, his strength showing as you fly up to the middle of the large bed. His display of strength only fuels your desire for him further.

You pull him by his neck to hover over you, kissing him messily as you breathe in his need for you, “Tell me what gets you off,” you say quietly, a smirk playing on your lips as you lend your hand down to cup his cock through his jeans, “You want me to suck you off?”

Jongseong groans into the kiss, the idea of your pretty lips around his shaft only sending him further into a tizzy, “Fuck yes, Princess. You think you can handle it?” his grip lands on your throat, squeezing it tightly as he shuts off your airwaves for a millisecond, “You think your tiny little mouth and throat can take me all the way?”

He originally came in here for your blood, but now all he’s thinking about is how he needs you bent over every surface, in every position, and having you begging for him. Something is appealing to him to hold so much power over one of hell’s strongest demons. Especially in your own playground.

You haven’t seen his cock, but your mouth starts to water just at the thought of it. Honestly, you didn’t expect him to be so vocal and demanding considering when you saw him he looked like he turned into the wrong club.

Maybe he was full of surprises.

Pushing him off you with all your might, you take control once again, “Edge of the bed, baby,” you instruct, sticking by your promise to not manipulate him into doing what you want, however, if he proves to be difficult, you might need to take things into your own hands.

Luckily, he’s an obedient little bat, taking off his bottoms before sitting down, stroking his thick cock as he waits for you to get into position.

You give him a light kiss on his lips before trailing down his neck. Your actions leave your wounds seeping in front of him, inviting him to drink your blood once more. It stops you in your tracks but you don’t mind, the sensation of his hot, wet tongue licking over your wounds somehow made your pussy throb.

His fangs are anchored into you, stopping you from moving. He can’t get enough of you, your blood slowly turning into an addiction as he drains you, feeding himself full of you.

Reaching your hand down, you grab his cock and yank it, causing him to yelp and withdraw his mouth from you. Jongseong’s eyes are wide as if questioning your intentions but you only offer him a laugh as a response, kissing into his mouth as you stroke him slowly.

Your soft hands feel amazing on his member, the way you expertly tug and squeeze him in all the right ways, it’s sensational, but he needs more. One of his hands pulls your face, holding it tightly in place as he stares deep into your eyes, “Are you going to suck my cock like you promised? Or do I have to fuck your throat instead?”

If you weren’t already wet, you were now. It’s as if he knows exactly what to say to get your motor running like he somehow knows all your turn-ons. Placing one last kiss on his lips, you snake down to his hardened length, tip pink with arousal. It’s so inviting, practically begging to be sucked.

Swiftly, you take his head into your mouth, sucking eagerly as you look up at him, eyes glistening with want and need.

Jongseong moans out, the sight of you taking his cock in your pretty mouth while your blood is smudged all over your lips, it’s a sight he wants to etch into his brain forever. For all the years he’s been alive, this might be his favourite moment.

You love it too. As Jongseong's desire amplifies, you feel a surge of energy coursing through you, fueled by the intensity of his lust. It's a sensation unlike any other, the raw power of his desire feeding into your own, replenishing your energy with every breath he takes.

Taking him deeper into your mouth, you lay your tongue flat and bop your head up and down at a perfect pace. Jongseong grips your hair tight, creating knots in the strands as he pulls at your roots. The motion elicits a hum from your throat, sending a vibration through his cock straight to his tight balls.

“Fuck, Princess, you’re so fucking good at that,” he states the obvious, knowing that you do this often, but this was a new experience for him, not one person has ever come close to sucking cock as good as you do.

You smile as you look up at him, your cunt dripping from his praises. It means something more when the men you’re with are saying those sorts of things out of their own free will, not because you’re feeding those thoughts into their minds.

Jongseong can feel himself getting close, ready to cum down your throat and have you swallow it. He thrusts into your mouth, now taking charge as he pushes your head down and bucks up, the back of your throat not stuffed with his fat cock.

“I’m gonna cum, Y/N,” he warns before shooting his load down your throat, each spurt making you gag as you struggle to swallow it.

With his hand on your neck, Jongseong massages your throat, coaxing you to open wider and take in everything he has to offer. As he presses deeper into you, he can feel his length snugly nestled within your channel, the pressure from his hand adding to the pleasure coursing through him.

Finally, sensing your need for air, Jongseong pushes you off of him, allowing you to finally catch your breath. Despite not having even fucked you yet, you feel completely satiated, your body thrumming with the energy you've drawn from him.

You’re throat and face is red as you regulate your breaths, your voice hoarse as you begin to speak, “Did I meet your expectations?” you ask, biting your lip as you straddle him once more, his cock laying against your thigh.

Nodding, he pushes your hair back from your forehead, “You’re fucking unreal,” he whispers.

Laughing, you take hold of his spent cock, pumping him softly, “Can you fuck me, or is our session done?” you ask, hoping for a certain answer.

With his sensitive cock in your hand, he hisses, shutting his eyes as he revels in the sensation. He wants nothing more than to bend you over and fuck you senseless, but he needs to replenish the energy that he’s given away to you.

Jongseing takes your other hand, bringing your wrist to his lips. As he kisses your veins, his eyes remain locked onto yours, his teeth ready to sink in and take what he needs once again. Swiftly, he sinks his fangs in, causing you to tighten your grip on his dick, causing the vampire to moan out loudly.

You take it as a sign to keep going, stroking him until he is hard again.

The mixture of your hand working his oversensitive length and the blood he’s slurping out of you push his adrenaline to a new level, his energy replenished and his need to take you even more prominent than before.

Reluctantly, he removes himself from your wrist, kissing it softly before giving you it back, “I’m going to fuck you so good, you’re going to beg to be my personal blood bag,” he whispers, primal thirst for blood overtaking his body. But you don’t mind, truthfully, you like this side of him, it gets you off seeing him take control of you.

With a firm grip on your ass, Jongseong lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the centre of the bed and laying you down gently. Your heart pounds in anticipation as he moves your thong aside, exposing your glistening pussy to his hungry gaze.

Desperate for release, you wrap your legs around his hips, grinding your folds against his throbbing cock in search of any form of relief. The friction sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, igniting a fire that spreads up to your stomach.

Jongseong's desire burns hot as he positions himself between your legs, his eyes locking with yours as he prepares to claim you as his own. At that moment, there's no room for hesitation or restraint - only the need to lose yourselves in the ecstasy of each other's embrace.

You arch your back, urging him to take you completely. The anticipation builds between you, each moment stretching out into eternity as you both crave the release that only each other can provide.

“Tell me you want it,” he demands, his mouth finding its way back to your neck. Mewling out, you try to push his cock inside of you but he holds steady, resisting your advances, “You were being so good earlier, what happened?” he tuts.

As hot as it is for him to be in charge, you can’t stand him getting too cocky, "I want you, but that's the difference, isn't it? I want you, but you need me," you tease, running your tongue across your bottom lip in defiance.

Jongseong clenches his jaw, and his eyes deepen with want. Despite his efforts to retain control, your words create a fire within him, creating a need that threatens to swallow him completely. But he pulls himself back, determined to show you that he is still in control.

With that, he thrusts into you with a force that leaves you gasping for breath, your walls clenching around him in response to the sudden intrusion. Each movement is calculated and deliberate as he sets a punishing pace that leaves you trembling with pleasure.

He takes you roughly, his cock sliding effortlessly in and out of your wet heat. A moan escapes your lips as you feel him stuff you to the brink, the sensation overwhelming in its intensity. He’s holding no punches, making sure you know exactly who needs who.

Your nails dig into his back, leaving crescent-shaped marks in their wake as you cling to him desperately, your body writhing beneath his with unbridled passion. Every touch, every kiss, sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, igniting a fire that threatens to consume you entirely.

“Jongseong!” you cry out as he drives into you harder, making sure you feel every inch of him, your walls being battered by the strength of his large dick. He’s incredible, top 5 best fucks you’ve ever had.

As Jongseong sits up, his hands pressing firmly against your back to arch you, you feel a surge of pleasure course through you as he drives himself even deeper inside you. His commanding presence leaves you breathless, lost in the intensity of the moment, “Tell me you need me,” he hisses out, spanking your ass as he thrusts faster, “Go on, beg for it.”

His demand sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but cry out in ecstasy. Each thrust drives you closer to the edge, your body trembling with anticipation as he takes you to new heights of pleasure.

With your resistance cracking beneath the force of his want, you find yourself entirely succumbing to him. Your raw, needy voice fills the room as you scream for more, your words a desperate plea for relief.

"I need you, Jongseong," you cry, your voice full of longing, "I need you to fill me up, to give me your cum." Despite the roughness of his previous ministrations when he was fucking your throat silly, you find your voice somehow, driven by an intense yearning that runs through you.

A triumphant grin spreads across his face as you give in. He drags you up by your hair and makes you sit on his cock as he piledrives into you harder, the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot. Your neck is still pumping out blood but he knows he can do better than that; his teeth sink into you again, tearing the flesh as he rips into you, feeding from you like a man starved for centuries. The blood drips down onto your white lingerie, turning it pink.

In the throes of ecstasy, pure bliss envelops you both as you reach the pinnacle of pleasure, screaming out each other's names in a symphony of release.

"Jongseong!" you cry out, your walls clenching tightly around him as he spills his seed deep inside you. His movements slow but remain powerful, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Your limbs go limp as you bask in the aftermath of your shared climax, your heat still clinging to him desperately, unwilling to let him go. Every inch of your being feels alive with pleasure as if you've been transported to another realm of existence.

Collapsing on top of you, Jongseong’s pants are short as he tries to catch his breath, his entire body exhausted. His tongue licks your wounds lazily, hoping it can heal you somewhat while also drinking every last drop of his dinner.

“You’re amazing, Y/N,” he whispers into your nape, “Are you okay? Was it too much?” he asks with genuine concern, warming your chest a little.

“I’m good, thanks, Jongseong,” your voice is hushed, the effort to speak proving too much.

He rolls off of you, examining your body to make sure there’s nothing bleeding out. You spot him doing this and laugh, “I’m fine, it takes a lot more to kill me than some vampire bites.”

It fills him with relief to know you’ll be okay. He hasn’t ever gone that far before, giving into his vampire urges so easily. He had lost complete control tonight, but as scary as that is, he wants to experience that again.

No deer or cow will ever compare to the sweet taste of you.

Almost like reading his mind, you lean against the headboard and speak up, “If you see Jess, she’ll be able to book you in for a next time.” Your eyes glimmer with mischief and also promise. You want to be devoured by him again by any means necessary.

Nodding, Jongseong begins to get dressed, using the wet cloths provided by the club to clean his face of any blood. It’s a shame that all that beautiful red nectar going to waste.

“What if I don’t come back?” he teases, a smirk gracing his beautiful face as he turns to you.

“You will, they always do.”

#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #jay smut #jongseong smut #park jongseong smut #aj writes

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edenavari · 3 months

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On the Matter of Mirrors

Eddie is still trying to convince Steve he and Nancy are made for each other. It comes up, like, everytime they hang out, which is all the time, because Steve couldn’t stay away if he wanted to. He doesn’t, but he also wishes Eddie would quit trying to set him up with someone else.

‘Cause, like, here’s the thing. Steve likes girls. He also, he realized sometime after Robin came out to him, quite likes boys. He likes Eddie. Like… Really likes him. Practices pick-up lines in front of the mirror kind of like. Wears a little more black and tousles his hair just right to give himself a subversive edge he never used to have, just the right amount to trigger a subconscious response without appearing to be tweaking his fashion sense at all. Has mastered the art of wearing eyeliner without looking like he’s wearing it, and it took him a fucking while to work up the nerve to go out like that, not that anyone but Robin noticed.

But Eddie just will not drop the Nancy case, no matter how many times Steve tries to stir the conversation away from her, and between his budding crush and the crushing fear that it’s never gonna be anything but one-sided, between the slightest of sore spots Steve still sports about the way things with Nancy ended in the first place and the bitter edge of never managing for something to start with Eddie after weeks of efforts, it’s beginning to grate, right?

“So what’s the problem?” Eddie insists, bounding circles around Steve like an eager puppy, and something in Steve’s ribcage snaps.

They’re in Steve’s room studying when it comes up once a-fucking-gain. Eddie is taking accelerated summer classes so he can finally graduate by September, and by some inexplicable fuckery of fate, despite Steve’s own dirt poor records, he’s turning out to be a decent tutor. Something about Eddie managing to focus in a way a classroom environment never allowed him to. Maybe because most teachers and over half the student body were openly hostile at worst and aggressively ignoring Eddie at best, all because of his last name or his tattoos or his loud brassy cheek.

All the same, Eddie does get distracted fairly easily, and an hour in, he’s bounced off the bed and started rattling reasons Nancy Wheeler is definitely Steve Harrington’s soulmate. Steve groans noncommittally, gets up to grab his water from the desk and takes a long swallow as Eddie keeps needling him.

“You’re the problem, Eddie,” he all but snarls, when he really meant it to come out exasperated at worst.

He snarls, though, and Eddie stiffens, his eyes going cold and hurt and the corner of his mouth turned down in anger.

“Right,” he says, and it sounds so casual Steve thinks he won’t make a big deal of his tone after all. Fool’s hope. “I’ll get out of your perfect hair, then,” Eddie spits out as he makes for the door, only Steve stands in his way, hands up in surrender.

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” he starts.

“No, you’re right, it’s none of my business,” Eddie interrupts, but he steps back, gesturing wildly as he speaks. “It’s not like we’re even friends, you just got saddled with me because of Dustin. We saved the world together? Big deal! My involvement was incidental, really, more of an inconvenience than any kind of help. Why would you want my opinion, of all people’s, right? Even by this point. Get out of my way, I’ll quit stepping on your toes. Go on!”

“I don’t want you to go, Eddie,” Steve tries again.

“Just want me to shut up, is that it? Not really my strong suit, you might have noticed.”

Steve can’t help smiling. “I have noticed.”

It only seems to rile Eddie up even more, throwing his hands out and making to step around Steve again. “Man, what do you want from me?”

“Is this allowed?” he breathes out, extending the last word beyond its scope.

Which puts him within reaching distance of Steve, who grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and presses him, careful not to jostle him too bad but firm enough to counter his manic strength, against the wall. He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything, just presses a touch too close, lets himself imagine that he’s going to close the distance entirely, cocks his head and licks his lips and hangs there in a way he hopes spells it out for Eddie without inducing any kind of panic.

Eddie, hands still up at shoulder height, lets out a little huff close to a whimper when his back hits the wall, bracing himself for a hit that would never come, and maybe some part of him knows this, because he doesn’t look scared or angry anymore, just kind of confused with a side of grief, and it doesn’t take two seconds for him to start to look intrigued, maybe even, if Steve allows himself a little optimism, interested.

His lips part on a sharp inhale, and they’re close enough to smell each other’s skin, and Eddie’s eyes drop to Steve’s mouth, a little watery and out of focus, edging forward in a way that could just be a twitch, just a consequence of holding his breath the way he is, plausibly deniable, subconscious no doubt, only when Steve mirrors the movement, he does it again, gaze moving up and down from Steve’s eyes to his lips and back and back again without blinking, until twitch by twitch their noses graze and their mouths connect and Steve closes his eyes and concentrates on maintaining that seal over Eddie’s plush, pliable pout, because if he didn’t focus, he’d be way, way overeager for a first kiss.

He moves back after several seconds with a shaky exhale, swallows as he finds Eddie’s eyes again. His blood is thrumming in his fingertips, somehow he feels both cold between his shoulder blades and warm down to his toes, and if Eddie looks at all put out he thinks he might never manage another mirror in his life.

The look on Eddie’s face is pure disbelief.

Steve shrugs, not quite settled on the matter of mirrors. “I thought you made a point of breaking the rules?”

A glint starts to wake in Eddie’s eye that’s looking more delighted by the minute.

“Just as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“We’re in the clear, then,” Steve whispers, leaning in, just a smidge.

Both of Eddie’s hands sink into his hair as he pulls him into another, much steamier, kiss. Steve lets his fists fall from Eddie’s lapels and knot over his back instead, lets his mouth drop slightly open, an invitation Eddie wastes not a second to follow through on, teeth scraping and back arching like he wants to sink all the way into Steve, and by the time they’re parting, breathless, cheeks flushed, mouths stinging, Steve’s one hand is braced against the wall, holding himself up, knees too weak to do the job on their own.

“I thought you could barely stand me,” Eddie heaves.

“I can’t,” Steve admits. “You drive me nuts. Just not how you thought.”

Eddie frowns, suddenly serious.

“You should forget all about Nancy.”

Steve frowns too. “That so?”

“Hm-mm. She’s taken, man. And not all that. You need to move on.”

“Damn,” Steve sighs. “Am I being desperate?”

“Pathetic,” Eddie nods, barely a whisper against Steve’s lips, and they break into smiles in tandem. “Forget all about her,” Eddie repeats.

“Who?” Is the last word Steve gets out. Then he’s busy enough he really does forget.

When he fixes his hair in the bathroom mirror in the morning, he walks away with a wink.

Give us a kudos, if ye dare x

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steddie oneshot #first kiss

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jerseymuppet · 1 year

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I’m so fucking sick of people calling Ray the “normal” one in mcr. He’s so far from normal. Not only is he just as weird and strange as the others, but he may actually be worse, he’s the definition of balls to the wall. Like, do you know the type of person you have to be to be best friends with Gerard Way for over two decades? And to know them so well its like you’re an extension of their creative process? To be able to make those weird little dream in his head a reality? Do you know how absolutely off kilter your brain has to be? Ray wrote the instrumentation for the Breakfast Monkey pilot. He loves wrestling so much, there’s a decent chance you can watch an old WWE match and see him in the crowd losing his mind. He used to carry a little spider man action figure in his pocket all the time. He learned how to play guitar by ear, by listening to his favorites and then mashing the lead and rhythm guitar parts together, that’s why he plays Like That now. He has a degree in film, and wrote and filmed a short where a guy is obsessed with eggs and goes insane when he can’t open the last one in his dozen. He wrote mama on a dare. A dare. Like, hello!?!?!

#this is a community post. ray girls add your favorite crazy ray fact #ray fucking toro #i have more stuff i could add I’m just #I’m eating ice cream and chilling and thinking about how much i love ray toro #mcr #my chemical romance #ray toro #jude.txt

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apclyptc · 5 months

Text

DUMB— chris sturniolo x reader

synopsis: reader is smart and top of her class in college. chris however, is not too interested in her intelligence.

warnings: full on smut, swearing and also drinking/smoking, use of the pet name baby, use of the word slut, dumbification, oral (f! receiving), unprotected sex

“hit her from the back she can’t do nothing but yell,

and she smart as fuck i got this bitch straight out of yale”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Ever since you were younger, you seemed to have a gift for memorising and holding information. Because of this, people assumed you studied constantly.

Obviously, you did study. But it wasn’t like you didn’t have a social life. You enjoyed college parties like any other person would.

So when a guy in your class invited you to his frat house for a party, of course you didn’t refuse.

The only thing was, this guy just happened to be Chris.

He was in your social studies class, usually sat at the very back with a couple of his friends in the lecture. You knew of each other, having shared mutual friends from other classes. You’d never really spoken to him one-to-one, mainly because he was always socialising with pretty much everyone, and while you weren’t shy, you also weren’t a huge fan of jumping into conversations with people who all knew each other prior.

It also didn’t help that Chris was the most attractive man you had seen in college, or maybe in your life.

You were good at hiding it, but he made you nervous. Of course, when he invited you to his fraternity house, you faked an air of confidence so you didn’t weird him out.

“Hey, it’s Y/N, right?” Chris began, and when you affirmed with a nod he continued, “I’m throwing a party tonight, you should come.” He threw a smile in your direction, and you pushed down the immediate feeling of giddiness before answering.

“Yeah sure, sounds good. When does it start?” You asked nonchalantly as you could.

“Around 10. You can come whenever, it will be on way into the morning anyway.”

“Great. Am I good to bring a couple friends?” You replied, not wanting to walk into a party alone.

“Yeah that’s fine with me. Ask your friend Lola, my buddy Nate has a thing for her. Just don’t tell him I told you that.” He smirked at you.

That smirk. You wished you could see that smirk while he was hovering over you as he sla—

“Lola, yeah! I’ll bring her along with me.” You snapped out of your less than decent reverie and gave Chris a response.

“Perfect. I’ll see you there, Y/N.” He gave a quick glance up and down your body before turning and walking away from you.

It was then you realised, you had absolutely nothing to wear. Plus, since Chris just personally asked you, you decided you may as well dress as hot as possible.

Y/N: hey lola, frat party tonight?

Lola: do u even have to ask??? usually it’s me dragging u to these things

Y/N: true lmao. i’m gonna need to borrow something from ur closet

Lola: ooooh why, do u need smth slutty?

Y/N: maybe

maybe i was personally invited by the party thrower

Lola: who

Y/N: chris 😇

Lola: GIRL-

ok ok i’ll give u the sluttiest thing i can find

come over later and we can pick something out for u

A couple of hours later once you were finished at college, you headed to your best friend Lola’s dorm.

You two had spent what seemed like hours choosing each other’s outfits.

“By the way, a little birdie told me that Nate has a thing for you.” You eyed Lola up, knowing she had a soft spot for him.

“Oh, really? That’s interesting. Totally unrelated but would you still happen to have that box of condoms I gave you for secret santa last year?” Lola gave you a suggestive look, raising her eyebrows.

“Of course. Already put two in my bag.” You both laughed.

You arrived at the party at 11:27, mainly because no one turns up to a party on time, but also because Lola took a ridiculous amount of time to get ready.

You met up with a couple of girls from the dorms opposite Lola, seeing as they were also invited.

As soon as you arrived, you were immediately shown to the kitchen where an array of bottles were displayed.

Vodka, whiskey, rum, tequila and practically any spirit you could think of, were decorated around the kitchen.

You grabbed two cups, one for you and Lola, and filled it with vodka and soda.

“Hey, I think I see Nate and Chris over there.” Lola points behind you through to the games room, where lo and behold, Nate and Chris were playing what looked like an intense game of beer pong.

The two of you walked over to them, Nate noticing you first.

“Hey! Come help me win the game, Lola.” He gestured for her to play with him.

Chris had then turned around to see you, that smirk appearing yet again.

“You gonna help me?”

You took a quick swig of the contents in your cup before joining Chris at the table.

“Atta girl. Nice of you to bring Lola for my bro.” He spoke in a low voice so that only you could hear.

“Chris, stop flirting and throw the damn ball.” Nate teased, and you felt your cheeks grow red.

Chris threw the ball into the cup closest to him, the object landing into the beer and making a splash.

“Drink up, fool.” he glanced at you to make sure you were watching.

After a while, you had enough to drink to give you a confidence boost, and were now invested in the game of beer pong.

It was down to one cup each, and you had to make the final shot.

“Come on, Y/N,” Chris spoke from behind you, “you got it.”

It was too hard to concentrate with his voice so close to your ear, and his body so close to yours. You threw the ball, but it narrowly missed the cup.

“Yes! Chris you’re a loser!” Nate laughed at his best friend across from the table, throwing his arm around Lola who had locked eyes with you as he did this.

‘Don’t forget the condom’, you mouthed to her playfully, and she winked, pointing to her pocket.

Nate and Lola had then disappeared together, leaving you alone with Chris.

“Sorry I missed the cup.” You joked.

“Apology accepted. You wanna smoke with me?” He pulled out a perfectly rolled joint from his pocket.

You weren’t a huge smoker, only joining with Lola occasionally when you felt like unwinding.

Nevertheless you agreed, deciding you may as well since you were at a party.

Chris lead you upstairs into his room. Your eyes immediately glanced around the room, taking in its appearance.

Chris sat on the edge of his bed, and you followed.

“Could you get my lighter, it’s in the top drawer over there.” He pointed to the bedside table at the wall, and you grabbed the device, passing it to him which he thanked you for.

“Lola and Nate seem to hit it off.” You spoke.

Chris held the joint between his lips, lighting it before replying, “he’s down bad for her. Has been for a while.”

You giggled to yourself, knowing Lola felt the same about him. It was a good feeling for you, because you knew Nate was a nice guy.

“They’re a good match. Nate’s a good guy for her." You responded, watching Chris take the first hit of weed and exhaling the thick smoke.

“Yeah? Is that what you’re into? Nice guys?” He asked you, taking another hit before passing it to you.

You took the joint from his hand and inhaled.

“I guess. I think I prefer someone more… unpredictable.” You had Chris in mind as you answered. You had yet to figure out why he invited you here himself, since you didn’t know each other that well.

“In what way?”

“I don’t know, someone I can’t figure out. I like to be kept on my feet, someone like Nate is easy to understand because he’s straightforward. Which is great for Lola, she deserves someone who is like that.” You thought about all the past few guys Lola had a thing with. They weren’t that nice.

You passed the joint back to Chris who had his eyes trained on you as you spoke.

“So you like the tension, not knowing when or if someone wants you.” He tried to understand.

“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice when it’s easy. But..” You trailed off.

“It’s more fun not to know.” Chris finished your trail of thought as if he knew the feeling.

“Exactly.”

A comfortable silence sat between you, passing the joint back and forth until it was gone.

“I have a question.” You asked, breaking the silence.

Chris tapped the joint out on his bedside table, and brought his attention back to you, “Go ahead.”

“Why did you invite me here? I mean, it’s not that I didn’t want to come, it’s just that we haven’t really talked much.” You asked, needing to know.

Chris chuckled.

“I thought it was more fun not to know?” He smirked, using your own logic against you.

“Come on! Tell me.” You persisted.

Chris leaned in closer to you, and you could swear your heart was beating out of your chest.

“I always see you in class,” He began to explain, continuing to close the gap between you, “sitting close to the front, answering all the questions. You’re pretty smart, aren’t you?”

The tension was palpable, and you felt yourself grow wetter as his low voice penetrated your ears.

“I want an answer.” He demanded.

“I- I guess so.” Your voice wavered, all of a sudden finding it hard to speak.

“I’ve always wanted to see how long it takes until I can make you speechless.”

And it surely didn’t take long, because in moments his lips were on yours.

It was as if every guy you had dated never existed, the feeling of Chris kissing you overrode any experience you had thus far.

His left hand rested on the back of your neck while his other hand took the opportunity to roam around your body, from your thighs to your chest, until it landed on your waist.

Your hands swiftly made their way to his arm and hair, while deepening the kiss he had started.

In a quick movement he lifted you onto his lap, letting both his hands find purchase on your waist.

With your arms wrapped around his neck, you slowly moved your hips rhythmically, earning a soft grunt from him.

Pulling away, he spoke, “You want to do this?”

You nodded, before asking the same of him.

“Do you?”

That same smirk that sent you reeling reappeared again.

“Does this answer your question?” He grinded his hips upwards into you, allowing you to feel his growing hard-on.

A whine escaped from your lips.

“No more talking.”

You reconnected your lips to his, the energy of the room turning into heated passion.

Chris’ hands slowly dragged down to your ass, kneading them with roughness.

You whined again, unable to stop any sounds from leaving your mouth.

The sound of the ongoing party downstairs could be faintly heard from inside the room, but you paid it no mind. You couldn’t, not while Chris had all his attention on you.

He briefly paused to take off the top you were wearing, and then resumed with his skilled tongue, sliding against yours. He took you off his lap, not separating from you for a moment as he laid you down on your back.

“Such a smart girl in class,” he pulled his shirt over his head and threw it behind him, “Does anyone know that you’re really just a little slut?” He kissed your neck, then your jaw.

“I need an answer.” Chris demanded again, and you rubbed your thighs together in want.

“No.” You breathed.

“No, what?” His hand glided up your thigh, separating them.

“I’m not a slut.” You managed to find words.

“So if I reach in between your legs, right now, you won’t be dripping for me?”

You knew you were.

A hand snaked through your skirt, pulling aside your underwear, and he slowly dragged a finger down your pussy.

“I’ve barely touched you. Do you want me to? Want me to touch you right here?” His finger, coated in your slickness, inched its way inside, just enough for you to feel it, but not enough to satisfy you.

You bucked your hips up, trying to feel something, anything.

But Chris pulled his hand away, causing you to whine in frustration.

Luckily for you, he wanted to feel you so badly, he couldn’t tease you for long. He grabbed the hem of your skirt, pulling it down your legs and threw it in the same direction as his shirt.

“I want to hear you. You love opening that mouth when we’re in class.” And with that, he pulled your underwear aside and attached his mouth straight to your throbbing clit.

All you could do was moan and writhe in his bed as he delved into your wet cunt, licking up all the arousal like a starved man.

Your hands flew to his hair, tugging on it desperately. The vibrations from the groan that left his mouth sent waves of pleasure tearing through your body.

Chris’ hands dug into the flesh of your thighs as they instinctively tried to close around his head.

“Fuck, right there!” You moaned loudly as his tongue dove inside your hole.

One of his hands left your thigh and drew circles on your clit, causing you to arch your back at the white-hot pleasure you felt from his ministrations.

Chris could feel his dick pulsate through his pants at the sounds you were making. He needed to feel you.

“You want me to fuck you, huh? Fill you up good?” He asked, and you knew by now he wanted an answer.

“Please, please, please.” Were the only words you could muster, too high on the feeling Chris had given you with his mouth.

He wasted no time on giving you what you were begging for, quickly discarding his pants and boxers, along with your bra and soaked panties.

Lining himself up with your entrance, he slid his dick over the slick of your pussy and pushed the tip in.

Your eyes had shut in anticipation, but when he made no attempt to move you opened your eyes to look at him.

He had waited until you made eye contact with him before pushing his entire dick inside you.

You both moaned at the full feeling, your walls contracting around him.

After a few seconds, Chris began to move.

Thrusting in and out at a slow pace as if to torture you, he shuddered, revelling in the feeling of your tight cunt.

“Fuck, feels so good baby.” You whined at the pet name, bringing his face down so you could kiss him again.

He started picking up the pace after this, your tongues smashing together in absolute need.

“Faster, faster.” You babbled, drunk off the sensation of his cock piston in and out of you.

“Yeah? You want me to fuck you dumb?” He grunted, loving how you could barely string full sentences together.

“Yes, yes, please. Need you deeper.”

The dirty words spilling from your mouth caused him to moan, and he flipped you onto all fours.

“Wanna see that pretty little ass bounce while I fuck you.” He muttered as he entered you yet again.

His pace was relentless, his balls slapping against you from the way he was pounding deep inside you.

You were just making sounds as you tried to say “Harder, faster, more,” but the words couldn’t form properly.

“The slut wants more? Can’t even speak but you’re begging for more?” He taunted you from behind.

You felt a sharp slap on your ass, followed by a soothing rub directly after. You practically yelled as Chris’ hand came down, your cunt convulsing.

“Knew you’d like that,” he slapped your cheek again, “Can feel you squeezing around me.”

You could feel the knot in your stomach unraveling, and you knew you wouldn’t last longer.

“Chris, gonna cum.” You managed to speak between moans.

“Come on baby, need you to cum while I’m inside you.” He groaned, trying to hold his own release off.

His words guided you right to your orgasm, shaking and crying while you came.

“Fuck, you want my cum inside you? Want me to stuff you full?” His pace was losing rhythm, chasing his orgasm while simultaneously overstimulating you.

“Mm, cum inside me. Want to feel it.” You cried, thrusting into him so you could feel more of him.

“So good, feels so good. Oh, I’m gonna cum inside of you,” Chris rambled, “Gonna fill you up with it.”

His moans were uncontrollable, spilling out of him as he relished in the warm feeling of your pussy.

“Cumming.” He grunted, as ropes of his cum spurted out, coating your insides until there was nothing left.

You both took the time to catch your breath, as Chris pulled out of you with a shaky sigh.

“Let me get you a towel.”

You turned onto your back once more, trying to comprehend the mind blowing sex you just had while dozens of people were partying downstairs.

Chris came back with a towel, cleaning the both of you up and passing you your underwear back.

“Hey.” You finally spoke, tired from all the stamina you had just burned.

“Hey.” He replied back to you.

“That was… amazing.” You sighed.

“Yeah, it was fun.”

You weren’t sure if he wanted you to leave now, or if you were supposed to stay, so you opted to do nothing.

“Let me take you on a date.” He announced, and you laughed.

“Don’t you think we’ve done this all a little backwards?”

Chris smiled and brought your head to his shoulder.

“I guess I’m just unpredictable.”

You then remembered you didn’t even use the condom you brought with you. You’d have to make your first date with Chris a trip to the pharmacy.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

a/n haha…. always wear a condom, kids!

hope you enjoyed my first oneshot.

send me any requests you want me to write! i think i’m gonna do an nsfw alphabet next, for chris and matt too

#Spotify #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo oneshot

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targaryenluvs · 5 months

Note

OMG HUNGER GAMES!!!

Can i ask for a finnick odair with a winner female reader who she avoids but he is obsessed with and wants to marry in front of the whole capitol

Some dark-ish fluff

WANT AND DESIRE!

pairings: dark!finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: obession, stalking, nc kissing, forced engagement???

summary: you’d thought you’d escaped the capitol, and to some extent, him, the ever so sweet and charming finnick odair. but it seems your fate had been signed as it seemed you couldn’t get away from him no matter how hard you tried.

a/n: i actual hate writing dark stuff cuz i never know if it’s decent, I DO FLUFF GUYS WE CAN TAKE THAT ROUTE 😭 NOT PROOF READ

you wondered what you were going to get.

all the pastries infront of you were mouthwatering and the aroma had your stomach growling.

“i’d recommend the dark chocolate cakes, they practically melt in your mouth. but maybe something as sweet as you wants a change?” and there it was, the voice and person you’d hoped to avoid. at such a large capitol party your hopes were high but it seemed as if the man had a radar, with your name on it.

“finnick, how are you?” you feigned interest as you turned his way.

“better, now that i’ve seen you.” he beamed at you, undeniably happy. it’s not as if you weren’t interesting at all, or ugly, but you truly had no idea why he was so infatuated with you. you’d never given him any signs, or at least you didn’t think you had, you’d hardly ever talked to him. even if everybody loved him, you could tell something, was off.

“how sweet of you. there are so many people here, best if i try my best to meet as many as possible, have a nice night finnick.” you dismissed him as you placed the cake down, yes it was petty but the fact that he’d suggested eating it deterred you even more-so than it’s insanely sickening contents. “i’ll come with you, the people would love it. the capitols diamond and darling. there’s not a single pair of victors as great of a duo as us sweetheart.”

and as he linked your arms together, you were off. you thought it’d be better to just go with him, stand and smile as he talked. it would give you a slight break at least, but after so much time greeting people your face was threatening to fall apart. so after an hour or so you’d excused yourself to the bathrooms, unknowing of the blonde on your trail.

“are you okay y/n?” finnicks voice asked sweetly as you lowered the towel you were using to pat down your face. “what’re you doing in here? the party’s down stairs finnick.” what did he want? you are so fucking tired of this party and just wanted to leave, you’d been here for hours already, long enough to know that it’d be appropriate to do so. and you may or may not have wanted to put as many kilometres between yourself and finnick. “i just wanted to make sure you were okay, everyone’s asking for us.”

“you, they’re asking for you. i’ve been here for a while, everyone’s seen me. you haven’t, they want you. and if you’d mind letting me exit.” as you tried to move past your wrist was caught in his tight grip. “they want to see us both sweetheart, trust me, we’re much better together. can’t you see? all of the capitol loves us together, even the districts.”

“i don’t care, if i’m going to marry someone it’ll be someone i actually like.” the door slammed shut as you walked away from him. finnick laughed, if there was thing he loved about you, it was your short temper. he walked after you, his hand clutching the velvet box in his pant pocket, he was going to propose one day, why not now?

as you made your way through the place, fake smiles aimed at everyone, finnick caught up to you. “y/n, please.” you turned around, “what? what is it?” you shouted as the party’s attention zeroed in on the two of you. you could her muttering of the people and shuttering of cameras.

this bitch.

he was down on one knee, a huge diamond ring rested in the middle of a box. his eyes glistened, teary eyed. was this dickhead really crying? as if he’d waited his whole life for this moment. “finnick-” you warned as you raised your hand, only for him to grab it and pull himself up. people were cheering and clapping as he wrapped his arms around you.

“i have loved you, since the moment i saw you. everything about you is my favourite thing, your smile, your laugh, your eyes- your gorgeous, gorgeous eyes. there’s no part of me that could go on without you. i love you so much sweetheart, so please put me out of my misery and marry me, you’re the only person i could ever imagine myself with.”

say yes!

what a lucky girl!

i knew they’d get together.

the crowd around you egged you on to accept. how could you not? finnick odair, tribute, youngest victor, terribly handsome and the capitols darling. a catch in everyone’s eyes but they couldn’t be further from the truth. a man who’d purposefully proposed infront of the capitol, knowing you could never say no. god knows what snow would do to you, let alone the capitol for breaking their favourites heart. you weren’t worried for yourself too much, you’d been a hollow shell ever since your games, but your family? your parents and siblings didn’t deserve to be killed.

“i know you’re in shock sweetheart, but i’ll take that as a yes.” finnick kissed your forehead and then slid the ring onto your finger.

the crowd is deafening and the flashes blinding.

and as he kissed you again, you couldn’t help yourself from crying. as everyone viewed it as tears of joy for being in love but you knew the truth about finnicks love for you. there was none.

just want and desire.

#finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick imagine #thg #hunger games x reader #dark!finnick odair x reader

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gaysindistress · 26 days

Text

Things that I feel like would happen when you’re in a relationship with Astarion.

I started playing bg3 and i have it bad for this vampiric menace of a man.

misc character masterlist

Warnings: blood drinking, he’s a vampire so yeah

1. He’s basically a cat but gods forbid you tell him that.

I have a tortie and let me tell ya, she is the sassiest animal I’ve ever met. This cat will climb into the closet just high enough that the dogs can see her but can’t reach her. She will jump into the counter and stare at me because she knows she’s not allowed up there. She will bat at the screen in the window until it pops open and she can escape. But jokes on you! she doesn’t actually escape, she just goes to the back door and meows until someone lets her in.

Anyways this is exactly how Astarion is. He’s sassy but hides it as being a witty nobleman when he’s really just being the sass master. He will do things purely to get a reaction out of people i.e. when he attacked you the first time you met. There was no need to try and pull one over on you like that but he did it anyways because he can. If you get too close to Gale (aka talk to him), he will pout and give you the cold shoulder because gale ‘is such a bore and I’m obviously better company than that, darling.’

He will make the biggest scene if he feels like your attention is being pulled away from him. Oh you’re talking to Shadowheart by the fire later than usual? He’s glowering at your back from his tent until you look over your shoulder at him. When you make eye contact, he’s going to roll his eyes and huff as he throws open the tent flaps. Shadowheart chuckles under her breath because she knows exactly what’s happening.

The longer you’ve known each other, the bolder he gets. He’ll add more each time. At first it’s just the staring and huffing. It moves to glaring at your companion and then waltzing over to you so he say something sassy like “I am not your mother. I should not have to drag you to bed each night.” When that stops getting the reaction he wants, he’ll plop down next you and make every annoyed noise known to man. He might even start to nudge you, extending out one delicate hand to touch your knee or elbow until you get the hint.

But don’t you dare call him out on this. Like a cat, Astarion needs to feek comfortable safe with you. If he gets even a whiff of negativity (or what he thinks is), it sets your relationship back weeks. Pointing out his little feline quirks will feel like you’re complaining or annoyed with him and he can’t handle it. He’ll pull away from you and resort back to his stand offish ways. He’s making sassy but lowkey hurtful comments all of the time. They’re not directed at you because he would never forgive himself if he upset you but that sentiment doesn’t extend to anyone else. Worst of all he won’t feed from you and would damn near starve himself before asking you.

It’s a delicate dance between the two of you but one you would never quit.

2. Feeding from you is difficult for him.

At first it was merely a means to an end but then you became more important to him and now he can’t bring himself to feed from you as much. He would rather never do it but alas blood is in limited supply and you’ve already given him permission to take what he needs. If he can, he finds some other way but it doesn’t always work out. You’ve never asked him why he seems to avoid such a normal task but it’s always on your mind and one night you blurt it out.

I imagine it’s been a long few days and tonight is the first time you’ve been able to relax. Freshly bathed, fed, and now sipping at decent wine, you’re lounging with Karlach and Shadowheart. The three of you have had more than enough wine to be relaxed and have passed over into what Astarion calls ‘delightful chaos’. You’re giggly enough to be entertaining but can still hold a conversation albeit slow and slurred. Your pale elf has been cranky all day and poor Gale has been the target for most of it. You tried to step in and at least lessen Astarion’s onslaught but that earned you the nastiest glare to date. Since then Astarion has been sulking in the shadows or hiding in his tent. You’re the only one brave enough to go near him when he’s like this however it’s still rather dangerous.

On clumsy feet you find yourself just outside of him tent where you can feel the brooding and angst wafting from inside.

“Astarion?” You gentle whisper to the fabric, awaiting his acknowledgment.

“What?” His response is short and biting, similar to how he’s been speaking at Gale.

Assuming he doesn’t realize that it’s you, you say his name again and ask if you can come in. He nearly brings his tent to the ground when he rips open the flaps.

“What?” He repeats with fury and pain in his dull eyes.

It should scare you, seeing him so feral and unrestrained but seeing him causes a wild smile to break out on your face. Your hands go to reach for his face but quickly they fall when you remember that everyone is watching you closely. Whatever wine you drank has given you an armor of courage (and stupidity really). You smile at him with all of the affection you harbor for this ethereal being and slide past him into his tent. The simple action sends everyone else into high alert while Astarion barely contains the hiss he wants to send their way.

When he turns around, he finds you already sitting beside his bedroll with your knees pulled up with your arms wrapped around them.

“What do you want?”

All he gets in response is a blink and then a beckoning to join you. Patting the space next to you, you quietly ask him to join you however he is determined to be cross with you for barging in. He repeats his early question with a hardened glower in your direction.

“Astarion…” you murmur to him, your voice low and gentle, “you need to feed.”

The sheer audacity to utter such a thing infuriates him to no end but you’re right. He does and the sanguine desire is growing far too large to hold in anymore.

He still tries to deny it but his words are unusually weak and he stumbles over each one.

“Come,” you order softly as you move to lay down on his bedroll and brush your hair away, “drink what you need. I trust you.”

Those three words are almost as powerful as a declaration of love to the vampire spawn. He finds himself crumble to the ground and crawl over your divine figure. The unholy need to devour you that he usually despises with his entire being is welcomed as his fangs sink into your neck. One of your hands comes to hold his shoulder and the other cradles the back of his head, keeping him close as he feeds from you. Your gentle touch and reassuring voice overwhelms poor Astarion. He begins to whimper and moan into the supple skin of your neck without even realizing it. When he pulls away to keep from completely draining you, he’s breathless and muttering to himself you how good you taste.

Why he would ever deny himself this divine experience?

3. He refuses to admit it that he loves when you initiate touch.

Because of his past, you’ve decided that you will only touch him if he asks and if you get explicit consent. Most of the time you wait until he invites you in some manner whether that be he telling you to get over here or paw at you like a cat. He appreciates it, he really does but sometimes he craves the feeling that he gets when you ask him.

His favorite, though, is when you ask him if you can lay in him when he reads. You’ve been napping in his tent on and off all day, having chosen to stay back and recoup after the long events from the past week. Most of your companions have been doing the same but Astarion has been trying his hardest to not spend too much time around you. It’s hard enough to not just bask in your affection but even more so when you’ve been cuddled up in his tent all day. When you finally decide to go to your own tent, he takes the opportunity to reclaim his bedroll. It smells of your sweet scent and is still warm from your body, something he secretly craves.

You return to his tent a few hours later after everyone has eaten and settled in for the night. Peering down at him with sleeping eyes, you cross your arms and huff when he ignores you for his reading.

“Yes, my dear?” He quietly chuckles while still pretending to read his book.

“You’re in my spot.”

“We’re in my tent therefore it is my spot.”

You can’t exactly argue with him. You plop down next to him and give him the biggest puppy eyes imaginable.

“Will you at least let me lay on you if you’re not going to move?”

If it could his heart would be doing flips and his cheeks would be red but alas neither thing is truly possible.

“That depends…” he pretends to be uninterested in your request and continues with his straight face as he flips to the next page in his book. He can hear your huff of annoyance and fails to hide the small smirk that tugs at his pale lips.

“On what?” You pry even though you both know this is just a little game and he’s going to give in.

“Ask me nicely.” He drawls in that low seductive voice he uses when he’s trying to persuade you. Finally he flickers his eyes over to yours. That simple action alone steals your breath and chases away any negative feelings you might’ve had.

You crawl closer to him, nearly touching him but not quite as you whisper your request again.

“Of course you can, my dear,” he whispers back while his smirk has fully taken over his face. “Lay your head here."

He pats his sternum and waits for you to settle. Much like a lover seeking warmth in the night, you immediately take refuge in his arms and cuddle as close as you can to him. You feel him set his the book on your upper back when you've found the comfort and warmth you sought.

Astarion begins to murmur the book’s words as his other hands rests at the base of your head. His fingers don’t yet feel confident in moving to thread into your hair but they do softly rub at the tension in your skull. Peace is found in your embrace and he couldn’t be happier that you asked him to join your party all those weeks ago.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion imagine #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate tav #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate fanfiction

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shawnxstyles · 1 year

Text

please, call me peter

DATE: JANUARY 6, 2023

summary: you haven’t been able to come with anyone besides yourself, making you think something’s wrong with you. once you go to the gynecologist, dr. parker shows you that you’re just fine.

request: yes yes

words: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering], dub-con, small praise kink, dirty talking), and a cute ending.

note: shooting out requests like webs. sorry that was lame. if this makes you uncomfortable, do not read.

gynecologist!peter x female!reader

—

Your eyes scan the white room while you sit impatiently. Your heart lightly thuds in your chest and your fingers drum rapidly along your clothed thigh. The nurse had asked if you wanted to change into a hospital gown, which you politely denied. She gave you an indifferent expression before walking out, leaving you here.

You were at the gynecologist for one concerning reason; every time you had sex, you couldn’t come. Your previous relationship ended because you were unable to reach that euphoric high, which you believed was a ridiculous reason to leave someone. You weren’t as sad as you thought you’d be because you were too concerned with your own well-being to dwell on some bloke.

Before heading to the doctor, you had a quick hook-up, assuming that you and your ex just weren’t sexually compatible. But then you were proved wrong when you didn’t come. Again. You weren’t really the hook-up type, in fear of catching some unwanted disease or infection. Finally, you took matters into your own hands, literally, and masturbated with your fingers until you orgasmed all over your bed sheets.

See? It wasn’t impossible.

Then why couldn’t you come with other people? It had to be your fault. It had to be.

So, again, you were left here in the small hospital room sitting between empty stirrups with your ankles tightly crossed. The widening of the wooden door alerted you, your eyes shooting towards the man entering the room.

A guy? Your gynecologist was a guy?

You knew you were a decently healthy person because you were always on track with your appointments, even small check-ups. Because of your good wellness, you had never needed to go to the gyno. Until now, which seemed a bit nerve-racking all of a sudden.

The second the doctor turned around, you knew exactly why.

Warm, brown eyes peer at you with tenderness. Chestnut curls rest upon his head a little messily, but in the cutest way. He wore a professional lab coat over his casual clothing. His ribbed shirt and blue jeans seemed to match him perfectly. His cheeks appear a tinge pink when he smiles, welcoming and greeting you.

Oh shit.

“I’m Dr. Parker, and you are?” Dr. Parker asks as he plops onto his spinny chair. His eyes stare deeply into yours, causing your heart to race more than you’d like to admit. His voice was as attractive as his face, and you tried to convince yourself that he had to have at least one bad quality that you just haven’t seen yet, so you didn’t soak your panties.

“Y/N,” You blink to wash away the feeling of your nerves as your palms get clammy. “but you probably knew that already.”

“That is true, but I like for my patients to introduce themselves to me directly,” He states simply and you nod in response. Your sweaty hands interlocked over your thighs to ease yourself.

“So, what brings you in here today, Y/N?” Dr. Parker questions with a lick of his lips. He can’t help himself when his eyes drift nonchalantly, but quickly down your body. You were beautiful, which made it hard to concentrate on anything else, especially when you started talking. Your voice was silky, and he wanted to ask you more questions just so he could hear it more.

“I…” You were a bit embarrassed to share your reasoning. Was it common? Will he laugh at you? No, of course not, he’s a doctor! You battled with yourself in your head before spitting it out. “I can’t come during sex.”

Your jaw clenched as your hand practically hit your forehead in embarrassment. You couldn’t look at him because he was probably holding back a laugh. But you also couldn’t look at him because he was so handsome you might melt.

True be told, Peter already knew why you were here. He read the small report the nurse got before he entered. It was part of protocol and he wanted to hear you describe it yourself.

“That’s okay, darling. Nothing to be ashamed of,” He reassures gently as you remove your hand from your face. He smiles sincerely and you smile bashfully back. The nickname erupts butterflies in your stomach, and you can’t disregard the small wetness you feel trickle in your underwear.

When he asks, you go on to explain your situation in detail, even including the part about your ex-boyfriend dumping you. When Peter hears this, his jaw subtly clenches as irritation spreads through him.

Who breaks up with someone for that? He wanted to ask, but knew that was probably inappropriate. He does need to question you professionally though to ensure there’s nothing wrong. However, he thinks he already knows the answer.

“I’m going to ask you some questions that get pretty personal,” Parker faces his notes with you in the corner of his eye. You nod as your nervousness never fades and your heart beat remains quite fast.

Most of his questions were simple and straightforward, so you weren’t too ashamed to answer.

“Do you have any pain?”

“No.”

“Are you on birth control?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Two years,” You eyes strayed away from him, thumbs twiddling in your lap like an anxious child. He wonders how you got birth control without going to the gynecologist in the past, seeming as though you’ve had no history.

However, some questions made the heat rise to your cheeks. Your arousal worsened the more Dr. Parker spoke, his voice warm and soothing like honey.

“To clarify, you have orgasmed before, correct?” Peter was able to focus when his eyes were glued to his papers, but one glance at your adorable shyness and his cock was semi-hard in his boxers.

“Yes, I-I did it myself,” You hissed at yourself for stuttering. He made you so starstruck it was hard to form words. You didn’t meet many people like that in your life— now that you think of it, none at all. He surveys you for a moment you think was a little too long, and you tighten your ankles together at his burning gaze.

“Um,” He grunts, covering it up with a cough as his cheeks turn pink a tad more. Your lip subtly curls into a smile at his cuteness. Peter was nervous for the first time in a while, fingers shaking as he scribbled notes about you. He felt as silly as a child who had a crush on a classmate. “you seem very well.”

“So nothing’s wrong?” Your eyebrows crinkle in confusion, a lost expression cascading over your face when you feel like you’ve hit a dead end. You gaze at the floor, trying to understand.

“Not directly,” He says to reassure you. Your eyes meet his with a head tilt. Now, you were really confused.

“What do I do then?”

“Don’t have sex with idiots,” He grumbles, honestly hoping you didn’t hear it. But of course you did. Your heart rate quickens wildly in your chest at his blunt statement. “but to make sure, I’m going to check you, okay?”

Your eyes widen for a moment, not thinking you would have to be checked. Your thoughts immediately shoot to your soaked panties and how he’ll see your very visual arousal. Hopefully, he assumes it’s from nerves.

“Would you like to change into something more comfortable and accessible?” He asks, looking at your shirt with jean shorts. He checks most of his patients, so usually they would have been in a gown already. But at this hospital, the patient didn’t have to change, even though it was highly recommended. However, when they rarely denied the new wardrobe, the doctor had to undress the patient themselves. So far in Peter’s career, he’s only had to do that with incidents that were an emergency.

“No, thank you,” You answered with no explanation. Secretly, you hated the material of the gown and you swore it gave you rashes. Maybe you were allergic?

Dr. Parker nods once and turns to his little side table beside you. He slips on his blue gloves and tells you exactly what he’s going to do, so you’re not unprepared.

“And since you’re not in a gown, the protocol is that I must undress you myself,” Peter feels the burning red flame up his cheeks at his statement. Your eyes widen again at the image of the sensual action, but nod in understanding.

Who made that rule? You wanted to ask, but it seemed disrespectful. You honestly couldn’t tell if you loved or hated the person that invented that idea. Picturing Dr. Parker strip you only made a pool in your panties.

Peter’s gloved fingers unbutton and zip down your jean shorts with your permission. It was slow and steady, unlike your heart that was bouncing off the walls of your ribs. You know he could see your heavy breathing as your stomach rose up and down too quickly under the thin material of your shirt.

Your shorts were removed and then he was on to your underwear.

Peter’s cock pulsed in his jeans at the wet patch on your panties, his red blush never fading. He wanted to press the pad of his thumb against your throbbing clit. He would rub you over the flimsy fabric and then make you moan for him as he fucked you roughly with his fingers. He could assume that you were tight and tense because of your struggle to orgasm with another person, but the thought only made his cock twitch needily as he imagined you squeezing around him.

“Are you okay so far? And can I remove these?” He asks for consent and patiently waits. You nod, but he’s not having that. “Words, Y/N. I need you to say it.”

His demand caused you to clench around nothing as you stutter out a trembling yes, so he can proceed. Peter delicately removes your panties, sliding them down your supple legs and placing them with your shorts. You didn’t open your legs, but you knew he’d already seen the wetness leaking out of you.

“Okay, um,” His professionalism was fading from him. He wanted to devour you because you probably tasted amazing. The smell of your arousal filled his nostrils, making it hard to focus on anything. “Put your legs on these stirrups. I’ll help you.”

He guides your legs into the holders, strongly resisting the urge to gawk at your vulnerable area. Once you were settled, he looked down and nearly came right there. Arousal drowned your folds as your puffy clit poked out behind it all. He noticed the fluttering of your folds as the cold air hit your wetness. He wouldn’t need to use any lube on you for sure. Peter was losing his cool and was about to lose everything if he did not pull himself together.

“I’m about to start. Are you okay?” He could sense your nervousness from a mile away. He wanted to make sure you were okay, even if you’ve had sex multiple times before.

“Yes, doctor,” You reassure and his jaw subtly locks at his label leaving from your mouth. He avoids picturing his falling from your pretty lips, so he could focus on the task at hand. You didn’t notice, too caught up in your own thoughts of his fingers entering you. You wanted him to pound them into you mercilessly because you know he’d know all the right spots and special places to hit. You can imagine he’s soft and caring, and always gives immense pleasure to the woman.

You almost gasp aloud when you come to a realization; he probably has a girlfriend. Or a wife. A wife and kids. You don’t remember seeing a ring, but that doesn’t mean anything. Oh, God, you were daydreaming sexual thoughts about your gynecologist who would probably freak out if he could hear them.

“If it makes you more comfortable, my name is Peter. Sometimes that small detail helps the patients relax more,” He noticed your sudden panicked state and high tension in your legs, wanting to calm you down, so it doesn’t hurt. It was perfectly fine to be nervous, but it wasn’t fine for him to be this nervous. He’s a professional doctor, yet he’s thinking about ruining it all just to please you at this moment.

You feel the latex gloves graze your folds, making your heart jump up into your throat. Peter’s middle finger practically teases your entrance, and you hold back pathetic whimpers. Once he slips his middle finger inside, you release a shuddery moan. His finger stills, deep inside of you while he gives you a second to adjust.

“Relax for me,” You try not to clench around him, but you’re a lost cause when he begins to wiggle it around the tight space. Peter is struggling. His cock is about to burst at the seams while his middle finger sinks far inside you. Your clenching walls and hushed noises nearly make him moan. He sees you resisting the urge to moan and it’s killing him because he wants to hear you.

“You can moan,” Peter says, voice low and sultry. “It’s welcomed.” He curls his finger and slowly pushes in and out. You don’t hold back your moan this time as lust begins to fill your vision. It feels too good, even though you know it’s wrong. You feel yourself getting wetter and wetter at his skilled finger and his concentrated expression.

Peter is positive you’re enjoying this. He can’t resist you anymore when he has you spread open for him. Plus, he found nothing peculiar inside, you seemed healthy. He could stop now if he’d like, but the contraction of your pussy walls around his finger and the sweet whimpers you’re eliciting spur him to continue.

“How does this feel, Y/N?” Peter’s voice was gravelly and lustful; you were sure to catch on by now. His question was borderline professional, yet inappropriate. At this point, Peter couldn’t care less because your face said it all.

“Good, really good,” You admitted with fluttering eyes as your hands gripped the sides of your shirt. Your name out of his mouth made you melt into his touch as you instinctively grinded your hips into his hand.

“What about this?” His ring finger slides in effortlessly, and they both curl inside you. You gasp, eliciting another shaky moan. His digits were thick and just the right length to satisfy you without even needing his cock, even though you wanted it. “God, you’re so tight. Imagine what you’d feel like around my cock.” He grumbles.

You gasp at his sudden profound language, but the dirtiness only made you more aroused. Your brain imagined how his cock would look buried so deep inside of you that you’d feel him in your stomach. You imagine this pre-cum leaking from his tip as he pulls out of you just to slam back in. Your core tensed at the thought.

“I didn’t hear you, Y/N,” He grunts gravelly, slowing his movements. He slips his fingers out, removing the glove swiftly. You whine at the emptiness, answering him. He was so sweet, yet dirty, and you loved it.

“So good! It feels so good, please don’t stop,” You plead and he smirks in satisfaction as he continues. His thumb rolls over your puffy clit, making your hips press into his hand as he slips back in. Your thighs contracted as they begged to close, but the locked stirrups blocked you from doing so.

“Who’s making you feel this good?” His tone was smooth and clear, almost contradicting his sinful actions. His pace becomes brutal, ramming in and out of you with no mercy. The rough texture of his bare hand sends a shiver up your spine as your orgasm nears.

“You! You, Peter,” Your chest heaves as choked moans leave your lips. His digits rub your throbbing nerves as his fingers glide against your walls addictingly good. Your fingernails dig into the soft flesh of your trembling thighs. His lips raise in another smirk as his cheeks flush that familiar pink. “I’m close, Peter,” You whimper, causing him to hiss at the harsh pulsing of his shaft when his name falls delicately from your lips just how he imagined.

“I know, honey. Can feel you clenching around me,” He groans when you release another noise of pleasure. His eyes wander down to your aching cunt as his fingers become drenched in your juices. You’re squeezing him torturously, on the edge of your break.

“Are you gonna come? Gonna come for me?”

Without another moment, your orgasm ripples through your body with a blissful wail. Clenched muscles and screwed eyes don’t even express the full ecstasy you feel. White liquid saturates Peter’s bare fingers before he licks them clean. It wasn’t the most sanitary, but he didn’t give one fuck.

Your face screams fucked out; perspired skin, droopy eyes, and a weary smile. In his ideal situation, he would have devoured you until you couldn’t take it anymore. But that was for another time. If there ever was another time, which he hoped there would be.

Just maybe not in a hospital.

“Well, Y/N, it seems like you are very healthy,” Peter grins, taking the tissues to clean you thoroughly. You can feel the heat radiating from your cheeks at his joking comment.

“Thanks, doctor,” Your voice came out a bit squeaky while your heart continued to stammer in your chest.

“After that, I think you should call me Peter,” He chuckles, sliding away in his stool to discard the tissues. Heat burns your skin from his adorable laugh.

“Peter it is then,” He helps you down the stirrups and you begin to get dressed with a goofy smile curling on your face. Peter doesn’t fail to notice this as his thoughts begin to wander. He knows he just met you, but he wants to see where this goes. He is confident that you’re interested in him (at least enough for him to finger you), so maybe asking you out isn’t the crazy idea he’s ever had.

“Y/N?” Suddenly, he didn’t feel so confident.

“Yeah?” Your response was breathless.

“Would you, um,” Peter hesitated to find the words. He really was like a little kid talking to his crush for the first time. “like to go out sometime? Maybe?”

You admire his bashfulness. He anxiously rolls up his coat sleeves while his face displaces a rosy blush. His brown eyes twinkled with hope as he waited for a reply.

“I would like that, doctor,” You smile genuinely and sweetly, your joyful energy calming his pent-up nerves. “I mean Peter.” You giggle when he blushes.

“Okay, okay, this is great. Here’s my number,” Peter scribbles messily on a small sheet of note paper, handing it to you. It was adorable how nervous he was for being a well-respected doctor who waltzed in with a sweet kind of confidence. You were giddy as well, but you were way better at hiding it clearly. You snatch the sheet with your fingers, tucking it away in your palm.

“Do you do this with all your patients, Dr. Parker?” You tease with a quirked eyebrow and a pointed finger at his chest. Peter huffs out a chuckle while clicking his tongue.

“Only the most beautiful ones,” He gently lifts your finger, kissing it gently before striding out of the room. Peter doesn’t forget to leave an arrogant wink as the heavy, wooden door closes abruptly.

Maybe being a doctor does make him arrogant. Sometimes.

You stand frozen, starstruck. Your breathing was back to heaving again because he left you breathless. And speechless. You jokingly wondered for a minute if you would die from a heart attack, due to the rapid thumping of a stupid organ against your ribs. Curious, you open your palm and unfold the slip of paper he wrote hastingly. Glancing past the number, you notice the small words underneath.

Please, call me Peter.

—

yesss tell me what you think :)

#shawnxstyles #peter parker #tom holland #mcu peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #peter parker fanfics #tom holland fanfic #tom holland smut #mcu peter parker smut #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader

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charliemwrites · 2 months

Text

Mafia!au part 5!

A bit of fluff, a bit of drama, a bit of Soap!

“Gooood morning, sir!” you sing as you sweep into Mr. Price’s office. “And happy birthday!”

His head shoots up from whatever he was brooding over, brows arched high in genuine shock. Surprise is a good look on him.

“How the bloody hell did you know it’s my birthday?” he demands, sitting back in his chair.

You beam, sauntering right up to his desk. His eyes flick to the round white box balanced on top of your tablet. Nothing big, a little something you baked at home after a couple dissatisfying trials.

“It’s my job to know,” you reply easily.

He blinks– a habit you flatter yourself thinking he might have picked up from you. “What else do you know about me?”

You tilt your head at him, a smug curve to your lips.

“Just the basics. Your full name and birthday,” you demure. Hold up your free hand and start rattling off on your fingers. “Height, allergies, tea preference, pastry preference, blood type, drink of choice…”

You set the box in front of him and resettle your tablet in the crook of your arm. He stares at you for a beat, expression bleached from surprise to outright shock. You spin your stylus around your fingers.

“Which is why I made you a marble cake with whiskey instead of rum.”

His eyes lock onto the unassuming white box. It’s not a big cake by any means, about six inches in diameter and only one layer. Just a small something for Price to have for himself. God knows the rest of the boys (and Farah) get enough treats from you as it is.

“You made this?” he asks, leaning a bit forward.

“Yessir,” you declare, “and I’m pretty good at it too. Perks of stress baking.”

He runs a hand down his face, as if his beard got ruffled. “Christ, you need a raise.”

“Yes. Anyway – I’ll get you a plate after I’m done,” you say, swatting at his curious hand. He huffs but sits back to give you his full attention. You smile in reward and begin reciting his schedule for the day.

He listens, only interrupting when he needs clarification on little details. You try not to be too endeared by the way his eyes occasionally flick to the covered cake. When you finish, you twitch your nose at him knowingly.

“I’ll get you a plate before I get started on that expense summary,” you say, turning on your heel.

You hum in surprise when a large, calloused hand catches your wrist. It’s not the hand of a businessman, you think, but a man used to work. A man who does the hard things for himself. Before meeting John Price, you would have scoffed at the thought of a rich man knowing labor. Price though… well, he’s been proving to be a welcome exception since the very start.

“Thank you for this, love,” he says, voice hitting that tone and pitch that makes your insides squirm. He caresses his thumb over the tender skin before releasing you. “Really.”

You can already feel the blush climbing up the back of your neck, over your ears, creeping onto your cheeks. Can’t ever catch a break with him.

“Well, don’t thank me ‘til you’ve tried it,” you try to deflect.

“Weren’t you the one saying you’re decent at baking.”

“Yeah, well… maybe I poisoned you or something – for that time you closed my skirt in the door.”

He sputters a bit. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling at the indignance on his face. Such a handsome, almost regal man. You love to rile him up.

“I apologized. Profusely.”

And offered to buy you a new skirt entirely. The way you’d shrieked that that was not an appropriate response made Soap choke with laughter as people stared.

“Yeah, well, I hold a grudge,” you reply, shrugging.

It’s true, but not about things like that. Graves and his assistant? Oh, that’s practically a blood feud at this point. A silly little accident where your boss left a crease in your fourth favorite skirt? That’s not even something to forgive him for, but you sure as hell will never forget. Especially when he still seems mildly sheepish about it.

“You wouldn’t be the first,” he grumbles. You’re not sure if he’s talking about grudges or poisoning, but the dramatics finally make you laugh.

“But I could be the last,” you call over your shoulder as you flounce out.

Not for long though, returning with a disposable fork from the breakroom. There’s something amusing to only you about a man in a thousand-pound suit using cheap plastic.

“Come to see me keel over for yourself, then?” he asks.

“Well, I can’t have you getting cake crumbs on the expense reports,” you reason.

He’s already got the lid open. No icing on the cake – you’re shit at decorating, so you chose a recipe without icing. The flavor of the whiskey and sugar should be plenty. To make up for it, you folded a tiny placard and wrote “Happy Birthday, Boss!” in your best loopy cursive.

He takes the fork, fingers brushing yours in the process. You remind yourself not to snatch your hand away like a scandalized Victorian lady. Christ, you really need to get it together.

“Tell me how you like it,” you say, making to leave again.

“Come try it yourself,” he protests.

You pause, give him an amused look. “I didn’t actually poison it, sir. You’ve not done anything that heinous. Yet.”

He snorts, carefully digging out a respectable bite from the edge. “If you see fit to toss a little rat poison in, then I’ll likely having it coming.”

You hum. “Arsenic is more my style. Classic.”

In the corner of the room, Simon makes a little noise you’ve come to recognize as repressed laughter. You shoot him a quick, amused look, before shifting your attention back as Price gestures with the fork.

“Regardless, you should get a little taste of the fruits of your labor,” he offers.

The fruits of your labor, you think with a bit of regret, will be his enjoyment of your baking. You’re not sure when his admiration became your favorite part of the day, but you’re spoiled for positive feedback from your otherwise stern boss.

“You first,” you insist, “it’s your birthday after all.”

He keeps unnerving eye contact as he brings the bite to his mouth, tongue flicking out to catch any spare crumbs. He hums, eyes closing a for a second in enjoyment, before opening and fixating on you again.

“That’s bloody brilliant, love.”

He scoops up another piece, brings it right to your mouth. You hurry to put a hand beneath in case it falls; don’t even think before parting your lips. Sugar and whiskey, chocolate and vanilla, burst across your tongue.

“Oh!” you hum, hiding your mouth while you chew. “That is pretty good.”

It only occurs to you as he takes another bite for himself, a twinkle in his eye, that you just ate after him. Used the same fork like it was nothing, like that’s an acceptable thing to do as his assistant. You’re not squeamish by any means, no. It’s just… it’s gotta be crossing some sort of professional line. You can’t imagine any of your previous bosses ever sharing with you like this.

“Let me tell you, if you did poison it,” he muses, “I wouldn’t mind it being the last thing I ate.”

You roll your eyes, swat lightly at his arm again. “I told you; it’s not poisoned.”

“I know, you just took a bite,” he answers smugly.

You click your tongue at him, playing at exasperated. “I’m going to work now.”

“Ta, love.”

“Oi, li’l miss?”

You glance up at Soap curiously.

(Recognize, in the back of your mind, that it’s a nickname that’s not only spread – thanks, Simon – but that you’re responding to as quickly as your own name now. You should probably feel some type of way about that. Probably righteously annoyed or something. You don’t.)

Soap is standing at your desk, shifting from foot to foot. Uneasy. But the expression on his usually friendly face isn’t nervous. It’s… something else. Something you don’t know how to decipher but makes you sit up a bit straighter, alert.

“What’s up, buttercup?” you ask, voice light.

“There’s some bloke down in the lobby, says he’s got a date with you?” he explains, frowning deeper than you’ve ever seen.

It gets deeper – and angrier – when he sees the blood drain from your face. You push your chair away from your desk to hide the tremble that’s trying to infest your hands.

Absolutely not. This is your place of work, dammit. Where you’re calm and collected, the person anyone can turn to for solutions. You’ve worked so hard to craft this sleek vessel of professional grace and you’re not about to have it sullied like this.

“He does not have a date with me,” you state, keeping your voice flat and tight. “Would you come down with me, please?”

“’Course,” he replies instantly.

You stop by Price’s office, knock twice, then poke your head in when he calls for entry.

“I’ve just got to pop out for a mo’,” you explain, “I’ll be right back!”

He nods and you duck out again before he can notice anything amiss. For a rich bastard, he’s too observant of others. (Especially you.)

“What’s he here fer, then?” Soap asks in the elevator.

You let out an annoyed puff of air. “A reality check, I assume.”

He side-eyes you but doesn’t ask any further before the doors open.

Sure enough, standing in the lobby, is the last man you want to see. Your ex, Brandon.

“There you are, bunny. You’ve been keeping me waiting for—”

“One, do not call me that. It’s inappropriate,” you interrupt, crisp and sharp. “Two, I haven’t been keeping you waiting, because there’s nothing to wait for. Three, get out.”

He rolls his eyes, that smarmy curve to his lips never leaving. You don’t think he’s even noticed Soap just behind you yet.

“Look, I know you’re still in a mood about everything,” he says, “but that’s why I’m taking you out. To smooth things over. Clear the air, and all that.”

“You’re not taking me out,” you repeat. “Get out.”

He crosses his arms, tilting his head in that condescending way you’ve always despised. It sets your teeth on edge, makes you burn with anger.

“This isn’t your building,” he goads, “you can’t kick me out.”

“Might as well be hers, mate,” Soap interjects, “she could kick out the goddamn queen.”

Brandon’s focus shifts to him. You feel a curl of vindictive satisfaction when his expression curdles a bit. Soap may not be a particularly tall man, but he can be intimidating. Built thick and strong, doesn’t bother to conceal his physique at all with his sleeves rolled up his forearms. And you’re not oblivious to his looks either. Soap is a handsome man. A walking ego bruise for a man like your ex.

“Fine,” he huffs, “then come outside so we can talk like adults.”

You click your tongue, fold your hands behind your back to conceal the way your fingers clench into fists. “We did talk like adults. You just failed to listen like one.”

And ohhhh, the petty satisfaction that bubbles through you at the way his teeth click in shock, a flush of embarrassed anger curtaining his face.

“Now, I’ll ask one more time and then my coworker is going to toss you out himself.” Soap chooses that moment to crack his knuckles. “Leave this building. You’re not welcome.”

You drop your arms and turn on your heel, ready to get back to work and compartmentalize this until you’ve got a fuck-off sized glass of wine in front of you.

“Hey, we’re not—”

Even if you did see what happened, you don’t think you could have followed. It happens so fast. One second, Soap’s eyes are on you. Burning with questions and fury on your behalf, checking that you’re okay. The next, he’s darted past you. There’s a scuffle, fancy shoes squeaking on polished floors, a thick, wet pop. Then Brandon is shouting in pain.

You jump, twist to see what the commotion is. Soap’s got a white-knuckled grip on Brandon’s extended wrist – though now it’s bent at an awful angle, you realize he must have been reaching for you. Your skin crawls.

“Away ‘n bile yer heid,” Soap growls, shoving Brandon back roughly.

He doesn’t fall on his ass but it’s a near thing. With the eyes of reception, a few employees, and you on him, he spits a curse at Soap and retreats. You stare after for a moment, lips parted in shock.

“All set, miss?” Soap asks, adjusting his sleeves.

“Um, yeah,” you say. Blink and pull yourself together. “I mean, yes. Let’s head back up before the boss misses us.”

He places a hand on the small of your back on the short walk back. It feels grounding rather than proprietary; you’re grateful for it. He lasts until the doors close before turning to you.

“The hell was that about, lass?”

You sigh, smooth your skirt down for lack of anything else to do. “That was my ex. He wants to… reconcile, I suppose. And he’s quite keen on getting his way.”

Soap mutters a few choice words under his breath. Scottish slang, you suspect. You’ll have to get him to teach you sometime.

“Anyway, thank you for your help,” you continue, eyes on the elevator doors. “I can’t believe he showed up here. I’m so embarrassed.”

“You’ve nothin’ to be embarrassed about, hen,” he protests. “He’s the creeper here.”

You sigh. “I know, I just… you don’t think less of me, do you? That I didn’t… take care of him myself.”

Soap’s expression softens. He draws you into a quick one-armed hug. “You did take care of ‘im, far as I’m concerned. I was just there to enforce. No need to mess up yer pretty nails, aye?”

You smile, small but genuine. “Thanks, again.”

“Anytime, li’l miss.”

The elevator chimes as it reaches the top floor. You turn to Soap just before the doors open.

“Oh, and please don’t tell the boss.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #mafia boss price #mafia!au #assistant!reader #oddly wholesome for a mafia au #john price x reader #john price #john soap mactavish

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kumawaii · 3 months

Text

SWEETHEART | LSM

cw - yandere themes, possessiveness, toxic behaviors, mentions of blackmail, unprotected sex, riding, recording, creampie

— this is my first request! hope you like it my dear anon!

∘₊✧─── 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓭𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽 ───✧₊∘

bestie!seokmin is an absolute sweetheart. he lives to make people happy, and you’re no exception. it’s so common, that you often feel bad for monopolizing his time. he always assures you that he wouldn’t have it any other way, and that’s enough to make any potential guilt vanish. which is good because your best friend hates to see you upset.

you don’t think anything of bestie!seokmin always following you around. he’s like a breath of fresh air and a burst of sunshine rolled up into a tall, handsome package. you two being attached by the hip is nothing new. you’re so used to it that you can’t really remember a time when it wasn’t like that.

it’s comforting having bestie!seokmin by your side. he’s the one guy who’s never let you down, and probably never will.

things never change between you two. even when you get a boyfriend everything remains the same. it’s odd, though. bestie!seokmin isn’t a fan of your new man despite him liking everyone. he’s still polite, ever the sweetheart you know him to be. which you’re grateful for. none of your relationships ever seem to last lately, so you hoped this time is different.

what you don’t know is that bestie!seokmin has no intentions of letting that happen. he’s been successful in undermining your other relationships and eventually ruining them, and this time will be no different. it’s hard at first because your new boyfriend is by far the most decent one out of the bunch of losers you brought around. but that doesn’t matter. he’s not right for you, and he’s going to prove it.

“why don’t you like him?” you ask, not liking that one of the most important people in your life doesn’t like your boyfriend.

seokmin is good at hiding the bitterness he feels. a small soft smile lifts his lips as he looks at you. “honestly? i don’t like his vibe. there’s something off about him.”

bestie!seokmin pulls you into a hug when you visibly deflate at his words. he apologizes into your hair, rubbing comforting circles on your back. instead of listing off all the reasons you should leave that loser behind, he tells you to be careful. after all, guys are pigs.

it takes a bit of time, but eventually the plan set in motion comes to fruition. it’s sunday night, aka your and bestie!seokmin’s movie night. you’re cuddled into his side when you get a notification. as soon as you look at it, your stomach drops. it’s a hey girlie… text from an unknown number with an attachment to accompany it. with trembling fingers, you open it.

as always, bestie!seokmin is there to comfort you when the image is revealed to be your boyfriend at some sleazy party. that scum had lied and said he was staying in to study for an upcoming exam. instead he was getting drunk with some girl in his lap practically dry humping him. it’s very easy for you to send him a breakup text seconds after you watch the video.

you cry into bestie!seokmin’s chest not knowing how bittersweet he feels. on one hand, blackmailing his ex into setting up your now ex boyfriend worked perfectly. however, now he’s left with your heart ache which he fucking hates. wasting your tears on such a worthless guy isn’t right, and he lets you know that.

“i-i just wish i could make him feel as bad as i do.”

seokmin tries not to sound too eager as he says his next words. “you can.”

you can’t regret listening to bestie!seokmin’s advice. he was right from the beginning, and he was right now. slowly sinking down on his thick cock feels so fucking good that you can’t even think of the idiot who lied to you. even with your camera pointing at your naked bodies, all you can think about is seokmin and his big cock.

“fuck, angel.” seokmin moans gutturally as he tosses his head back on the couch. “you feel so fucking good.”

you moan along with him as soon as you sink down all the way. he’s balls deep inside you, and you’ve never felt better. bestie!seokmin lifts his head and looks at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky. it makes your heart jerk as you lean forward to capture his lips. the kiss is sloppy and needy. you swallow each other’s moans as you slowly start grinding your hips.

his dick is so big that you can feel him in your stomach. your pace is slow, but you already feel like you’re on the verge of cumming. the camera is doing an excellent job at capturing the erotic sight of your juices dripping down bestie!seokmin’s cock. it drips down to his heavy balls, and it makes something in the two of you snap.

“fuck my cock, baby.” seokmin urges you, groaning when you start bouncing eagerly on his dick. “that’s it. use me.”

his words sound so desperate and needy that you feel your pussy drip with more arousal. you’re moaning loudly and wantonly as you use his cock like a personal fucktoy. the coil in your stomach is close to snapping, especially when bestie!seokmin brings his hand up to play with your bouncing tits.

you’ve never been so turned on. all your senses are invaded by the carnal haze of sex — the harsh sound of skin slapping, the lewd squelching, and the filthy moans mixing in together. bestie!seokmin can only moan about how tight your pretty pussy feels as he’s consumed by the same dizzying sensation. he’s slowly losing his mind, and he’s loving every second of it.

“your dick is so big!” you cry out when seokmin starts to meet your movements with sharp thrusts. he’s slamming his fat tip against the most sensitive part inside you, and it’s not long before you’re covering his dick with your orgasm.

your moans turn into loud cries of ecstasy when seokmin’s big hands slide down your body to grab your ass. he kneads it roughly as he helps you bounce on his cock while fucking up into your sweet little cunt. you’re a naked goddess on top of him, and he knows he’ll never be able to let you go after this. by the way your pussy keeps clenching around him, you feel the same way.

“cum inside me!” you mewl, eager to feel him stuff you full.

bestie!seokmin smirks into the camera before he gives you what you want, knowing your idiot ex boyfriend is going to watch as he stuffs you full of his cum. he keeps fucking it into you until you’re nothing more than a whimpering mess. he spreads your ass cheeks as his cock slowly pops out of you, making sure your phone captures your tight little hole leaking with his cum.

you lay on his chest for a moment before you slowly lift your head up, mouth messily covering his once again. there’s no room for any guilt. not even as bestie!seokmin sends the filthy video to your ex. it’s the best revenge. especially because now it’s official that only he can have you in such a way.

#kumawaii.exe #midnight.hourz #seokmin smut #svt smut #lee seokmin smut #seokmin x reader #svt x reader #svt imagine #lee seokmin imagine #svt scenarios #seokmin imagines #seventeen smut #seventeen fic #seokmin fic

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thehighladywrites · 2 months

Text

THIS ISN’T GOODBYE, THIS IS SIMPLY SEE YOU LATER…

⋆˙⟡ pairing: ex husband/baby daddy rhysand x fem reader

⋆˙⟡ summary: people who love each other will always find their way back. you and rhys divorced a few years ago, but you will always love each other

⋆˙⟡ warnings: 18+, mdni light angst, hurt to comfort, fluff, smut, violent behavior (not rhysand), misogyny, they’re in love your honor😔

⋆˙⟡ amara’s note: i’m a little iffy about this bc i feel like it could be better but i hope you love it. The smut isn’t really that smutty, it’s more fluffy. Please, let me know what you think; leave a comment😌💗 also english isn’t my first language so if something doesn’t make sense, ignore💀 ALSO LISTEN TO CEILINGS BY LIZZY WHEN YOU GET TO THE RUNNING SCENE PLS IT’S GONNA MAKE SO MUCH SENSE (i hope)

Getting back into the dating scene after your divorce felt strange. Unbeknownst to you, you found yourself unconsciously comparing every man to Rhys, nitpicking on their behavior. Seated at a beautiful restaurant with a guy quite different from your usual choices, things seemed promising until he gave you some backhanded compliments.

“You say you're a doctor? You?” His words grated on your nerves, and you couldn't fathom why he was so shocked.

“Yes, I am. Is that surprising to you?” you retorted.

He chuckled nervously and shook his head. “No, no. I just pegged you for a nurse or something. You know, something more feminine.”

Your hopes deflated. Turns out, this guy wasn't different at all—he was just like every pompous and misogynistic man out there.

Keeping your cool, you fire back with a smirk,

“Is this coming from the person who just told me they bake for a living? I pegged your for a construction worker, you know, something more masculine.” With a smile you excuse yourself from the table, leaving him puzzled and perhaps questioning his outdated assumptions. Your departure left him to contemplate his lacking dinner date skills.

In the search for someone matching the love you'd known, you found yourself in a loop of comparing every date to Rhys. You shook your head, realizing you needed to stop this habit and maybe, just maybe, find happiness beyond those high standards.

With a dramatic exhale, you frowned, blaming Rhys for your lousy love life. After all, he had treated you like a goddess, setting extremely untouchable standards.

—

As if the mother herself had heard your wish, you finally met a somewhat decent man who wasn’t giving you any backhanded compliment or was making you feel uncomfortable. Although he was somewhat nice he was a little bland and not something you would typically go for. He was very nice with your daughters but could have a temper.

But beggars can’t be choosers right?

With utmost tenderness, you approached the conversation with your twin daughters, explaining the new man in your life. In soft words, you explained that mommy and daddy weren't together anymore, framing it as a journey of finding happiness even though you deep down weren’t feeling the happiness you portrayed. You emphasized the still-there love between you and their father, assuring them that sometimes people are just better off as friends.

Even though the news initially saddened them, your gentle touch in explaining the complexities of grown-up emotions, coupled with the warmth of your smile, melted their worries away. As they saw the happiness radiating from you, your daughters embraced the idea, understanding that your heart always carried love for them and their father.

Little did you know that your mischievous baby girls spilled the news to Rhysand, sharing every detail about the man you were seeing, your dates, and even telling him that you still loved Daddy. However, being the little dramatists they were, they exaggerated, making it seem like you were head over heels for him.

Despite almost three years of separation and the seemingly agreement to divorce, the twins' confession ignited a flame of jealousy in Rhysand. The mere thought of you going on dates and being entertained by other men stirred an irrational desire within him to claim you as his own. Witnessing other males treating you and touching you made him feel absolutely murderous.

He hates that you’re not together anymore, hates that you don’t wear your wedding ring even tho he wears his, he hates that he’s not by your side. But most of all he hates himself for ever letting your marriage break apart.

Rhys had attempted countless times to mend what was once whole, to win you back and rebuild what had crumbled. However, you always hesitantly turned him down, insisting that you couldn't put each other through that hurt again.

The fact that the girls spoke so highly of the man you were dating only fueled Rhysand's jealousy and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes dramatically. “Oh, he’s so nice, took us out for ice cream and we went to the theater,” they gushed. He couldn't shake the feeling that it should've been him – watching plays with you and your daughters, taking them out for ice cream together. The longing for the life he once had with you remained a persistent ache in his heart.

Of course he doesn’t let it go the next time you come around to drop off the girls

The joyful echoes of your daughters filled Rhysand's new and massive mansion, quickly greeting their father and saying goodbye before dashing inside, leaving you and Rhysand alone. Observing them run to the living room, playing with their new toys, you couldn't help but smile. With their father's violet eyes and dark hair, they were practically clones of Rhysand.

Caught in the moment, you looked up at Rhysand, finding his captivating eyes already fixed on you.

Fuck.

The intensity of his gaze almost made you forget the dinner plans with your boyfriend.

“I heard you were seeing someone,” he remarked, and you froze, feeling an unexpected twinge of embarrassment. It wasn't supposed to be a secret; you just weren't ready to share it yet. Trying to save face, you swallowed back any stutter and inquired,

“Who told you that?”

“My daughters told me all about him.”

That’s what you get for trusting 6 year olds. Your attempt at secrecy shattered, and you found yourself apologizing,

“Ah, sorry for not telling you about it; it's all very new, but the kids seem to like him. And I promise he wouldn’t be around them if i didn’t trust him.”

Rhysand's jaw ticked in frustration. Well, wasn't that just fucking great? Your daughters not only liked but loved the guy, and here you were, agreeing with them.

“So, you two hit it off. How marvelous.”

You sighed and looked away,

“Please, just don’t.”

Silence hung in the air as you both stood there, the weight of unspoken emotions filling the room. Breaking the silence, you sighed, signaling your readiness to leave your old house.

“Okay then, I'll be leaving now. I'll come pick them up later tonight. Thanks for watching them tonight, I know it was last minute. But, um, actually, can I pick them up tomorrow instead?” you asked, and Rhysand felt a flicker of suspicion, silently praying he was wrong.

“ I thought we agreed on tonight. Do you have other plans?” he inquired, hoping for a straightforward answer.

Your face flushed red as you considered explaining the evening's plans, but it felt wrong to share such details with Rhys. Opting for a lie, you hoped he wouldn't catch on.

“Oh, yeah, I've got some things I need to do at the hospital tonight. You know, just some reports on a few patients. Nothing major, but I might be a bit... worn out tonight, and that's why I need to pick them up tomorrow.”

The half-truth hung in the air, and Rhysand's suspicions lingered, creating a subtle tension in the farewell.

“So this has nothing to do with you going on a date with your little friend? Sorry, boyfriend.”

Before you could respond, Rhysand stepped closer, closing the gap until there was almost no room between you. You backed away slowly until your back hit the front door. His towering presence made you look up at him, a shiver running down your spine. Tilting his head, he approached your ear, and the soft words he spoke, combined with the warm breath on your skin, sent a wave of heat through your body.

“It should be us, love. Please come back to me,” he murmured, and your eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the proximity. As his hands came around your waist, turning you around so your back rested against his sturdy chest, it became impossible to leave the embrace of his warmth. Deep down, a part of you didn't want to escape the intoxicating sense of his presence.

He pulls you even closer, wrapping his arms around your middle as his calm heartbeat pounds against your back, his words confessing a truth that breaks your heart twice.

Once, because the vision he paints sounds so ideal – the two of you getting back together, going on dates, playing with your daughters, being a whole family again. It's the life you had once dreamed of, the life you wanted with the man you spent centuries with, the father of your kids, your greatest love.

The second break comes with the painful reminder of why you found yourself in this mess in the first place. Rhysand had been too consumed by his work, constantly holed up in his office, neglecting the precious time with you and your daughters. Despite understanding the importance of his duties, you couldn't help feeling the sting of neglect. It reached a breaking point when your girls tearfully asked for their daddy every night, only to find he wasn't there.

Realizing the toll this dynamic took on your family's well-being, you made the difficult decision to part ways. Telling Rhys that you weren't good for each other at the moment, you emphasized the need for him to work on himself and find a balance between work and family.

As you gather the strength to move out of his grip, facing him becomes the hardest task.

Turning around to meet his gaze, his face reveals the devastation within. His once vibrant features now wear a sad and empty color. You utter words that add another layer to the heartbreak,

“Rhys, please, you know we can't. Someday but not now.”

His eyes gloss over as he whispers,

“Fate was not in our favor, my dear. But I swear on everything I have, I will do my best to earn you back.”

Tears well up as he kisses your forehead, whispering promises of finding a way back to you.

The weight of the unspoken goodbye lingers, and you walk away, hoping that time and healing would pave a path for the future you both yearned for.

Because you did want to be with him, you really fucking did, and you cried the whole way home. Rhys had given you the town house while he lived in the River estate. The tears flowed even more freely as you sat in your empty and silent house.

Each sob intensified as you went to your cold and empty bed, the very one that used to cradle him in – your husband, your heart. The ache of the empty space beside you was a painful reminder of the love that once filled those sheets, now replaced by solitude and the haunting echo of what had been lost.

—

Your puffy eyes opened slowly, abruptly yanked from a deep slumber by the pounding on your door. Glancing at the clock on your desk, the numbers 1:46 glared back at you – who the hell could it be at this hour? Irritated, you stumbled to the door, ready to chew out whoever dared disturb your sleep.

The door slammed open, revealing Sam standing there, visibly upset. Your still-sleepy brain failed to connect the dots fast enough, and it took a moment to register that you were supposed to be on a date with him tonight. The realization dawned, and you found yourself caught in the awkward aftermath of a missed arrangement, facing Sam with both confusion and exhaustion etched on your face.

“Where the hell have you been? I have been waiting for hours,” he exclaimed, his worried and angry eyes searching yours.

Feeling a twinge of guilt, you pulled him in by his hands, urging him to come inside. Apologizing over and over, you hugged him tightly, saying that you fell asleep over and over until he forgave you.

A part of you knew you did it to calm his potentially violent reaction.

“At least your alive. Next time, let me know so I don't look like a fucking idiot,” he said, his comment irking you despite understanding where he was coming from.

Stepping closer, you wrapped your arms around Sam's neck, pulling him into a distracting kiss that escalated quickly.

Before he could say anything more about the situation and grow even more angry you kissed him again, trying to shift his focus elsewhere, which was easy. He lifted you and walked you toward the bed, the same one you had shared with Rhys.

Suddenly, a wave of panic hit you at the thought of another male's scent mixing with Rhysand's. With huffed breath and panicked words, you interrupted the moment, “No, not the bed. Let's just use the couch instead.”

Your urgency left no room for argument as you pulled him toward the living room, desperate to avoid a mix of past and present that could overwhelm you with regret.

—

The birds chirping outside stirred you from your sleep as you stretched in your soft bed. Morning got here quicker than you thought. However, the warmth you felt next to you wasn't just the morning sun – it was Sam. Your eyes opened, facing the clock, you saw it was very early in the morning, 3:57. The memories of the previous hours hit you like a brick. A bigger realization followed – Sam's scent now filled the air, replacing the familiar citrusy aroma that had been your husband’s for centuries.

This revelation overwhelmed you, making you want to throw up as tears welled up as panic set in. Crying over this felt foolish, considering your separation from Rhys, but it made everything feel permanent and official, like there was no turning back. The chance to reconcile seemed lost.

As you stood up, the room spun with regret, and you slithered to the bathroom. The sight that greeted you made your stomach churn – bruises covered your neck, arms, and legs. Your hair was a mess, and your lips were swollen. More tears fell as regret, deep sorrow, and the weight of your choices consumed you.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

It wasn't supposed to be like this at all.

In your panicked state, you stepped into the shower, hoping to wash away not only the physical remnants of the night but also the emotional burden that clung to your every step.

The steaming shower brought no comfort, and as you shut it off and walked up to the mirror, wiping away steam, you saw a hollowness in your own eyes. The water didn't wash away the feel of Sam's hands on you. But you knew you could drink a tonic for the bruises, so you could atleast pretend it never happened.

Frustrated and heartbroken, you couldn't stop the tears from flowing. The one person you needed the most, Rhys, felt impossibly distant, intensifying the ache inside you.

Desperation took over, and wiping away tears, you threw on a robe, downed the healing tonic and quickly ran over to his house. Each step carried regret and a deep yearning to fix what had gone wrong.

Your Rhys, the father of your children, yours.

He was what you needed in the moment, he’d make it all better.

In the midst of irrationality and impulsivity, you could not find it in you to care about the consequences. All you needed was him.

You burst into his estate, slamming open the doors before frantically searching for him.

“Rhys?”

Your attempt at a yell came out as an ugly cry, tear-stained and choked.

Yet, it was enough to grab his attention.

Rhysand descended the stairs, clad only in pants, his trademark messy bedhead on display as worry etched across his face.

It was so unlike you, and it had him speculating the worst.

Before he could ask you any questions, you ran up to him and broke down in his arms. Rhysand immediately comforted you, picking you up, and hauling you upstairs to his bedroom.

No words were needed as he undressed your sobbing form and put you in his shirt before pulling you closer to him, making you sit in his lap.

Your face buried in his neck, tears dampening his skin. Rhysand, familiar with your ways, sensed you’d open up when ready. He sat, holding you, flooding your mind with love and reassurance without a single word.

Rhysand conjured a glass of water, holding it to your lips, ensuring you didn't exert yourself. As you downed the refreshing water, he gently tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, his hand lingering by your neck. His thumb traced soothing circles on your cheek, a silent gesture of comfort.

“Thank you, Rhysie. M’sorry for showing up like this but I just needed you.”

His gaze intensified, his grip firm yet reassuring as he held your chin, locking eyes with you. With a seriousness that touched deeply, he spoke, his words carrying a sense of unwavering commitment.

“You don’t apologize for it. I’m here for you, no matter what. Do you understand?”

You nod, throat closing up at the wave of emotions,

“I understand.”

He leans forward, kissing your forhead while cradling your head,

“Good girl. You want to tell me what’s going on?”

With teary eyes you look up to him and reveal what’s on your mind.

“I want us back together again. We belong together and I’m tired of pretending we don’t. I miss you so much. You’ve been working on yourself and I’ve been doing the same. I know we’re ready.”

Rhysand remained silent, his eyes studying you carefully. He sensed an emotional storm within you and was hesitant about decisions made in this state.

“I do not disagree. Reuniting our family, especially getting you back, my sweet girl, is my ultimate desire. But, I want you to sleep on it. I want us to discuss this when we're well-rested and more alert. What do you say?”

You knew you were being rash and quick, so you were thankful for Rhysand's guidance. You nodded in agreement.

He kissed your cheek and gently placed you under the sheets, joining you in bed. Rhysand pulled you closer, and soon you were resting on his chest, listening to the steady thudding of his heart.

“I’ve always loved you, Rhys, so much. I hope you know that.”

His heartbeat quickened as he pulled you even closer.

“I know, sweetheart. I love you too.”

—

The chirping birds and soft sunlight streaming through the window woke you up gently. Your body felt completely relaxed and at ease, knowing you were safe and sound. Stretching lazily, you sighed in contentment before rolling over in bed.

You felt the warmth of something next to you, so you snuggled closer, enjoying the comfort. After a few moments, you felt it stir.

The moving object was Rhysand. Your eyes widened, and for a moment, you almost scrambled away in panic before the events of this early morning flooded back to you.

Despite the fact that you had left your boyfriend alone in your house and now found yourself in your ex's bed, cuddled up to him, you didn't feel any panic. Instead, you felt indifferent. You felt surprisingly good, even better than before. You felt right. Like everything was in it’s place.

“Don't panic,” Rhysand murmured softly, reaching out to gently stroke your back. “We need to have that talk, darling.”

Nodding silently, you agreed to follow him downstairs, your mind racing.

You couldn't help but melt around him. There was no need to even use your brain around him. Rhys made everything feel delightful as he began fussing over you. He did everything from dressing you in the cutest outfits to gently brushing your hair. With his big, warm, comforting hands, he led you downstairs, making every step feel like a new chapter starting.

Once in the kitchen, Rhysand set to work, expertly whipping up breakfast as you watched him, a knot of anticipation forming in your stomach. You knew this conversation was important, but you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort as you observed his familiar movements in the kitchen.

You couldn't help but admire Rhysand as he moved around the kitchen, his muscles flexing with every movement. He had a newfound confidence about him, a certain dad-like aura that only added to his appeal. His masculine energy was buzzing, and combined with his good looks, it was hard not to be drawn to him. Rhys had grown impossibly more majestic and stunningly handsome in the years you were seperated.

Rhysand caught you staring, and a playful smirk tugged at his lips. “Like what you see?” he teased, his voice low and suggestive. The heat rose to your cheeks as you quickly looked away, unable to hide your blush.

“Maybe I do,” you whisper teasingly, a hint of mischief in your voice.

“Careful,” he warns with a playful glint in his eyes, matching your flirtatious tone.

As he handed you a plate filled with nostalgic food, you couldn't help but feel touched by his thoughtfulness. He had even removed the bits you didn’t like, showing that he remembered even the smallest details about you. It warmed your heart to know that he still cared so deeply.

After you finished eating, he cleared his throat with a serious yet excited tone and said, “Let's talk.”

With a nod, you accept and he extends his hand, guiding you to a cozy sitting room.

“Where are the twins?” you ask, curious when you don’t hear or see your daughters.

“They’re with Cassian and Nesta. They came and picked them up earlier this morning,” he responds.

You nod again, then sit down on the cushy couch next to him.

“Rhys, I’ve thought about it for a while, and I think yesterday just cemented it for me. I think I’m ready for us again, and I’ve missed us together. What do you think? I mean, do you want me too?”

He flashed you his most sincere and hidden smile he only showed you and grabbed your chin with his pointer and thumb

“Sweetheart, I’ve missed you more than words can express. Of course, I want us to be together again. You are my everything and I will never again risk you.”

He took a deep breath and looked down, his voice filled with remorse.

“I've hated myself for letting you go so easily. I wasn't there for you or the girls, and it will always be my biggest regret. I vow to never again disappoint you and to do everything in my power to earn back your trust in my presence. Please forgive me.”

As the faint burn of the promising bargain tattoo emerges on both his and your wrists, a soft smile graces your lips. With gentle assurance, you reach out and place your hand on his, your touch offering comfort and calmness.

“Rhys, I forgive,” you say sweetly and hopeful. “I've missed you, and I want us to be together again. Let's leave the past behind us and focus on building a future together, okay?”

Feeling his arms around you, you melt into the hug, wrapping your arms around his neck. His touch is comforting, and you revel in the warmth of his warmth. As he gently squeezes your waist, you giggle, feeling a sense of joy wash over you.

He attacked your cheek with kisses, making him land on top of you on the couch as your back rested on the seats.

“But I think we should take it slow. Maybe start off by going on dates.”

He pulls back and looks at you, his gaze intense yet tender. “Yes. Let's take it slow. We have all the time in the world, no need to rush.”

You both sit there, locked in a silent exchange, the air thick with anticipation as you inch closer to each other.

“We definitely shouldn't kiss, right?” you ask, feeling the heat of his breath mingling with yours.

His arms tighten around you as he speaks softly, his words grazing your lips. “We shouldn't.”

The moment your lips touch, tears prick at the corners of your eyes. It's been so long since you felt the familiar warmth of his kisses, the feeling of home in his embrace. Rhysand, your darling, the love of your life—you've missed him more than words can express.

As the kisses grow more messy and desperate, a soft whimper escapes your lips, causing his eyes to darken with desire.

A sudden panic washed over you at the thought of your now ex-boyfriend waking up to find you gone.

“Rhys, I have to go back and end things with Sam,” you blurted out, your voice raspy and flustered between kisses.

Rhys's expression darkened as he heard about your ex-boyfriend.

“I'll handle it,” he declared, determination lacing his voice.

“What does that mean?” you pressed, curious and a little concerned.

He responded with a secretive smile, kissing you again, his touch making you melt into him.

“Don’t worry your little head about it. I got it covered,” he assured, his tone confident and reassuring.

So you let it go. If he said he had it handled, then you trusted him to take care of it.

His assurance left you feeling cared for, sparking a desire for more. More of him, and more of that comforting reassurance he provided.

Before you could voice your need for him, he beat you to it. With a tender kiss on your forehead, he spoke softly.

“I’m going to take you upstairs and make up for lost time. But before we start, I’m going to feed you a little bit more. Don’t argue, you’re going to need the energy.”

Your mind went blank, slipping into a submissive state, ready to follow his lead without question.

With a nod, you rose from your seat, arms outstretched in silent compliance.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured as he lifted you effortlessly, cradling you in his arms. With each step towards the kitchen, his gentle strokes on your hair and whispered promises of what lay ahead sent shivers down your spine, heightening the anticipation of what was to come.

After quickly eating the food he conjured up, you stood up in a rush and grabbed his hand, urging him to take you upstairs right away.

He chuckled and scooped you up, showering kisses on your lips and neck as he carried you upstairs, your legs instinctively wrapping around his middle.

Your nails dig into his scalp, head thrown back as you whimper with pleasure. Your toes curl as his teeth graze against a sensitive spot, his smirk growing against your skin.

“Tell me, darling. How do you want it today?”

You're only aware that you're inside the bedroom when he sets you down in front of the bed.

You know exactly how you want it. You want him to take charge, dominating your every move, just like he used to. Rhys knew how quickly you submitted to him, and he had a hunch of how tonight would go. It was easy slipping into those roles with him in charge. So you look up at him with a shy smile, fondling with the strings of his dark linen pants, and tell him.

“Can we please do level four?”

Pride spread across him at your good manners. He loved that you still knew what to do even after years of not being together.

He would have sent all his loving emotions through the bond if it existed. The absence of a bond between him and you always seemed abnormal. Both of you questioned the Mother’s decision all the time, hiding the fact that you both were scared of the possibility of your mates popping up and claiming the other.

Shaking away his thoughts, he smiled at your words again and complied.

Step by step, he undressed you, his eyes never leaving yours. Rhysand’s eyes dropped to your pebbled nipples, goosebumps erupting on your skin at the intense attention he gave you.

“You still remember the safe word?” he rasped out, his pupils expanding as you nodded, your lips nervously caught between your teeth.

He pounced on you, eagerly kissing you in a brusing manner as he tightened his arms around you. Rhys slowly made you back, resulting in you falling backwards into the bed before he climbed on top of you.

His hands found your waist amd subtly squeezed before sliding up to your boobs and playing with your hardened nipples.

You whimpered in pleasure, making him smile as he lowered his mouth to attatch to your right breast. His wet, warm tounge swirled around the bud, biting and licking soothingly. He repeated the move on the other side, reveling in the way you were squirming under him.

“Is it too much, sweetheart?”

“Not enough.”

So his hand slid down your body until his thumb brushed over your throbbing clit. Your eyes rolled back when he put pressure on it, rubbing tight circles against you. It was almost mortifying how quick you melted and lost your mind.

A few more circles and you’d be cumming. Almost, almost.

The pleasure was short-lived when he removed his thumb, causing you to pout slightly as your brows furrowed in confusion.

“No teasing. You can play later, I’ve missed you too much.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a heated makeout session.

You also wrapped your legs around his waist and whispered against his lips,

“I need you so bad, please. I need your entire being.”

He slipped one finger in, sliding in all too easily. So he added another finger and felt your walls pulse around him. Rhys pulled them out before shoving them back in, repeating the move, stroking your walls. He curled his fingers inside as he carefully watched your face morph from a begging expression to a fucked out smile.

“I will give you whatever your heart desires,” he murmured against your lips before kissing you again. As he did, he conjured his massive and majestic wings, spreading them proudly behind him, a breathtaking display of power.

Your wobbly smile melted into tears of joy as you whispered, “There you are,” feeling overwhelmed by the rush of emotions at seeing him again.

Rhys didn’t waste a single second, pulling you forward and slowly positioning himself in front of you. He held onto his cock, letting the tip trace your pussy, circling it and letting your wetness drip onto his cock. Stroking the wetness along his cock, he used it as a lubricant before he slid himself inside you.

Rhys pulled out and then in again until his entire cock was stuffed in you. He then leaned forward, putting his forehead in the crook of your neck, gently biting and sucking hickies onto your skin. He began thrusting, harder and harder. The entire room echoing with skin slapping, groans and pornstar-like moans.

Rhysand’s gripped your hips in a brusing manner, rocking them back and forth forth as he moved his own hips.

He lifted his head and gently brought his hand to your face, cupping your chin as he murmured,

“You're mine. Mine to love, to fuck, to have.”

You nod eagerly, your need evident.

“Only yours, baby. Forever and always, yours.”

He growled softly and turned your body around so you were on all fours. Gripping your hair, he pulled it back, causing your back to arch against his chest.

Rhysand put his dick back in and pumped deliciously against that spongy spot that had you acting like a mindless fool.

“You got fucked this good while we were seperated, hm?”

His hand snaked up and held your neck, applying a gentle pressure, a hint of restraint, as he taunted you.

Of course, he already knew the answer. But it was always nice to hear it from you.

“M-right, there, no one compares to you. No one could ever, ah fuck, do me this good. P-please, let me cum.”

“Fuck, yeah that’s right. But I think it’s a little too early for you to cum. I told you I wanted to make up for lost time. We’re nowhere near done.”

You let out a whine at the denial, a little vexed that he didn’t give you permission yet. But you knew he had plans so you decided to wait in hopes of getting something better.

“Good things come for good girls, you know that right?”

“I understand. Just keep going.”

You knew you forgot to add a please and were more than happy when he gave your puffy clit a slap.

“Manners.”

“Keep going, please.”

He chuckled at how quick you gave in and kissed your cheek, letting go of your hair and pushing you forward to your elbows and knees. Rhys grabbed your hips and gave you deep, slow and intentional strokes. Almost like he wanted you to cum early.

Rhys kept going for a long time, bringing you to the edge, only to snatch away pleasure in the last second. You were tired but knew all of this was building up into the most intense and powerful orgasm ever.

“Do you know how much I love you? Do you have any idea how deep my love for you goes?”

Cue the waterworks.

Really, his words started making you bawl right there. With concern etched on his face, he gently moved you into missionary, turning the back-breaking backshots into a tender moment. As he pushed in for the last time, he hovered above you, his forearms on either side of your head, kissing your puffy lips.

“I love you too, Rhysie, so, so much. There's really no one I love more than you.”

Your words were raspy and choked, his words were sweet and understanding.

“I know, sweet girl. I know you do.”

Suddenly, a snap felt in your chest. You both locked eyes, breathing heavily as you felt a thread weaving your very souls together. Tears prickled in your eyes at his words.

As the realization of the mating bond sinked in, a warm glow envelops both of you, filling the room with a sense of love and belonging. Rhysand's eyes softened even more, if that's possible, as he gazed into your tear-filled eyes.

“You're my mate,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe and reverence. “My soulmate, my other half.”

You reached up to cup his cheek, feeling the connection between you grow stronger with each passing moment. “And you're mine,” you replied, your voice filled with emotion. “Forever and always.”

Rhysand moved quicker and quicker, finally allowikg you to cum.

You were on the verge of passing out, the only reason there was any sort of fight in you left was because of the charged bond.

Before he pulled out, you locked your legs around him and begged him to stay inside. He did and slumped on top of you, his head resting on your raising and falling chest. You ran your hands through his damp, dark hair and reveled in warmth when he wrapped his wings around the two of you.

You both rest for a while before starting up again. Normally, a session like this would have you knocked out cold but you guessed it was the fresh bond.

The entire day was spent tangled in sheets and fucking in showers, other rooms, hallways, kitchens, roofs. Rhysand also sent a mental message to everyone in the inner circle, breaking the news and asking them not to disturb you for at least a week. He also asked Cassian to keep looking after the girls and warned that anyone who got too close would likely die.

—

You and Rhys, lay together in a pile of fluffy blankets and pillows on the floor, the bed damaged and broken from the week’s activities.

“Rhys, do you know what I think? I think it’s kind if poetic that we broke up and then became mates. I mean, it sounds very romantic.”

He chuckled and pulled you closer to his chest.

“You know what? I agree. The Mother does work in mysterious ways. I guess we weren’t ready before.”

You smile at him and nod,

“I’m glad we find our way home.”

With a tender look and a sweet kiss, he whispered,

“As am I, darling.”

🏷️ taglist: @tayswhp @jenjen-0-x @itsinherited @thisblogisaboutabook @luvmoo @se7enteen--black-blog @feyretopia @possiblyphobia @azriels-mate2 @sfhsgrad-blog @readychilledwine @amara-moonlight @tothestarsandwhateverend @blupblupfish @cleverzonkwombatsludge @iloveazrielshadowsinger @cat-or-kitten @dreamlandreader @honeybeeboobaa @queerqueenlynn @rowaelinsdaughter @redbleedingrose @clairebear08 @danikamariewrites @midnight-and-books @ruler-of-hades @annaaaaa88 @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @stasiereads @harryshoobies69 @itsagrimm @a-dorkier-book-keeper @b0xerdancer @erikan809 @glittervame

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xxsabitoxx · 9 months

Text

My Personal Hashira 🍆 Size Ranking

Warning: if it ain’t obvious, this contains smut lmao — therefore Muichiro is 100% not included in this. We’re talking about 🍆, length, girth, all the fun stuff. So if PPs make you uncomfortable keep on scrolling babes </3

A/N: these low key stress me out cause I feel like people can get pretty defensive over these types of Headcanons. Especially if my own thought differs from yours. Regardless, these are just my personal takes/HCs. My word is not law so do not be upset if my HC does not match yours / don’t feel the need to change how you HC these things to fit my POV. This is why I refrain from describing size in my fics, I want y’all to imagine it in a way that you like lololol

Lastly, idgaf if you see some of this as unrealistic, these are fake, fictional drawings of men, if I wanna give Gyomei a 44ft long 🍆, I can and will (I didn’t but you get the point.) Anyways enjoy my personal thoughts on this matter

1. Himejima Gyomei

Is anyone fucking shocked that this 7’2 (220cm) man is packing the biggest schlong among the male Hashira?

I mean let’s be logical real quick, his dick is as big as the rest of him. This man’s dick is dragging on the floor.

Soft: 11.2

Hard: 12.3

Call it unrealistic idgaf this man is LONG

Girthy too, he’s fucking beefy all over

This man’s dick will feel like he’s shoving his wrist up in there ong bro

It curves downward slightly when hard, I mean shit that thing is heavy, it stands no chance against gravity

2. Uzui Tengen

Again, the man is 6’6 (198cm).

Height comes into play when it comes to our two tank Hashira

Therefore none of you should be surprised that they are the top two

Soft: 9

Hard: 10.3

Your guts are getting rearranged, he knows the length he has but often underestimates how far he can go…

He’s long but doesn’t have a crazy girth to him, which thank fuck it doesn’t take as much prep to take him

He’s pretty straight when hard and manages to flex it and keep it up (he totally does dick tricks & you can’t convince me otherwise)

3. Tomioka Giyu

I’m standing by my “big dick Giyu” head canon. I just know this man is packing a weapon down there

What’s crazy is he wasn’t even aware of how good he had it until he overheard other corps members chatting

Soft: 6.3

Hard: 7.4

He’s got a decent girth and as weird as it may sound, it’s pretty, like really pretty to look at

When hard, it curves upwards and stands at attention which makes him a bit embarrassed

He knows how to use it, because of that he’s pretty confident in that aspect which is wild for him

He will also rearrange your guts unintentionally (or intentionally hehe)

4. Shinazugawa Sanemi

I don’t wanna hear one PEEP from any of you that Sanemi should be above Giyu.

My man is forth on the list but that ain’t mean shit, he’s still got a lot going on down there

Soft: 6

Hard: 7

He’s girthy, will tear you up girth, needs thirty minutes of prep minimum because of how wildly he fucks girth

He sticks straight out, no curve in sight and honestly looks like he defies gravity.

He’s like Tengen, can do dick tricks. But unlike Tengen he doesn’t make that known / show you lmao.

He’ll break your back, he may even hurt you (fully unintentional) if he gets too into it. That thing is fr a weapon

5. Rengoku Kyojuro

He’s fifth on the list but trust me he’s not lacking

He’s second smallest, but he’s not small, if you get what I mean. It’s kinda like how we rank the Hashira weakest to strongest but regardless they are still the strongest in the corps… that make sense?

Soft: 5.8

Hard: 6.8

He curves upwards, very prominent veins running along his shaft (heh, shaft)

Girth wise, he’s about normal. Not too intimidating but def offers you a good stretch, forgoing prep is real bold tbh

He’s a quick learner so he quickly masters how to fuck you

He will strive to go as far as your body will let him, so expect to be bruised / sore

6. Iguro Obanai

My king. He may be “smallest” among the Hashira men, but that doesn’t mean shit.

He’s not self conscious of his dick, he knows how to use it. He’s also pretty content with it’s size

Soft: 5.6

Hard: 6.5

See? You can’t come for me cause he ain’t even SMALL

Obanai’s dick is pretty, too. It curves upwards slightly, since he’s pretty pale, his veins are prominent

He’s got an average girth, he doesn’t need to prep you forever to get you ready. Which works in his favor cause he likes to “punish” you with no prep & going in raw

He can and will abuse your cunt, he’s not satisfied until you genuinely can’t walk without limping for a few days

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thetarsier · 11 months

Note

heyyy!! i hope you’re well!! i was hoping you could write a jealous!aaron x reader where she’s basically getting hit on while she’s at girls night and maybe penelope snaps a picture of her and the guy and sends it to the BAU gc and aaron basically drives over and suprises you because he was jealous

a/n: hi! thank you for the request, lovely, i was so excited to write this one :)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings/notes: drinking, asshole-type men (yes that's a warning)

<3: aaron hotchner x fem!reader, established relationship

Girls' night always - always - ended in one of your own getting hit on. Usually, it was JJ, but Emily fielded her fair share of creepy drunk men. Penelope tended to go after men herself, and you were the quiet one that laughed along with the others at the strange men eyeing them up. Rarely were you ever the target of their affections.

It was something that the other girls constantly tried to change, with JJ repeatedly pointing you out to the men who came over to the table (which almost always ended in you ducking away to the bathroom until the guy got the hint). They didn’t know that you were more than content being an observer of their conversations, happy to celebrate the numbers Emily and Penelope received and laugh over the rejections of the men that came after JJ.

They didn’t know, because they all still thought that you were single. You’d never told them otherwise, and that was mostly because of who you were currently dating: Aaron Hotchner, your boss.

It was a connection that blossomed over the many years of you being at the BAU, not the same as some rushed, half-assed attempt to score during a night out. He loved you, and you loved him, and you were trying to take it slow out of the eyes of your coworkers. It’d worked for almost two years now with only a few minor slip-ups that were easy to explain away to the people who’d witnessed them.

Not Rossi, however. Rossi had you two figured out almost as soon as you started to take things seriously, and now he acted as your protector. He changed subjects, scolded, and made those who questioned you or Aaron seem stupid. He was the perfect person to have as a secret keeper, mostly because he didn’t have it in him to care that much.

And he’d done a beautiful job, too. It was a running joke on the BAU group chat that Penelope’s mission on your nights out was to find you someone to go home with. This was why, despite your usual invisibility, when a guy approached you at the bar, you were left alone with him, your girlfriends disappearing into the crowd around you.

“-And so, yeah, I would say I’m self-made. I mean, my dad did lend me most of the money I used to actually start up, and all of my customers came from the family company, too, but I run the place, you know?” The guy interrupted his ramblings to take a sip from his beer, and you continued your nodding.

You were used to listening to fast ramblings, thanks to Spencer, but usually his monologues were interesting, and you could follow them with relative fascination. This guy was just… awful. At storytelling, and being a good conversationalist in general.

“He hasn’t stopped talking this whole time,” JJ observed from their table, shaking her head, “Can’t imagine he’s particularly decent.”

“She hasn’t walked away, yet, though,” Emily shrugged, “Maybe he’s like Reid?”

“Does he look like Reid?” Penelope pulled her phone out of her bag, “Doesn’t matter. Mission half accomplished - everyone has to see this.”

She snapped a photo of the two of you, him leaning into you, you leaning onto the bar. From an outsider's perspective, with the angle that Penelope had taken the photo, it might have looked like you were enjoying his advances more than you actually were. You felt the vibration in your pocket as Penelope sent your photo to the group chat, but you didn’t look, too focussed on how you were going to get out of the man’s company without causing a scene to care about what your phone was doing.

“Oh, look,” Emily pointed to Penelope’s phone, “Morgan’s already responded-” She switched to a lower tone of voice as she read out the man’s text. “-Doesn’t count, Babygirl. Nobody’s gone home yet.”

“He’s right, you know,” JJ looked back at you and the man, “And I don’t think this is a match made in heaven.”

“I can’t keep losing this bet!” Penelope complained as she shoved her phone back in her bag and sat down, disheartened.

“Ha!” Emily laughed, looking at her own phone, “Hotch has seen it.”

“Oh, that’s embarrassing,” JJ stifled her own laugh by taking a sip of her drink, “Delete it, Garcia. Her boss has seen that.”

“He’s seen it all - he’s in the group chat,” Penelope defended, “Maybe the embarrassment of her constant failure will lure her into a perfect match.”

“That makes sense,” Emily commented sarcastically, eyes roaming over the crowd.

You laughed politely at the man’s joke before averting your eyes down to your lemonade. You weren’t supposed to be the designated driver - the four of you were meant to get a cab - but once you’d found out about Penelope’s plan, you’d switched to non-alcoholic drinks.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust yourself, but you studied serial killers and rapists for a living, and you knew that some men liked to take advantage. If you were drunk, you couldn’t defend yourself as well as if you were sober. Usually, it wasn’t an issue - you had your girls - but sometimes the anxiety was too much for you to enjoy a drink, and that anxiety only increased tenfold when you were left alone with a guy.

The man’s droning on was getting so tedious that when you looked over his shoulder and saw Aaron - neat suit and all - you thought you had imagined him. Then, when he started moving closer, you started to worry that he would get the wrong idea.

But, he knew you, and you could tell by his caution that he was well aware of how you were feeling, tuned into your discomfort. Once you’d confirmed that your boyfriend was, in fact, in the same bar as you, you smiled and communicated with your eyes something that you hoped sounded like: ‘Get the hell over here right now.’

“Excuse me,” Aaron attached himself to your side, and you instantly felt safer, “What are we talking about over here?”

“Hey, back off, man,” The guy stood up straighter, and Aaron slipped an arm around your waist, “I’ve been talking to her all night.”

“Yes, and clearly it was riveting conversation,” Aaron eyed the many empty bottles surrounding the two of you and then your own singular glass of lemonade with disdain, “But it’s time to say goodnight.”

He didn’t even allow the man to say anything else, just used his grip on your waist to spin the two of you around and toward where he knew the girls were sitting. His arm left your waist once the two of you were no longer shielded by other people, and as you approached the tall table, sliding into the spare chair, you scowled at Penelope.

“Next time you try to set me up against my will, at least make sure he’s not a jerk.”

“Next time, my love.” She promised, placing a warm hand on your shoulder.

Aaron stood to your right, in between you and JJ, and you gestured to him as you looked between your three friends, “Look at who had to come and save me,” You feigned annoyance, and acted as though you were secretly telling the girls of your embarrassment, “How did you even know we were here?”

“Oh, my God. He saw the photo.” Penelope gasped.

“The what?”

“Garcia put a photo of you and the guy on the group chat to try and prove that she’d succeeded in her mission,” JJ admitted, amusement swimming in her blue eyes as she looked between you and Aaron.

“Oh, you’re asking for an HR case,” You pointed a finger at the flamboyant blonde, who smiled sweetly at you, tucking her hands underneath her chin, “You sent a picture of me at a bar to all of my colleagues?”

“If it makes you feel any better, Morgan said it doesn’t count.”

“Oh, great, so you sent my picture to my colleagues, and it didn’t even count.” You were only joking with them, and each of them was well aware of that fact.

“Still,” Emily turned her attention back to Aaron, “Why are you here?”

You also turned to look back at him as he rubbed the back of his neck. He clearly hadn’t thought much past the initial urge to save you from your misery, and you were sure that not even Rossi could’ve lied your way out of the situation.

“Um…” He narrowed his eyes, brain working overtime for something believable, “I was here already for, the, uh…”

His eyes darted down to yours in desperation. You laughed at him, leaning your head back onto his shoulder and reaching your hand down to grab at his. The secrecy was on your account, as most things in your relationship were; not only because he was technically your boss, but also because he was head-over-heels obsessed with you. It was created on your account, and you would be the one to break it.

“Okay, guys, there’s a reason why I never go home with anyone from the bar…” You grinned, peeking up at Aaron from where the back of your head rested just below his chin before you looked back at the girls.

Penelope was shocked into silence, her mouth wide open, hands stuck out by her sides, JJ was sporting a happy smile of her own, and Emily had a hand over her mouth, eyes blown with shock. After a few seconds of silence, where Aaron squeezed your hand to soothe both of your nerves, the group sprung into action.

“Oh, my God!” Emily chuckled, “I knew there was something going on. I knew it!”

“Oh, this is… This is…” Penelope waved her hands around.

“Wonderful,” JJ finished, reaching over to touch your other hand that rested on the table, “And congratulations - you had everyone fooled.”

“It’s been hard,” You conceded, “Sometimes during hard cases, it was slightly too hard, but we’ve gotten through it.”

“Oh, you guys,” Penelope tilted her head to the side, “You’re too adorable.”

“And on that note,” You smiled, picking up your purse, “I think we should probably go.”

You said your goodbyes, and Aaron managed to get out his own through his uncharacteristic blushes and stutters, and you made your way out to Aaron’s car, hand in hand.

“Why did you come?” You asked him out of curiosity once he’d climbed into his side of the car.

“Honest answer?” He raised an eyebrow and you nodded, turning your body towards his, “Really, I saw that photo of you with the guy, and I didn’t even think about it. I just got in the car.”

“Oh, you were jealous,” You teased, poking his arm gently, “It’s okay, Hotchner, I’m all yours, anyway.”

“Good,” He leaned over the centre console, fingers gripping your chin and encouraging your face closer to his, “Because I’m all yours.”

Each of his kisses was a seal to his promise.

It was only in the morning, when you finally checked your phone after a night with Aaron, that you realised another photo had been snapped of you. One of you and Aaron walking out of the bar holding hands. Penelope had sent it to the group chat with the message ‘Mission finally successful.’

The group chat had barely shut up since, question after question rolling into your inbox.

You groaned, falling back into your pillow, where Aaron kissed a path from the tip of your middle finger to your cheek, smiling against your skin.

“If it makes you feel any better, Dave will stop bothering us about telling the truth now,” He mumbled into your neck, and you sighed, a smile on your face as you played with his hair.

“Very true, Hotchner. Just remember: it was your jealousy that got us into this mess, so you’re dealing with the questions we’re going to get.”

He laughed into your skin, an agreement.

#aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #but h'sversion

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satocidal · 5 months

Text

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ “Opposites Attract?!”— Gojo Satoru

Synopsis: the famous rich boy of the campus and the Dean’s daughter? Scandalous—especially when they’re both jealous as hell.

— A/n: Roughly based on something from my real life lmao— except that we didn’t get together because hehe. Also, this is the first part of a kinkmas fic that I have planned, it’s been broken since the fic was getting too long <3 (both can be read stand-alone!) Tagging @romiyaro @draecys @maeby-cursed because yes; nsfw version <3

— Word count: 5.7k

— warnings: Fem! Reader x Satoru Gojo; slightly suggestive Suguru and Mei Mei (they deserve to be warnings here); undertones if jealousy; a kiss (or three) at the end, I know—scandalous right; Reader wears spects in one scene; this has a LOT of bickering. Just banter for that matter, reader says smn about sex work BUT I assure you it’s not supposed to be in a negative light <333

4.5 g.p.a—a perfect reputation that you held, a decent social life—an amazing father to back you up, you weren’t ever part of the fraction of people who got in through with scholarships, why would you when your father stood as the dean? —but you’d worked for it.

3.7 g.p.a—it could’ve been far better, easily, if he only put himself in—far too loud a social life with a following of 4k+ on his Instagram while he only followed back his best friend and pretty little things (for a day or so)—part of the fraction who got paid in, who never struggled for it.

Sure, you hadn’t really struggled either—but hypocrisy was only allowed to one and you chose to take your chance.

You didn’t…despise him, the man that Gojo Satoru stood out to be, but lords, you hated the concept around it.

The loud cackle at the back of each lecture—the proxies and his fan girls, you hated it all.

More so, you hated just how enamored your dad was—after all, it was Gojo Satoru that had won the trophies and the plaques—Satoru Gojo that was a Power Player.

But the credit wasn’t to be forgotten for you too—dabbling in all that was academic, if the second half of your dad’s office as the dean were filled with Satoru’s achievements, the first half was yours.

Two sides of the same coin.

Your eyes never left your dad for a second, “you can’t possibly expect that out of Me dad,” the whine wasn’t subtle, nor the snicker that gojo let out at your words and outlet—earning a hard glare.

And to all the pampering and spoiling your father had to offer, it all failed when it came down to the pride and prestige of the university.

“It’s non-negotiable y/n,” the sleek brown in his room shone that afternoon, polished—every groove, every rounded corner—almost a story to behold.

“Yeah! Tell her Mr.Dean,” another snicker- another glare, your father sighed in his dismay.

“You,” your father glared at him, “need to find a way to shove it in your schedule as well—you’re both the elected representatives.”

To end with all whines and groans.

“I have no idea how but I need you two to find a presence of mind and perform your best in curating an experience at the fest. Dismissed.”

A sharp inhale, yours and the roll of Satoru’s eyes, your dad was aware how interesting an evening and a fest in general he would be witnessing.

You’d known Gojo Satoru for 3 years now, spending the last together at the University, standing as the President of Student Council—all against Gojo’s constant “nepotism” comments while he stood as the Captain of the Football Team—against your criticism as well.

A certain peak in the way you two governed your particular fields independently but, together?

Well.

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t always that you both disliked each other but, you couldn’t exactly deny the certain distaste the day you’d set eyes on him…

~First Year~

“Dad, please, make sure that no one knows that you and I are, at all related,” a chuckle your father let out, “of course darling, but don’t get prissy when I don’t let you out with attendance matters and all,”

Another chuckle shared, nothing too serious.

“I’ve heard Gojo Satoru will be joining this year too?”

An innocent question, curious is all you were—anyone would be, one of the best the country had seen in years.

Your father nodded slowly, “just so happens to be true, stay in check though, don’t want messing with people like that,”

It was evident, the wary tone that your father had acquired over the years, dealing with all that was the ego of such students, who stood tall with the heap of money that belonged to their daddies.

A slow nod you passed too—your father smiled, you were a smart girl after all.

But fate was decided and what had to happen would happen for sure.

Because you swore to maintain the secret, you weren’t to be even found to have the slightest relation of blood with the Dean — but then whatever could you do when you step out blindly, bumping right into the guy you wanted not to.

A hiss and a curse—“the fuck? Watch where you’re going,” he mumbled-eyes boring into yours, and then simultaneously, at the car.

Anger that flashed down right—“watch your damn language,” unironically, you muttered—something he’d never let you live down.

“Woah there princess, what are you on? Some patrol duty round here-?” The smirk was infuriating, his disheveled hair all the more—especially when he continued messing it up all the more.

A scoff, yours—“Mind your own business,” a shove passed and an attempt to move away—“Y/n L/n?” He held your campus manual.

The certain way your name rolled off his tongue, it caught your attention—“ya dropped this,”

A smirk adored his face as he handed back to you the campus manual, of course it wasn’t anything you required but to solace your father, there you held it.

A cramped “Whatever,” you let out, snatching the booklet from his hands quick—wanting nothing more to do with the stranger that you’d bumped into.

Just as you walked away though, “L/n huh?” The words, his, that you knew would cause you issues.

“He’s Satoru Gojo?” Your surprise lay hidden under the music that boomed all too loud—watching closely the white haired boy you’d bumped into a couple days ago.

“Yeah? You didn’t know?” The grin on your now best friend, and then just-roommates-friend offered little help.

Of course you hadn’t, and now you wish you didn’t still.

It was true you’d spotted him all so much over the past few days, and the people that followed him and the rumors still—unaware to why and how.

But now, with all the pieces in your hand you wanted to hide away—especially when those blue eyes stared right back—with a grin he trampled over.

“Oi! L/n right? We met at the first day?”

You cringed at how loud he spoke—so very sure that absolutely everyone could hear him, all over the booming music.

A subtle nod you passed, trying to get away from the spotlight he’d casually thrown round you.

“Your dad’s the Dean right?”

Silence- literally, just as he said that, the music system paused too—you wanted to curse your luck.

Widened eyes—star-struck stares from all those adored Gojo, amused ones at you from everyone who bothered to think.

You’d have considered lying—unless Satoru Gojo hadn’t chosen to be a dick about it, “You guys have the same last names so I thought- and then, the other when we bumped into each other- remember?” He chuckled as a couple of girls let out audible gasps, envious that you had already touched him so.

Before opportunity even lay still, he continued, “so I thought, because frankly either you’re his daughter or…you know, mistress—but that I doubt,” you wanted to punch away the grin he held, the snicker and the secrets he dropped out like flies.

So while you stood there, waiting for the ostracism—Gojo only giggled, “Don’t worry though, you’re fine, got more of your mom’s genes right?”

Fuming, you stood there—red that masked your vision—“excuse you?” A brow remained cocked, Gojo’s facial expression never once changed—it was about to.

“You’re one to talk about dads huh? Your daddy donated in just about how much into your esteemed football team huh? To get you selected?”

Satoru wasn’t new to comments such, in fact that’s what he’d built his career over but just the way you said it—just the way your angry face stared back at him—he found you annoying, adorably so.

That night, Satoru’s fan following increased by a decent thousand or so, people became aware of you and maybe, you realized, being the Dean’s daughter wouldn’t be that bad a fact.

But all the more, Gojo and you formed a sudden bond still, dislike and nothing less masking the two of you whenever the other was mentioned.

A farce? Maybe—but you were easily, in too deep to stop now.

Often nights you spent, thinking how the two of you could be friends—but huge egos that clashed in, something told you it wouldn’t happen all so easily.

The following week and there on were interesting—you joked all week that you’d blocked Gojo, you never did.

Gojo swore he’d have you black-listed for being so audacious—he never did.

When the huge messaging group—meant to be dead in a day—was formed, you both ended up saving each other’s number discreetly, never to approach it again, at least for a while.

And that was just how it went on “he annoys me so much,” and “she annoys me so much,” but little by little, small steps in the dark—you both were each other’s biggest cheerleaders still- applauding each other louder than anybody else.

Hands clutching onto your notepad you continued jotting down the points—fingers working fast so as not to let a single bright thought escape you.

The event was huge—the University’s 150th Anniversary—perfect, grand, extravagant—to be organized partially, by you.

There was time, plenty—absolutely 1 months before the panic would settle in, 2 before it would be over.

But seconds were quick—hasty in the way they changed into minutes, hours to come and days passed by, never realized.

A finger raised to push your spects up the bridge of your nose—you sighed, eyes landing on the form in front of you—mouth ajar and his sunglasses fixated in his hair, another piece of candy tossed up high before he caught it in his mouth.

A frustrated sigh you let out—“can you please sit straight and help?”

His eyes bore into yours- cerulean, they were pretty, almost prettier than the whole of him, you hated it.

“Isn’t it your job?” A grin he passed, a clench of your jaw was all you could—“we’re in this together, don’t give me that bullshit,”

Another grin, “talk to me when you need booze,”

“You don’t even drink,” the words fell out your mouth all so quick, hesitant you looked at him—“how do you know?” It was an amused smirk that he held, it annoyed you how the man in front seemingly only talked in three supposed emotions.

A small break, “well, I uh- noticed through the parties,” it was true, you did notice through the parties—it was hard not to, since you didn’t drink—you couldn’t be all so sure about the rest.

“You notice me at parties? You notice me at all?” Urges inside you that had to be controlled, such a perfectly punchable face Satoru Gojo held—“help me work on this damn idea,” you mumbled, ignoring all of what he wanted to discuss.

A roll of his eye and yours—“not gonna do it so easily,”

A huff you let out.

Frustration at peak.

“Actually,” your voice was quieter than you expected it to be, “wouldn’t it be better if you were there to advise us? Me? You’ve been organizing parties for so long and,” your face turned towards him—smile never faltering at his disgusted expression—he knew what you were doing, he wasn’t new to sugar coating after all, “I would love learning from the best.”

Jaw clenched, hands sauntered over to the back of your chair—most would consider it an action of endearment, you knew better.

“I would beg to differ Ms. Daddy’s princess,” Your blood boiled at his ignorance—sure, he was Satoru Gojo—but nothing gave him the right to act superior when he stood at his father’s money itself.

Hell, all he was meant to be was just a batchmate, captain of a stupid team that barely mattered—you?

Sure, a well suited empire would never land on your back, nor a fortune as his until you’d worked half your life into it— but you were better, you knew it. Denial onto his privilege to negate the Authorities could’ve never been acceptable by you.

your eyes remained stuck onto the ground —defiant—“well, i suppose it would only be for the best,” stubborn you sat and so did he—stuck in between the thickening tension.

“The best,” his voice exasperated, “would be for someone like you to sit back down and do as you’re told.”

Mouth hanging just in the slightest, you dared not to meet his face—focusing on the little stains and creases you’d administered on your sneakers—eyes sneaking onto his pair, perfect, as expected.

“That’s a little rich, coming from you—”

“—and this is the best they’ve found? You? To help me huh?”

Bigoted. Nose flared, curses at the tip of your tongue and you could do nothing as he further scoffed, “getting a privileged bitch to do my job, now they know my worth huh?”

“Excuse you?” Shaky, you sat—words spilling out before you could stop it—“your worth? Absolutely as nothing, but a spoiled man-baby who cannot deal with things maturely?”

Confusion marked his face—of course he would be, all so blind to the simple generosity that gets offered to him—all so he can kick a ball.

“The event is in 2 months sir,” address regained to the topic, you spoke flatly, “I would well appreciate that you helped us in the organization of said fest—if not, well, it would be a sheer pity that the entire football team would have to suffer,”

And there lay your ultimatum, naked and threatening—and he knew it was all but empty.

“L/n,” Gojo coughed—not quite sure, uneasy evidently, with the tension that hung lose in the atmosphere—“You maybe influential in your own ways on the campus but-”

“-but I’m just a student here, as you are,” you looked directly at Gojo now, “And to adhere to rules is the basic of most authoritative environments. So I suppose, you’ll be all the more pliant in helping us plan the fest and encouraging our juniors to help us out.”

Defiant—squinted eyes of Gojo simply stared blankly—“Alright,” he muttered.

“If help is what you want, that’s what you’ll get.”

And the deal was settled—to your compromise and his.

A week had passed since—the discomfort only grew.

“What the fuck? You’re speeding rumours now?” Rough were the words that greeted you first the moment the two of you entered the study you currently sat in—a half shrug you passed him, “I would need help and rather than begging you for it, why not just keep you as my assistant?”

“Excuse you?” His tone, bewildered as he shut the door behind the two of you—“Your assistant?” He barked out a laugh—“They really are making sheer idiots now huh?”

“Says daddy’s little prince who couldn’t use his academics to get in like everyone else,”

A scoff he passed—“How very original, at least my daddy has the power and how is yours, at all better?” he let his words trail off, a smirk on his lips as he pulled a chair to lounge in, and well, all cases be true, his dad probably had more money than you could imagine.

The certain charm of Gojos, after all.

“Don’t gotta flex your daddy’s sex work like that buddy,” you muttered, pulling a chair across him—peculiar you found it that he didn’t do so much as throw a fit in objection to the forced responsibility.

“Just giving inspiration baby,” he drew out—he winked, phone pulled out fast as he typed, you sat by forgotten.

A roll of your eyes—“Help me at least,”

Silence- you sighed.

“You’re supposed to help,” again, the very same cold air met you—“Gojo,”

“Nope.”

A sharp intake of breath and you stared at him, had it not been for the pretty face he had you’d have punched him long ago—a second too long you stared however, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,”

Another eye roll—“Just fucking help me,”

“Ain’t gotta princess,” he finally looked up, “I’m here to advise you right?”

An inhale, exhale—biting down on your teeth you nodded, “Of course,” you muttered—which was what had led you to the current situation, tired, exasperated and annoyed.

An hour and a half, slow—very, spent staring a few times at the blank paper and then the ceiling, often Satoru Gojo and then his phone; a couple ideas popped by here and there, all useless—you knew that.

“You know,” you spoke carefully, “As someone who’s helping you bunk without losing attendance, you should really really be thankful,”

“A bouquet will be present in your dorm tonight doll,” not a single glance spared still—it was frustrating simply to sit such.

A sharp exhale you let out, head hung back—this was a stupid idea.

“You know what?” Chair pushed back, you stood up—“I’ll manage,” fingers clutched hard onto your notepad—it hurt when he didn’t do so much as even shrug as you moved towards the door.

Silence, as you turned the handle of the door to leave—not even a look from him.

You despised him.

#6942619412: Yo [11:54 p.m.]

Your eyes narrowed at the sudden text that popped up—ignorance enveloped you still, eyes focused onto the book of applied physics in front of you—regret boring into you as you tried your best to drill the concepts into you, preparing yourself for the soon-to-end semester exams.

#6942619412: busy? [11:56 p.m.]

You ignored still, creeped a little at the protrusion—not enough to let your book down—

#6942619412: idc [11:58 p.mp]

#6942619412: show me your plans [11:58 p.m.]

Face scrunched in annoyance, you stared at your screen—the periodic chimes of notification and the switch from the dull background to immediate light up—Satoru Gojo was somehow a master at infuriating you.

However, as stubborn as lay, you were no better—‘ignorance is bliss’ they said, and you were all too prepared to test it out.

#6942619412: bro wtf. Reply. [12:03 a.m.]

You noted mentally, the time gap between his texts—a sly smile adorning your face. Something in you screamed to not do it—to not go against Satoru Gojo such—the certain something fell to deaf ears as a shit-eating grin you beheld, typing your words in.

You: it’s pathetic of you to message like this [12:03 a.m.]

You: desperate? [12:03 a.m.]

A minute went by, then another—you sighed.

It was perhaps, a bad idea— chime!!

#6942619412: it’s needy of you to message back [12:04 a.m.]

#6942619412: you desperate? [12:04 a.m.]

A smirk—yours, a smirk—his.

You: you realize the first text of your day is to me? [12:04 a.m.]

#6942619412: you realize you’re taking note of how my day goes? [12:05 a.m.]

You: because you decided to bother me in mine—get to whatever you were saying [12:05 a.m.]

#6942619412: there there princess—I demand respect and send me your ideas- or better still I’ll come over to your dorm [12:06 a.m.]

Your eyes remained fixed at the screen; ‘come at your dorm’? Was he stupid?

You: there’s no need to come here gojo. I’ll send you everything right now.

You waited, patiently, however, ever so cruel—time was always slow, especially when waiting onto someone. 5 minutes grudged slow- you were afraid that he would actually show up. Would he?

No, of course not— even for him this was absurd, given the security and the time at night—he was probably asleep—

Knock.

A twist of your window pane’s handle- a thud of your heart and widened set of eyes.

Another knock and you were at your feet, stupidly, opening the window—widening it to welcome Satoru Gojo is your room—scandalous.

A smirk he held, form towering yours by a decent couple inches, “Neat room,” he whistled as he stood awkward, unsure onto whether to place himself until he found your study—making himself comfortable on the spot you just sat.

“Applied physics?” Curiosity laced his voice and a shrug you responded with — “So what?” You muttered, reaching in to close the book—he certainly took note of the tiredness your voice held.

“So you’re an idiot—it’s a tough field.”

Another shrug—“Gets me going and nothing could’ve sucked more than chemistry so,”

A snort he lay bare—only then did you realize how quiet it was, soft breaths, the new morning dancing about the timelines—your gaze on his, and his on yours. How so eccentric—not.

“You couldn’t deal with chemistry? Gotta be dumb or some shit,”

You scoffed—knowing where he was leading it, “do we really need me to redo the whole ‘got in because of your dad’ shit here?”

He grinned wide—and just then you noticed the perfect set of teeth—the ones you’d hoped to punch and break some day, “I think I’d wanna skip it tonight baby,”

“Don’t call me that,”

“Prissy, eh?”

A scrunch of your face, a wink his.

“Why, and dare I ask, how, did you get here?” Brows raised, expression amused as he paced about your room—taking it in, familiarizing himself.

“Don’t worry onto that doll, just show me your ideas,”

Your eye twitched, it was simply alien to you—the feeling of being treated normal by him. By Satoru Gojo- reality set in straight Every Time you realized that something in you, even if small, craved his attention, his validation.

Maybe that was why you were hurt—when he’d ignored you initially, when he’d shove you in the hall without a thought spared—when his gaze was all so disrespectful Everytime you approached Him.

Maybe it was just the social construct of it all.

Maybe it was something else.

So surprise was bound to grip you hard— he wanted your ideas?

“Well?” Fidgety, you noted his actions to be—nervous? You wouldn’t be sure.

“Why?”

A shrug, half hearted, “I heard stuff on you,” and now your interest sat piqued, “They say you’re as good as me when it comes down to getting shit done,” a wink—you gagged internally at his words- his charm?

Not quite so.

“You’ve been snooping around since the past week? Got you that hooked?” A smirk you channeled, unsure still- suspicious more so.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he muttered—his eyes were quicker, quicker that yours, cerulean, I suppose something to do with the color of them—all too pretty to have one care about anything besides themselves.

“I’ve heard of your accomplishments beforehand, you know it—you just weren’t so important and most of the time I was trying to stay off your radar,” his face panned towards the shelf you kept full of books—“but you did interest me,”

A scoff let’s your lips, “Anything with a vagina and boobs will interest you,”

“Hey now-” and for a second he seemed offended, not that you cared, “don’t forget about the ass—and please, I sincerely accept dicks too.” And just at that you chuckled slightly—a small win he deemed it, “man-whore,” you muttered past him- closing your books and grabbing onto the notepad from before.

“Here,” you handed it over— a sudden feeling of embarrassment washing over—after all, as much of a jerk he was, Satoru Gojo sincerely was experienced and amazing at what he did.

Lips pursed, you stared as he read through the stuff- “I know it’s all too-” a hand raised to quieten you, he continued reading—quick at that too.

It took him a minute or so, to go through each of the 4 pages you’d jotted down—“Not bad,” you nodded, “not the best,” you bit your tongue.

“I uh- i know it’s a little extravagant?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “or more so, it’s not very realistic? You have steps planned out and …you know, it’s supposed to be done by humans not machines,”

Your eyes raised in understanding, you weren’t too sure, but just enough.

“Put yourself into it—you’re cool you know that?,” eyes squinted, you watched him carefully- not a word let out.

“Just a little…uptight, learn to let go,”

“how do I…?”

He grinned, “have fun figuring that out—the ideas were cool, gotta go now doll,” you blinked once, twice, and without a word he was gone—you let him. However could you even ever stop him?

And you knew well, the rumbling in your room was sure to get your father awake.

A click on the lock—you closed the window behind him—swift was the way he came about, annoying, the way he left. And yet you still stood alone in the room, pacing about with a dorkish smile.

And only five minutes after he’d left, after the daze was gone—you noticed the bouquet of jasmines on your bedside—huh.

Certainly understood the charm now—especially when your eyes focused onto your phone right before closing.

#6942619412: you’re actually cute when you’re not frowning yk? [1:05 a.m.]

You went to sleep.

~Three weeks before the Fest~

“I’d say it’s coming along amazing,” another fruit roll up popped into his mouth—the fifth packet in last three hours, you were only surprised how he wasn’t sick of them yet.

A nod you passed—“but they’re slow-”

“-because they’re people, they are bound to be slow,”

Another nod.

There was something that Satoru Gojo did help you with, and there was something you’d helped him with as well—his eyes panned onto the elaborate list of numbers he’d gathered, oh how you’d spun the man, Satoru ‘never gonna help nobody’ Gojo into your actual assistant.

“Tell me though, when will you order the booze?”

“It’s an official thing- how can you expect booze to be there?” A ridiculed laugh met you—“ever heard of sneaking shit in princess?”

Of course you had, given that Satoru Gojo snuck himself into your room almost every night, uninvited—so far as to snickering when you squeaked out lies to your father about talking to your friends.

“Shut up, there will be no beverage,” he chuckled at your formal tone, beverage, “you and I, or anyone can get expelled for that—it happened last year,”

“You’re your daddy’s only princess though,”

“And you’re not,” a deadpan from you shut him up quick—“dad’s gonna be mad if he finds it, I won’t be expelled but you might, especially given your record and everything—and yes that means your captaincy and everything too,”

A month ago, the nervousness on his face would’ve made you chuckle—giddy maybe but now it only troubled you for him—hours spent on the floor of your bedroom had opened up conversations after all.

“But you’ll save me right?”

He stared at you; you stared back, you noted the closeness.

There was no reply to be offered—but it did ruin the small moment to hear the causal, “Satoru~” from the lips of her, Mei Mei, long time family friend of his and an equatable annoyance to Satoru Gojo.

Both of your faces whipped to meet hers, yours scorned while his broke into a grin—“Oi!” He chuckled—arms spreading out to greet her, hug her.

“Y/n,” she greeted you too, a smile you passed back—part of your council members after all—“how’s the planning going?”

“Fantastic,” tight lipped you muttered—“fabulous,” she grinned, “mind if I steal Toru’ for a second?”

You mentally gagged at her—‘steal Toru for a second’—except those seconds never really were seconds, rather hours and to your utter annoyance, Gojo never add moves to counter it.

“Of course!” And just like that, gone, daily.

A sigh you let out, staring at the preparations—“why’d you let them walk over you all the time?” A deep voice met you, “Suguru?”

A short smile, a short breath of cigarettes met you—in the best way, “Good day to you too,” he grinned, patting the seat beside him, eyes stuck on his best friend and his rendezvous partner.

“You as , and what exactly do you suppose I do? Stop them?”

“He’s your assistant, ain’t he?”

“Yes but-”

“Am I seeing you finally turn into a push-over, like all the other girls when it comes to him?” All in good humor he spoke, but mostly because it was true.

You were bending your walls for a certain someone—it didn’t feel right.

“You think I shouldn’t?”

“I think you should only if this lasts after the rest as well,”

“Will it?”

A pause, a shrug, “I don’t know, ask him.”

You stared at him—“why are you two the legitimate same at advices? And equally bad?” A laugh met you—“go on, ask him—because as of now, Mei Mei seems to have done what she wanted,”

“Huh?”

A look at him and then at them, your heart sank—he was kissing her, your heart sank more, why were you so bothered by it?

A nervous chuckle you passed to Suguru, an empathetic one he did, “it’s fine,”

“Yeah.”

———

It wasn’t fine, hell it was far from fine—especially when you saw them together there on, all the time.

3 weeks, dates here and there—she was around you all the time, and him, it was infuriating in all aspects of the word.

“Who’re you going with?” Almost everyday he questioned, and you never had an answer because somehow, just something in you had made you reject every proposal—something in you supposed that you two would go together.

You were the organizers—but then, it was no rule.

And even if it was, Satoru Gojo wasn’t big on rules.

“Ready?” Suguru grinned, last minute date that you’d found—all so grateful that you stood.

A small nod with a smile you passed—“how do I look?”

“Gorgeous,” another smile, wider—eyes however, they remained stuck onto Gojo.

“It’s not about him tonight doll,”

“It’s never about him,” you mumbled—melancholy—ironic onto how the entire fest that you’d built was based off of youth and what not.

But it was about him, everything was about him- especially in the way your dress, bought just for the occasion was the same cerulean, your hair was braided just how he once mentioned liking, you were wearing the perfume he bought you for you.

Everything.

And you despised all of this everything while having nothing.

“Yo! Y/n,” you paused, Suguru did too—his smirk widening, as did Mei Mei’s, Satoru walked- sauntered over.

“Don’t you look hot?” The grin was wide, your nose scrunched in disgust, “you’re reeking of alcohol,”

He was—of course he was, right after you’d advised him not to.

“Chill, nobody’s gonna know-”

“-we have to meet my dad in 15 minutes.”

“…oh.”

“Well anyways, I see you came with Suguru? You’ve been getting close?”

Your eye twitched—so he did see it—“yeah he’s cool, and helpful, unlike you,”

A giggle, “I have a life outside of you, remember?” Your blood boiled—“of course you do, enjoy it.”

A sharp turn you made, lips bitten, unsure, uncertain—“Honestly though, if I weren’t with Mei tonight I’d actually fuck ya “

Your jaw clenched at the audacity—the other two, Suguru and Mei Mei long disappeared as you flared daggers into Satoru’s soul.

“Can you take one thing seriously? You- you bloody idiot I can’t even-” you whipped around to face him again—eyes boring into his.

Satoru, even in his drunken state knew it would last long, the lecture, a hand pulled you in very quick, a corner, secluded.

“Stop fucking shouting,” slurred his words, they lay bare.

“What do you want me to do then? You- you- I- ugh.” You paused, hard breaths let out—“you’re so fucking annoying.”

“Annoying? You’re the one screaming woman,” the small smirk that he adored annoyed you all the more so.

“Excuse you? I’m annoying?” And at that moment, you let go, “I’m annoying after you spent three weeks fucking with Mei Mei? I’m annoying after you’re the one acting irresponsible? I’m annoying after you ended up treating me like all your others girls? I’m annoying after- after you just chose to walk all over me- I’m annoy- mmph!”

Words lay interrupted quick, a rough hand reeled you in while the other held your head, the kiss was soft, passionate of one would call it, sloppy in the way his lips attached to yours, hungry.

And amusingly, unlike all things Gojo, this did not feel wrong.

But it wouldn’t help your emotions being all over the place—“what the fuck?” You asked, the moment he pulled away—“was it that bad?” An amused chuckle rolled off his lips.

“No? You can’t do this- we can’t just kiss- I-”

“-okay, then take it back,” and just like that, he pulled you in again, lips attaching once more, hands exploring each other easy, slow gasps of breath as you pushed him away this time.

“N-no you- I don’t- what? You take it back,” and almost as if his alcohol was on your mind too, you pulled him in this time—a small peck, harsh, Satoru loved it all the same.

Frustrated you pulled away, grinning his hand held your wrist—“don’t go,” he mumbled, your face contorted into the expression which screamed your annoyance.

“Don’t go? Fuck you Gojo. Fuck you and your damn ego and the audacity you have,” your breaths were shallow, the two stood so close.

“Don’t kiss me when you’re with someone else—you might be a whore but-”

“It was for you,” another mumble, quieter, “to get you jealous and I think it worked?”

A pause.

“And The alcohol?” You whispered—he loved it though, the way you prioritised the reputation above him—somehow you humanised him, “only I’ve drunk it, no one else—to…get your attention,”

“But you never drink…”

“And I never fucked Mei either, or kissed her…or anyone since you,”

“That’s supposed to make me feel special?” It did, but you were done for the day.

“I think so…?”

You blink, once, twice and instead of the third that Satoru expected a sharp slap landed on his face.

“You’re very fucking dumb,” while one hand clutched the cheek he’d been hit at, the other still held your hand, pulling you closer when he heard your choked words—eyes widening at the wetness in your eyes.

“L/n…” a sigh, “fuck I’m- fuck.” He held you close, unnatural to your relation, you let yourself be held.

————

“Sorry?”

You glared at him, the Music blared behind you loud— the both of you stood outside your father’s office, “we’ll deal with that later.”

A slight nod, Satoru was glad you even agreed to talk to him, Satoru was glad you even looked at him—Satoru was simply glad you were standing beside him.

A knock, two more, you walked inside—Satoru, as advised by you stood outside—your father would know of course, instantly.

The room seemed a breath of freshness as you walked, away from the stench that Satoru held, “where’s Gojo?” You were prepared for the question.

“Do you like the fest?” You father was prepared for the dodge—he hummed, “you both did good together, as I supposed,” you hummed.

“He won’t be coming?”

“He’s busy,” you lied through your teeth, “some kids snuck in alcohol, he’s dealing with it,” you were sure you caught your father’s smirk—“that would be highly…inappropriate,”

You bit the inside of your cheek, “of course, we’ll see to it that they’re punished well,”

Your father hummed again, “having a good time?”

“Wonderful,” your father grinned, “well, you can go then but…maybe not today but I do hope meet your assistant soon after, kind of tired of seeing him sneak in through the windows,”

“Dad?!”

“What? You’re grown up and I’ve seen the potential and I kind of think opposites do attract, and you proved me right so,”

Idiots, all around you.

All of this work is entirely original and my own—please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

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euphoricfilter · 2 years

Text

Helping Hands || Min Yoongi

Pairing: Caretaker! Yoongi x Kindergarten teacher! Reader

Genre: Fluff || Smut || Strangers to lovers || Non-idol AU

Summary: Yoongi always had a knack for fixing things, and with producing getting him nowhere, he ends up working for the school his long-time friend Seokjin, teaches at. With his new job, he meets you, and although your first encounter hadn’t been the best; at least not in Yoongi’s eyes, he could have never guessed how your relationship would bloom. And Yoongi gets to show you his hands can do more than fix your faulty heating.

Word Count: 13.3k

Tags/ Warnings: fluffy, smut in the forms of: oral (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, protected sex (because that’s cool), they hold hands while they fuck, boobie play, squirting, boyfriends taekook, namjoon is a bit of an ick.

Notes: this idea was derived from a tiktok, but the original creator has deleted the video :’( but the idea of someone having a crush on you and helping fix up your classroom was too endearing to pass! when i thought about writing this i didn’t think it would be very long, and i thought how on earth am i meant to write a decent story from this vague-ish concept but here we are 13k words of two people falling in love. considering i’ve never had a s/o i don’t think i did too bad… but maybe this is just what i want from someone i like even if the idea of becoming a teacher makes me want to hurl. if there's mistakes, no there isn't.

edit: the tiktok that inspired this fic! thank you @devilonmyshouder for finding it! my savior 🥲

<3 <3 <3

“Have you asked for her number yet?”

“What?” Yoongi releases a long sigh, head turning so his eyes can meet Seokjin’s, who had a sly smile pasted on his annoyingly handsome face. And it’s at times like these where Yoongi wonders why he still puts up with Jin’s bullshit.

“The kindergarten teacher you’ve been staring at since we sat down” Jin points out, watching you as you laugh with a few of your co-workers on the other side of the cafeteria; in perfect eyeshot from where Yoongi sits.

“No? Why would I do that?” said man asks, stabbing a piece of meat with more force than it deserved. Yoongi has to will himself to not let his eyes wander back in your direction; like hell would he give Seokjin what he wanted. Yoongi doubted he had enough patience stored up to deal with the impending teasing that his long-time friend would surely thrust upon him if he were to prove his point correct. Plus, he was nothing more than being a little intrigued by you.

“Because you clearly like her” Jin tuts.

“Do not”

“Do too. You can’t deny your little crush. I’ve seen the way you look at her” Jin exasperates, flinging his arms above his head dramatically, catching the attention of a few other teaching staff scattered across the growingly scarce cafeteria.

Yoongi cringes, eyes squinting in distaste at his friend’s flamboyant antics that seemed to always garner the eyes of everyone around him. But Yoongi supposes with Jin’s face, it shouldn’t come as a surprise the attention always seemed to be on him, even if he was acting somewhat civilised. Yoongi had never thought of Jin as more than a friend, even if he did swing both ways; but, he could see why Jin’s face had such an appeal, even Aphrodite would have a run for her money if Jin were to rock up in those times, stealing the attention all for himself with his aggravatingly perfect face.

“It’s not a crush. This isn’t high school Hyung” Yoongi grunts, shoving his lunchbox back into his bag. Uncaring as he squashes a banana, already a little too overripe for his liking anyways.

You’d have to pay him millions before he dared touch the cafeteria food, in no way, shape or form would he risk growing a third arm from the slop they served. It’s offensive they had the gall to call it food, let alone serve it to the poor children. And he swears he saw one of the chefs spit in the pasta once, he doesn’t care if it adds flavour.

Now, Yoongi didn’t like children. Not in the slightest.

Thought they were disgusting, foul little creatures that had no sense of personal hygiene or self-awareness. With their sticky hands and voices that carried across miles, everything about children made Yoongi recoil.

And that may leave you wondering why on earth is Yoongi working in a school?

Money. That’s the simple answer.

Yoongi had a knack for fixing things, he’s good with his hands (interpret that how you will). And he really needed the money. His little ‘side hustle’ of producing only made him so much money, and as inflation increased, so did Yoongi’s bills, and slowly he had started finding it a little harder to pay bills and food for not only him but Holly; his cute little dog that he refused to believe wasn’t a puppy any longer. Jin had argued that Yoongi spoiled his dog, buying premium food and overpriced treats, but Holly only deserved the best.

Therefore, the job had to change and not his dog’s nutrition.

So, when the same Seokjin who complained about his pampered pup, had told him about the open position in the school he worked at, Yoongi was sceptical to say the least. He’d dropped out of college after a semester, taking on shoddy part-time jobs to pay for his producing equipment and clearly that had only brought him so far. So he couldn’t see any good reason to waltz back into a school.

Not only that, the thought of having to share space with tiny terrors for hours a day, 5 out of 7 days a week, the offer didn’t seem all that worth it. Until he saw the salary.

Not only was he now making 10 times more than he had been, basically teachers wages (still not enough but better than nothing), he got his own little office in the far end of campus, so he wouldn’t have to interact with any sticky babies and loud-mouthed teens unless absolutely necessary.

With his shiny new office, secluded from the crowd of teachers that gathered at lunch, Yoongi had zero intentions of sitting in the crusty cafeteria; even if his Jin Hyung had begged him for the first two weeks of his new job, to come and sit with him and his other teacher friends. He’d never enjoyed everyone gathering in one place to eat, crowds of people sounding more like squawking birds than hushed chatter that always ended up in arguments.

That was until Yoongi had met you. And suddenly the cafeteria seemed like the only place he wanted to be.

Pretty you who looked like a goddess among humans. Even with the splodges of paint staining your dress, and snotty babies clinging to you like nothing Yoongi had ever seen.

Yoongi had only been working at the school for a month, the start of the school year rolling by quicker than he had initially anticipated. And before he knew it, two weeks had passed by; and that second week on the jobs was when he had first ‘met’ you.

‘Met’ was generous. It was more a brief encounter where Yoongi couldn’t get the words off his tongue quick enough and had been left dumbstruck. Worried he had scared you off with how rude he must have been. You’d strutted out of your classroom, a model among the little children waddling behind you like little ducklings would their mother, hot on your tail as you led them to the bathrooms.

Yoongi had been fixing one of the fan units in the hallway, and you’d politely smiled up at him, making sure none of the children would knock the ladder Yoongi had been stood on, worried their little bodies would bulldoze into the wonky frame and Yoongi would be sent flying. And although that would make a memorable first impression, Yoongi didn’t want to be rushed to hospital with a concussion and his pride bruised.

‘Good morning’

Two simple words and Yoongi felt as if his heart would implode; he felt silly, coughing, and then only managing a curt nod as a reply, words sticky on his tongue like taffy. Clogging his throat as he holds his breath momentarily.

You see, Yoongi was prone to worrying, anxiety always laying under his skin like an itch that he could never get rid of, irritating but part of his life whether he liked it or not. And that night he’d laid awake, worried he hadn’t made a good first impression, scaring you away when he hadn’t even gotten the chance to learn your name.

And sure, he could have asked Jin, but that man had enough blackmail material already; he didn’t need to know about Yoongi’s budding interest in the pretty kindergarten teacher. If he hadn’t embarrassed himself enough then Seokjin surely would.

To Yoongi’s surprise you hadn’t seemed too offended by his reply, or lack thereof, as a week later you’d greeted him during lunch; even going as far to hold the door open for him as he languidly wandered into the cafeteria, in search of Seokjin.

This time Yoongi felt a little more prepared, muttering a short ‘thanks’, small smile stretching onto his lips as he points it in your direction. He doesn’t wait for your reply, legs already pulling him out of what could be another embarrassing encounter, a little disheartened that the day he finally decided to eat with the rest of the staff (secretly hoping to see you), your encounter had been so brief.

Yoongi’s easy smile however, remained throughout the course of lunch, heart fluttering like little butterfly wings locked in the cage of his chest; and if Seokjin noticed his friend’s flushed cheeks he chose not to say anything.

The caretaker thought he was sly with his little crush, never mentioning you to Jin, only stealing short glimpses of you from across the cafeteria, that short half an hour a day enough to recharge his motivation to continue this job. And he has the gall to be surprised when Seokjin finally decides to bring it up.

“Might want to hurry up, Jungkookie might beat you to it” Jin calls out, and if Yoongi hadn’t seen a few kids running around the area, he would have flipped off the elder. But Yoongi does nothing more than wave him off, and he may have been worried if he didn’t know Jungkook was already seeing someone.

That someone being Kim Taehyung, the high school art teacher, who occasionally sat at their table at lunch. Most of his time hauled up in the art rooms where students were welcome to work during the lunch hour.

Yoongi wasn’t one to stereotype but Kim Taehyung was the very definition of eccentric art teacher. Style a little unusual, paintings so abstract Yoongi felt like he was on acid while trying to decipher the meaning.

He had seen how Jungkook looked at Taehyung, the little galaxies that shone in his eyes when he looked at his love, where each star represented one thing that Jungkook adored about his boyfriend, his gentle gaze enough to show the absolute adoration they held for one another.

Yoongi had complained, telling them to get a room on more than one occasion when they’d decided to lick into each other’s mouths during afterschool dinners. But truly he was happy they had something so precious, a love like a warm hug, infinite trust between the two of them; something that Yoongi secretly yearned for.

More often than not Yoongi felt a little misunderstood. He never meant to come off as cold or disinterested, he liked the silent company of a person as much as he enjoyed his time alone, you didn’t have to always be talking; silent comfort of another person enough for him.

Yoongi didn’t want to come off as rude, he just didn’t know what to say sometimes, happier to prove his love with acts of service than empty words that even he doesn’t know the meaning of. He doesn’t want to come off as unapproachable, but when you’re tired from work and lacking the energy to act like a ray of sunshine, much like the physical education teacher, Hoseok, Yoongi could only wallow in his own self-pity some nights. Wondering why only a select few seemed to enjoy his company, or why so many romantic relationships have been washed down the drain.

As the first semester of school progressed, the weather had started to get colder, autumn slinking by before anyone could comprehend the unusually warm summer.

Kids starting to layer uniform, and teachers turning to the heaters to defrost their fingers as they arrive early, grass still dewy with air that nips at your skin like little needles.

Yoongi jolts up from his seat at the gentle knock of his office door, his feet flying off the desk from where he’d been resting them; worried that it was his boss coming for his usual weekly check-up.

However, Yoongi was pleasantly surprised to find you stood in his doorway; soft-looking sweater cocooning you in its warmth, nose tinted red from the frosty morning air, tips of your fingers barely peeking out from where you try to warm them up from the confines of your sleeves. And it takes all Yoongi’s will, not to tell you he had more ways than one he would love to heat you up (though he supposes he should take you out on a date before that).

Yoongi thinks you must have been sent from the sky, pretty, even in the dim morning sunlight, kissing your skin like Yoongi would if you would let him.

“Good morning” you smile, nose twitching at the strong scent of coffee that permeates the air of Yoongi’s office.

“Morning. Can I help you?” Yoongi asks, leg bouncing up and down anxiously. He has no time to curse himself for how blunt he must have come off, tone anything but inviting, before you’re opening your mouth to answer him.

“Yes actually. The heater in my classroom isn’t working”

Yoongi nods, pushing himself from his seat, ignoring the piping hot coffee he was moments away from drinking as he picks up his little toolbox that sat beside his desk.

“Lead the way” he motions out of the room, not daring to make eye-contact with you; worried he were to drown in the depths of your eyes, calling him in like a siren would with song.

He watches your back as you walk him to your classroom, fingers itching to hold your hands, help you warm them up as the stupid heater in your classroom couldn’t do its job properly.

Yoongi didn’t exactly know what he expected your classroom to look like, never working up the courage to peek inside and take a look into such a large part of your life.

The flurry of colours was expected, paintings from what he assumes to be your classes over the years hung on the wall, with paints and pens stacked on short shelving by each wall of the room.

Your desk sits at the front of the room, little trinkets lining the edges, papers covering the surface like a blanket. And Yoongi has to stop the smile from pulling at his face from how disordered you are; just like him. And he can somewhat appreciate the beauty in the mess of your classroom, it showed it was loved, enjoyed by more than just the small group of children that spent nearly every hour in here every day, loved by you who clearly spent time lining the walls with letters and drawings all addressed to you, carefully printed and cut letters of the alphabet climbing the walls like vines and fairy lights hung like tree snakes lounging on a branch.

“This one over here” you point to the heaters under the window, and Yoongi cringes at the cool air that caresses his cheeks as he stalks the length of your classroom. Nipping his cheeks like little jaws trying to pull apart his skin.

As he kneels down, pulling his glasses from the front pocket of his hoodie, he takes a closer look at the pipes connected to the main framing of the heater. Yoongi tries not to pay attention to you as you shuffle through the mountain of papers on your desk, he tries not to focus on the way you bite your lip; the little devil that rest on his shoulder whispering for him to just kiss you.

Yoongi distracts himself with your heater, fingers a little shakier than usual as you wander around the room, picking up pots of paints off the shelves, brushes stored in separate drawers and laying them all on the little tables, perfect for the little toddlers you taught. Chairs so small they must have been the first bear’s that goldilocks had thought were too uncomfortable to sit on, they sure looked it; no amount of colour enough to mask the hard plastic they were made of.

Yoongi frowns when he finds the problem with your heater, somehow a bolt had gotten loose; he can only assume one of the children had fiddled with it. Little fingers always having to play with something, another thing he hated about kids. If it’s not meant to be touched, then don’t touch it.

He pulls a spanner out of his toolbox, fingers skimming over a screwdriver. He looks over at shelving unit by the heater, screws glimmering in the slowly growing sunlight that climbs its way over the top of the neighbouring school building.

And that same little devil on his shoulder whispers something a little naughty, something Yoongi knows he shouldn’t do. And maybe Yoongi was a little bit of a hypocrite, after just saying kids shouldn’t touch everything, but the screws looked so shiny, so inviting, a little accident that means he may get an extra half hour with you.

He peers over at you, sat at your desk, typing something on your laptop. And decides that what’s the worst that could happen? He quickly tightens the loose bolt to your faulty heater, turning the knob on the side just in case before he scoots his way over to the shelf that had been holding the paints you now had on the table.

He licks his lips, sucking in a sharp breath before he unscrews a few nails. Silently praying the shelf can hold up until he leaves the room.

You stay none the wiser, typing away on some blank document from what Yoongi can make out. He tucks his glasses back into the front pocket of his hoodie, dusting off the imaginary dust that clung to the knees of his jeans before he’s clearing his throat to catch your attention. You startle, eyes wide when they meet Yoongi’s, who thinks you look a little like a puppy caught doing something they were told not to.

He stifles his laugh, coving it with a cough, “Your heater should be working, I turned it up a little so the room should heat up quicker” he explains, motioning towards the offending object. Your shelves staring at him, and Yoongi worries you can see the guilt swimming in his eyes.

You nod, pushing yourself from your seat, you bow a little in thanks, “You’re the best” you grin, and Yoongi can feel his heartrate pick up; cheeks dusted in rosy red.

You were so pretty.

+ + +

Yoongi waits all day, ears perking up when footsteps echo down his end of the hall throughout the rest of work. Begrudgingly helping a few other teachers that seemed to have had heating problems in their classrooms too; a common theme it seems.

Or, the occasional pitter patter of kids running down the hallway like a heard of wild animals during breaktimes, or teens sneaking off to the bathrooms where they liked to make out, or a few other things if their dishevelled uniform meant anything as Yoongi wandered around for his afternoon walk.

He tries to spot you at lunch, his mood only souring when you never walk into the cafeteria, your melodic laughter not gracing the usual grating sound of stressed teaching staff, that all seemed to have a passion for complaining about their jobs.

Jin had tried to cheer him up, offering to share his homemade lunch just to get even a hint of a smile out of Yoongi, and usually the caretaker would love to bless his tastebuds with actual decent food; but it seemed nothing, but your pretty smile would suffice to sate his grumpy mood.

The minutes before the home-time bell slowly creep up on Yoongi, and on most days he would be ecstatic that he could finally escape this hellhole. He never understood why teachers would willingly return to the place that is designed to fuck over students; especially when the pay isn’t all that great. And most of them seemed to despise their jobs anyways.

Even after the bell rings, startling Yoongi from his own little reverie, he remains sat at his desk; a little quiver of hope still left inside of him that you would be stood in the doorway of his office once more.

He thinks it must be a daydream when you show up, unable to properly comprehend that you were once again stood before him. That would be the second time in one day.

He isn’t at all surprised when you give him a sheepish smile, “Do you have any spare screws? It seems my shelving has broken”

And a small flame of guilt licks at Yoongi’s heart and mind, but the pretty smile that stretches onto your lips when Yoongi only lets out a little laugh, picking up his little toolbox, is enough to expel any of his worries.

He once again gets to stare at your back as you walk back towards your classroom, pretty sweater still veiling your body; and Yoongi licks his lips at what you could be hiding underneath the layers you wear.

A blink of an image flashing behind his eyes of you sprawled across the sheets of his bed, his head tucked in-between your thighs. He knew he’d get addicted to your taste, surely with such a sweet voice, all of you must be just the same. Your arousal thick like nectar on his tongue as he pushes you over the edge to your own pleasure.

“Mr. Min?” you wave a hand in-front of his face.

Yoongi blinks, “Sorry?” he coughs, heat creeping up his neck, pinching the tips of his ears.

You point towards the mess of your bookshelf, paint pots and art supplies scattered across the floor from where the shelf had caved in on itself. A mound of mess that you would now have to tackle once Yoongi acts as your saviour; a dark knight that had secretly put you in this messy situation.

“I was putting the paint pots away when it sorta of just… collapsed”

Yoongi lets out a grunt of understanding, that same guilt from earlier tickling up his spine as he looks over the huge mess you’ll have to clear up once he fixes your shelving. He shouldn’t have taken those few screws that morning and should have just worked up the courage to ask you out instead of making your day harder. But he supposes what is done is done and now he must fix his selfish doings.

You remain sat at your desk, finger scrolling through your phone as Yoongi rummages through his little box of screws.

His fingers dip into the pocket of his jeans, shiny steel nails pricking the tips of his fingers.

“Do you need any help?” You startle the caretaker, worried smile on your face as Yoongi picks up a few of the fallen shelves.

“No, it’s alright” he waves you off.

“Would you like something to drink then?” you ask.

“Black coffee is fine, thanks” he shoots you a quick smile, gums on show.

Yoongi doesn’t notice the bristly heat that burns the soft skin of your cheeks as you wander towards a cabinet in the back of your classroom. Rummaging for the granulated coffee that a few of your co-workers stored by your kettle. Not your first beverage of choice but a few of your friends took advantage of your little drink station.

As the kettle boils your water, Yoongi can see you intently watching him from the corner of his eye; and he feels his palms get clammy from your attention set so closely on him. He would have compared your eyes to those of a hawk if you hadn’t been so utterly soft; tempting Yoongi to wrap you up in his pocket and dote on you.

“How did you get so good at this?” you wonder aloud, awe evident on your face as Yoongi easily slides a shelf back into place.

Yoongi pauses, “Honestly I’m not sure. Guess I’m just good with my hands”

Your tongue peeks out to wet your lips at that; body jumping when the little click of the kettle finishing boiling. You whip back around to finish Yoongi’s drink, said man finding it hard to stop a little smirk from tugging at his lips at your flushed cheeks, pretty even painted in red.

You place a rounded pink mug on the windowsill by where Yoongi is working, and he mutters a quick thanks before he’s focusing back on holding the panel of wood back into the right place, silver nail balanced between his lips.

“I never got your name” Yoongi says when you take a seat at one of the student’s tables, warm mug of hot chocolate heating your cold hands up.

“Y/n” you tell him, “And you are?” you ask, only knowing of him by his surname.

“Yoongi” he tells you, pushing himself up with the help of your now sturdy shelf.

You push yourself up from the desk, placing your cup of drink down before you start picking up the scattered art supplies. Yoongi follows, tucking his screwdriver into the back pocket of his jeans as he picks up the paint pots that brought him back into your room. The vibrant colours glaring at him; a reminder of his sins.

“You don’t have to, Yoongi” you tell him, but said handyman ignores you; brain replaying how nice his name sounded when it came from your lips, dipped in sweet honey, addictive in the way that makes Yoongi want to beg you to say it one more time. Something about your voice enchanting, pulling him closer like a snake charmer does a snake with its pipe.

Instead, he brushes you off, “I’ve stayed this late, what more is a few minutes?”

Your nose scrunches at that, “Sorry about that”

+ + +

“Have you asked for her number yet?” Seokjin asks.

“What?” Yoongi feels a sense of déjà vu as he sits in the corner of the cafeteria, you sat at another table with a few other teachers. Though today you seem more focused on your lunch than any of the baseless chatter the others on your table seem to be immersed in.

“You stayed after school with her, had dinner together after that and you still haven’t asked for her number?” Jin gawks.

“No?”

“Min Yoongi” Jungkook shakes his head, “Ask the poor woman on a date or something”

“What if she was just being polite?” he asks the youngest, chewing at the skin of his bottom lip.

“She must be interested; she went out for dinner with you after you’d fucked up her shelves”

Yoongi’s head snaps in your direction, worried you'd somehow heard Jungkook, “She doesn’t know that, keep it down”

Jungkook snickers, “Seriously, ask her out. Otherwise, someone else might” he nods in the direction of your table, a stupidly handsome male laying his hands on your shoulders. Green jealousy bubbling inside of Yoongi as he just watches.

You turn to look up at him with a smile, grateful as he places a bag on the table in-front of you.

Yoongi narrows his eyes, “Who the fuck is he?” he tuts.

“Kim Namjoon, works in the high school”

“Cute dimples” Taehyung pulls out a spare chair beside Jungkook, leaning over to lay a wet kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek.

Yoongi grunts dramatically pushing himself from his seat. His hands slam onto the table, “You guys are going out tonight, right?” he turns towards Jin who only nods, confusion evident on his face.

Yoongi storms over towards the table you’re sat at, and as he draws closer, he can only wonder where this burst of confidence came from; ignition slowly burning to nothing but warm embers as he pushes one foot in-front of the other. But when he makes eye contact with slimy looking Namjoon, a cursed smile being shone his way Yoongi’s anxiety seems to be the least of his worries.

“Y/n” he calls you, endeared by your wide eyes that flit to meet his own, happiness enveloping your eyes as you look up at him.

“Yes?” you stand when Yoongi makes it to your side, still having to stare up at him from beneath the veil of your eyelashes, ones that Yoongi finds very pretty.

“We’re going out for dinner tonight” he throws a thumb over his shoulder towards his table of friends, Taehyung waves, boxy smile an attempt to placate your worries, “And I was wondering if you wanted to… wanted to come with us?”

Yoongi knows you must be able to see the unease that swims in his eyes, and he worries that maybe he looks a little desperate, stalking towards your table unannounced; but with your small group of co-workers all staring at him like he’d grown a second head, he’s seconds away from scuttling out the cafeteria.

“That would be lovely, Yoongi” you smile.

“I’ll meet you at the gate after school?” he asks, eyes brightening in hope. You nod and Yoongi has to bite his lip to stop the huge smile that threatens to pull at his cheeks.

+ + +

“I swear he isn’t always like this” Yoongi shakes his head, turning his attention to look at you.

“I think it’s amusing” you turn towards your new friend, wincing when Seokjin, who had previously been dancing on a chair, falls onto a table. Both your eyes snap towards the eldest of the group, trying to gauge if he was okay or needed immediate medical attention.

Yoongi supposes the alcohol coursing through Seokjin’s veins was enough to help him stagger to his feet like he hadn’t just body slammed into a table, and Jungkook has to wave off a worried bar tender who had already pulled his phone from his pocket, moments away from calling for an ambulance.

Taehyung scans Jin’s body, trying to figure out if he had a concussion or not. And Jungkook tries to ask his hyung if he remembers who he is.

“This isn’t what I imagined dinner to be” you turn back to Yoongi who elegantly brings his glass of whisky to his lips, somehow looking like royalty in such a grimy bar, tucked away in an alleyway.

He hums, letting his taste buds soak in the refined flavour of the liquor before he answers you, “Me neither. Usually, we go to that shitty Italian place down the street”

“I like it there!” you exasperate, “Their dessert is really good”

“I don’t like dessert”

“What?” you breathe, “You devil, how could you not like dessert?”

Yoongi snorts, a little unattractive on his part but he couldn’t help himself, “Why stuff yourself more when you’ve just had a meal?” (Maybe you liked to be stuffed, but you thought it was a bit too soon for that conversation)

“Because you always have a second stomach for dessert” you tell him instead, “Honestly I got that vibe from you”

“What vibe?”

“Dessert hating vibes, I knew the moment you told me you liked black coffee, with no milk, no sugar that you were a dessert hater” you explain, dramatic shake to your head.

“I’m not a dessert hater, doll. I just have priorities”

“Really bad ones. I refuse to accept any dessert slander”

Yoongi opens his mouth, eyes widening a little in shock when you place a finger over his lips, “Uh uh” you shake your head.

Yoongi laughs at that, tongue poking out from between his lips to lick your finger. You recoil, nose scrunching at Yoongi who only laughs. (He had always preferred his own fingers in other people’s mouths, never really enjoying them in his own).

“Okay, lovers, we’re going home” Jungkook pushes between yours and Yoongi’s seats, “Jin’s about to pass out and I’m moments away from leaving him on the streets”

Both you and Yoongi turn to look over at Taehyung who holds up a very wobbly Seokjin, and you nod in understanding. But Yoongi feels his heart sink at the thought of having to go home already, he had started to enjoy your company, slowly peeling back each layer of your very being.

“I’ll walk you home” Yoongi places a hand on your shoulder when the five of you make it out of the bar. You nod, giving Jungkook a quick hug before he helps Taehyung lug their friend home.

You and Yoongi walk in silence, nothing uncomfortable; just the two of you basking in the company of one another.

Yoongi startles a little when you take a sudden hold of his wrist, “Yoongi, let’s go there” you pull him towards the familiar, drab Italian restaurant that he’s spent way too many weekends drinking in.

The lights at the front blink, bare wires hanging on for dear life to keep the neon lights hung about the windows of the restaurant. The fluorescent light momentarily blind the both of you as you wander inside.

Yoongi makes no fuss as you pull him into a booth by the window, encouraging you even, by handing you a menu. You flip it open, “My treat” you say, ignoring Yoongi as he opens his mouth to argue.

“You can treat me, next time”

Next time.

You wanted to see Yoongi again. Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through him, making him that little more delusional that you could feel the same about him as he does you.

“Fine” he drawls, motioning for a waiter to come to the table when you drop the menu with a little smile.

“Did you really have to order only dessert?”

“I got you black coffee as well” you argue, “if you don’t like them, then I’ll eat it”

Yoongi tuts, watching as the waiter brings over your tray of treats. More sugar than the mad hatter had at his tea party balanced on one rusting metal tray.

You wiggle happily in your seat, and Yoongi turns his head to look out the window, coving the blush that coats the skin of his cheeks in dusty red; and Yoongi wonders if this is what falling in love feels like, a new addiction worming its way into his heart. And Yoongi worries he won’t be able to stop himself, fingers itching to feel this again even if it’s only one more time.

“I got you tiramisu, because it tastes like coffee” you push the small plate towards him, eyes wide with wonder as Yoongi take a fork from one of the napkins, everything he does fascinating you as he holds himself with the grace and dignity a lot of people aspire for.

He awkwardly takes a forkful of cake, worried you were scrutinizing him for not eating this right. What if he hated it? And you got offended? What if you were turned off because he didn’t like the same foods as you? Is it a red flag to not like sweet things? God, Yoongi would shovel this cake into his mouth if it meant you’d give him a smile.

Yoongi thinks you must be able to read his mind, “You don’t have to like it” you remind him, picking up your own fork as you pull a plate towards your body, excitement of a child in your eyes.

+ + +

“What are you doing for Christmas?” you ask, turning towards Yoongi who dips his paintbrush into the can.

“Probably spend it with my dog” he shrugs, rubbing his gloved hands across his sweats, hoping to warm them up a little.

“You have a dog?” you gape, “Why didn’t you tell me?” you sulk.

Yoongi had told you he’d noticed the paint on your heaters chipping, a potential fire hazard (or so he claims), and that he would repaint them for you with heat safe paint. You’d nodded, offering to help him during the weekend, He’d shrugged, telling you it was your choice, that the room would be cold as you couldn’t paint on scorching hot metal, but you’d only giggled, telling him to pass his phone so you could add his number, and that you’d see him tomorrow. And Yoongi had felt dizzy when you’d brushed him off, determined to meet him that weekend and help.

Now he finds himself with you, both bundled up in coats, and woolly gloves to keep the both of you warm as you paint the morning away. The morning birds haven finished their songs for the day, probably ready to eat as lunch neared, afternoon sun squeezing minimal heat into the classroom through the windows.

“Do you have any plans?” he asks, foot tapping anxiously on the floor.

You shake your head, “I usually visit my parents, but they said they’re sick of white Christmases. So, my dad whisked them off to some tropical island until the end of February when it gets a little warmer”

“You didn’t want to go?”

“It’s not that, I just have a job, and I wouldn’t be able to stay all that long with work chasing me during the holidays”

Yoongi hums, “Want to spend it together?”

Your eyes widen, turning towards Yoongi who continues to paint, acting as if he hadn’t just offered to spend Christmas with you.

“Huh?” you breathe, “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude”

“On what? Me and my dog? Jin Hyung usually stops by, but I think he secretly has a girlfriend because for the last two years he drops off some cookies and then rushes out the door, without his obligatory kisses”

“What about Jungkook and Taehyung?”

“They spend the holidays together, probably fucking. They can’t keep their hands to themselves” you giggle at that.

“They’re cute” you tell him, happy smile pulling onto your face as you recall the ‘dinner’ you’d had together a few weeks ago. And how much Jungkook and Taehyung seemed to be drawn to one another; you think they must the definition of love. Just pure, unadulterated love between the two of them. Two little lovebirds who are mates for the rest of their lives, always drawn to one another.

Jin had showed up to your classroom with a box of chocolates to apologize on the following Monday, babbling how unprofessional the whole encounter was. You’d waved him off, inviting him for coffee or tea during break times if he ever needed a breather from the swarm of students that always seem to gather outside his office door. All hoping to spend a little more time with the good-looking language teacher, innocent crushes pushing them to work hard in class.

He’d thanked you. Apologizing once more before he’d scuttled away with a sheepish smile plastered on his face. Late for a meeting he had with the head of department, and he had already missed the meeting the month prior.

“They’re cute when they’re not sucking each other’s tongues” Yoongi grunts, nudging the sleeve of your jacket so it wouldn’t fall into the pan of paint, worried it wouldn’t wash out from your sleeves.

“Let them be in love” you whine, wiggling a little in place, “Could you imagine loving someone like they do?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “Never been in love”

“Really?”

“I mean I dated in high school but nothing close to love” Yoongi turns towards you, “What about you?”

Your cheeks flush, “I’ve never uhh—I’ve never dated. Like at all”

Yoongi blinks, “Not even that smarmy dick?”

“Who?”

“Kim Namjoon or whatever his name is?”

Your tongue wets your lips, and then your eyes widen, “God no” you let out a long breath, “He asked me out last year and I said no. Why on earth would a high school literature teacher ask me out?”

“Because you’re pretty?” Yoongi replies, avoiding eye contact by mixing the paint a little.

“That’s shallow of him” you scoff, “He’s a narcissist anyways, I would never be as good looking as he believes himself to be” you tell Yoongi, and the caretaker wants to bash his head against the table behind him with how oblivious you are.

“That’s shitty” Yoongi agrees, though he feels his heart constrict. Didn’t you know how perfect you are?

“You know he told me I should have studied for a more sophisticated profession, and asked why I wanted to work with kids below the age of 15” you frown, “I thought that was a little mean, so I told him to go fuck himself”

Yoongi laughs at that, “I always see him near your table at lunch”

You hum, nodding—“He’s been trying to win me over with cakes and cookies, I only smile so I get free stuff out of him”

“So, you’re leading him on?”

You drop your brush into the paint pan, “Is that what I’m doing? That’s really shitty” you look at Yoongi with guilty eyes.

“I guess if he’s a bad man then it’s a little more forgivable” he gently places his paintbrush beside your own, “But he doesn’t deserve you if he’s an asshole”

You nod at that, small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

+ + +

“Please Yoongi” you tug on the sleeve of his jacket, trying to veer him towards the ice rink.

He only grunts, “I don’t skate”

“But it’s Christmas” your shoulders fall, and Yoongi feels as though he just kicked a puppy with your sad pout.

“Fine” he takes your hand, pulling you towards the old woman at the rental booth.

Yoongi can’t help the laugh that bubbles up his throat, having just watched you fall onto your bottom only minutes after getting onto the rink.

“Hey!” you point an accusing finger at him, “It’s not funny”

“Just a little, darling” he tries hard to stifle his laugh, but fails miserably when you try to push yourself to stand; stood more like a new-born doe who hadn’t grasp the concept of walking yet.

Yoongi misses the devious smile on your face when he bends down to help you stand, your cheeks warming at the pretty smile the caretaker had, warm like a spring afternoon.

“When you offered for us to go skating, I thought you’d be good at it”

You cross your arms over your chest, instantly regretting the sudden action as you wobble. You let out something akin to a squeak when Yoongi takes a hold of your arms, helping stabilise you as your stomach tenses.

“My little deer” he laughs, hands skimming down the length of your arms to hold your hands.

You feel heat creep up your neck, burning the tips of your ears; feeling some relief knowing that your nose and ears were already red from the cold, so you only bite your lip, trying not to let your shuddering breath become known to Yoongi.

He, however, sees your eyes glaze over, something he hadn’t seen from you yet. And it only feeds into his little fantasy of you sprawled out across the sheets of his bed, his name clinging to your tongue, dripping like sweet honey as you beg for more. More of what? He has yet to decide. He’s imagined eating you out, sure that you’d recoil, shy, when he tries to go down on you. He wonders what you’d look like, bouncing prettily on his cock, begging for him to help you, legs shaking as he pounds into you, if your moans would be as soft as your voice, if you’d try to cover your mouth with your hands.

Yoongi coughs, bringing his attention back to you who wobbles, another attempt to skate towards him on your own. This time, Yoongi is ready when you stagger forwards, holding onto your waist as you tumble into his chest.

“Sorry” you whisper, “I don’t think I’m very good at this”

Yoongi laughs, “Nothing a little practice can’t fix”

+ + +

“Merry Christmas Yoongi” you beam, handing him the neatly wrapped gift, little cats printed on the paper.

“Merry Christmas” he takes you hand, pulling you into his warm apartment, heat enveloping you, cleansing you from the toe biting cold of the outside world.

You startle at the wet nose that prods your bare fingers, gaze flitting towards the floor where the fluffy little dog sniffs at your clothes, a cute puff of brown.

“That’s Holly” he tells you, placing your gift underneath the small tree into the corner of the living room beside the one he had bought you.

You crouch down, scratching Holly under the chin, giggling as the excited dog circles your legs.

You wander into the living room, not so subtly peeking at Yoongi’s home. You liked it; it was cosy, and ever so Yoongi. You take a seat on one of the couches, Yoongi following suit once he’d turned the tree lights on, green like vibrant dragonflies dancing from branch to branch.

“I hope you’re okay with takeaway, I looked up how to cook Christmas dinner online, and it’s a little too advanced for me”

You smile, “Don’t tell my mother, but I’ve never been a fan of Christmas dinner”

“Perfect”

“You make music?” you gawk, “That’s so cool”

“It’s a nice side hobby I suppose” he shrugs, not delving into how deep his love for music really is; he knew that if he started, he wouldn’t know when to stop. A little too passionate about his producing than he would like to let on, the last thing he needed was for you to leave when he was enjoying your company.

“You’ll have to show me one day” you tell him, nudging his shoulder as you sit beside one another. Knees pressed snug, body heat warming one another up.

Yoongi picks up another slice of beef, placing it on your plate, “maybe” he shrugs.

“You’re very secretive” you point out.

“Private”

You hum at that, “That is a good trait. More for me to uncover”

“Yeah?” he asks, smile tugging at his lips, “What are you trying to uncover”

Yoongi doesn’t miss the as your eyes flit down his body, straying a little at the waist band of his sweats before travelling back to his lips.

“Everything” you tell him honestly, and he can see the naked emotions that swim behind your eyes; raw need.

“I suppose you should get started then” he whispers, eyes flicking between both of your own.

“Right now?”

Yoongi nods, turning his body to face you; his hand coming to cup your cheek. You close your eyes, low moan reverberating up your throat as Yoongi presses his lips gently against your own. And as cliché as it sounds, Yoongi thinks he hears fireworks somewhere in the distance, lips tingling with want as he feels the warmth of you pressed along the length of his body.

Yoongi drinks in every little sound you make, spurring him to deepen kiss, his tongue flicking to part your own. As you both pull away, Yoongi leans in for a quick peck to your lips before he falls back into his seat.

“I guess I also have a lot to uncover, huh?” he whispers, fingers tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I really like you Y/n” he admits, hands clammy as he gauges your reaction.

“I really like you too” you tell him, and Yoongi smiles at the red hue that coats your cheeks; he can only imagine his match your own.

+ + +

“We should totally go on a double date” Taehyung grins, arm wrapped around Jungkook’s shoulder.

“We’re not dating though” Yoongi grunts, leaning back in his seat. His gaze flits over towards your table of co-workers, you more focused on something on your phone than what they were gossiping about.

“You went on a date, spent Christmas and New Year together, kissed, confessed and you’re not dating?” Jin gawks, astonished by what he was hearing.

Yoongi had asked after your little Christmas escapade, if you wanted to spend New Year together as well. He took you out for lunch, and then the two of you milled around a little market on the outskirts of the city. He’d met a few of your students, their happy smiles when they spotted you, warming Yoongi’s heart. And God forbid he didn’t hate children as much as he used to. (They could be cute sometimes, but only when it comes to you.) As well as conversing with a few parents, more than a few commenting on how cute you and Yoongi were together.

Nothing much more than kissing had happened, and you’d found the excuse for a few more kisses when you’d spotted little brushes of mistletoe hanging from the market huts, left over from the Christmas market that plagued the streets only weeks prior. And who was Yoongi to deny tradition?

The two of you had sat on a hill on New Year’s Day, Yoongi with his coffee, and you with piping hot, hot chocolate, both a little hung over from your little festivities the night prior (with a kiss when the clock hands struck midnight), and the both of you talked about the future. Your individual futures, and the future you want to have together.

You’d both agreed to take it slow, neither of you needed to rush into this relationship. You both knew you liked each other, that much had been established, and there was a mutual understanding that you had all the time in the world to learn more about each other before defining your relationship. You both understood what you had was exclusive, but neither of you felt labels were necessary. The unnecessary shadow that would loom over your shoulders, creeping up on you until your relationship evidently crumbles under the pressure of societal labels and standards of what a ‘good’ relationship is.

“So what?” Yoongi turns towards Jin, “We’re taking it slow”

“Slow my ass, you both act like you’ve been in a long-term relationship”

“Do not” Yoongi argues, feeling stupid that his reply had come off so juvenile.

“Yeah?” Seokjin challenges, and Yoongi knows he shouldn’t take the bait.

But he does, “Yeah”

“Whose lunchbox is that then?” he points at the prettily wrapped lunch that sat before you on the table. New shiny bento box that Yoongi had ordered online especially for you, with enough layers to make sure you would eat a nutritional lunch. With how many sweets you ate, Yoongi worried you spoiled yourself, so he took on the role of your chef; making sure you were eating healthier.

Yoongi coughs, “Mine. What are you gonna do about it?”

“Tease you” Jin laughs, pushing himself from his seat when Yoongi shoots him a hard glare. Waving at the small group before he makes his descent back to his classroom, a small group of students having filled in what was meant to be an easy lunch.

“I think you’re doing great, Hyung” Jungkook soothes, smiling over at Taehyung who nudges his side.

“Kookie is right, you don’t have to rush into these things. As long as the two of you are happy, that’s all that counts” Taehyung nods.

“Plus, Jin Hyung is definitely projecting, he’s hiding someone. I just know it” Jungkook nods, head falling onto his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Yoongi!” you call as you skip towards his lunch table, perking up at your voice.

“Yes?” he pulls out what was once Jin’s chair, pulling you to sit beside him.

“What do you think about these for Holly?” you shove your phone into his face, “I really like the blue one” you mutter.

“They’re lovely, doll” he smiles, taking your phone so the bright screen wasn’t blaring in his eyes, the images more of a blur of colours, messily mixed like paints on a pallet.

“Personally, my favourite is the purple one” you scroll down when Yoongi places the device on the table. He looks down at the little sweater you have on a website that specialises in dog clothes.

“It’s cute” Yoongi agrees.

“But Yoongs, Holly would look good in like red or something” you sigh dramatically, prominent frown pulled at your pretty lips, begging Yoongi to kiss it away.

Yoongi scrolls up, eyeing the other dog clothes they had on the website, “Why not get both? One for you and one for Holly” he shrugs, “There’s still a few weeks left of winter”

You nod, small smile now tugging at your lips and Yoongi feels somewhat accomplished. He ignores the intruding stares of his two friends sat across the table, kicking Taehyung’s shin when he opens his mouth to surely make a comment on Yoongi’s somewhat soft behaviour. Emotions on display for everyone to see.

“Okay!” you push yourself to stand, “I’m going to find my credit card” you announce and Yoongi grunts at that.

“I’ll pay” he also stands, but you push him back into his seat, shaking your head.

“No, you won’t. It’s my gift”

“Doll” Yoongi stares up at you, and he thinks he sees a crack in your resolve. He smiles when you cover his eyes with your hand.

“Don’t look at me like that” you whine, skin prickling with goosebumps when Yoongi skims his fingers down your arm, blindly seeking out your touch.

“Like what?” he asks, teasing lilt to his tone.

“Like you can tell me what to do”

“Is that so?”

You pull your hands from his eyes, frowning down at the caretaker, “I’m leaving” you tell him.

“I’ll take you out for dinner then” Yoongi calls when you turn away from the table.

“Okay!” you call over your shoulder, “text me later” you wave at him.

Yoongi turns towards Jungkook and Taehyung who have two annoying smiles plastered on their faces.

“Neither of you say a word” he points between them, “Not one”

+ + +

“Y/n!”

You startle, Yoongi using his hand to cushion your elbow before you could whack it on the edge of the table.

Both you and Yoongi turn towards where the honeyed voice came from, and Yoongi let’s out a low grunt when Namjoon saunters towards the table you’re sat at.

Yoongi had asked you out on a little coffee date, nothing too fancy, something to help the two of you wind down from another hectic week of work.

Yoongi had bought you a cake, getting the one that had little cat ears cut from sugar paper, and got himself a black coffee. You got sweet tea, and then you told him everything you’d been up to, talking of parents that had given you gifts at the start of the semester, and that you’d have to give him one of the funnier mugs for his coffee in the morning.

Everything was serene, perfect even. And Yoongi couldn’t have asked for anything more. His favourite girl by his side, with a perfect cup of coffee. Until Kim Namjoon decided to ruin his good mood.

“Namjoon” you greet, empty smile being thrown at the high school teacher.

“Fancy seeing you here” he laughs, inviting himself to your table. Taking a seat opposite Yoongi. Said man places his hand on your thigh gently, silent reassurance that he is there for you just in case this unplanned meeting goes south. And as much as you wanted to tell him to go away, you knew you would see him around work and the last thing you needed was an awkward encounter in the halls, you could feel your skin crawl at the thought of it.

“Yes, funny coincidence” you squeeze out, turning to look at Yoongi who gives you a curt nod.

“And who’s this?” Namjoon motions towards Yoongi, acting as though he was the one who had just barged into his café date. Eyes narrowing in slight distaste.

“Her boyfriend” Yoongi tells him, smug smile unmissable when Namjoon’s smile drops.

He turns to look at you, as if asking for confirmation. You nod, only deepening Namjoon’s frown. Yoongi’s fingers tighten on your thigh, and you feel a dull throb between your legs when he does, squirming a little in place, and if Yoongi notices, he doesn’t make it apparent.

“I didn’t know you two were—” he wags a finger in your general direction, “a thing” he finishes, the words leaving a bad taste on his tongue.

“Not everyone drones on about their relationships, Namjoon” you point out, finding it hard to fight off the smug smile that threatened to show. You see, Namjoon had a track record of bragging about his escapades, either it be a quick fling with a woman who worshiped the ground he walked on (his words, not yours), or short-term relationships where he would boast about every detail of his sex life. Something you had no interest in.

“If you’ll excuse us, I was enjoying my date” you motion to Yoongi beside you, a bored expression taking over his features.

“You heard her” he adds, motioning for Namjoon to leave. Translation: Fuck off.

Yoongi thinks he sees the tips of Namjoon’s ears flush red, slithering its way down his cheeks and neck, and Yoongi feels his heart swell when you lean against his shoulder; Namjoon glaring at the two of you as he stands up.

“Boyfriend, huh?” you ask when Namjoon is out of your general vicinity.

Yoongi turns to look out the window, his silent wish of you not bringing that up clearly not being heard by some higher power.

“Only if that’s okay with you” he mutters.

“Is this you asking me out?” you laugh, head falling backwards, and Yoongi turns, wanting to catch your smile.

“Y/n?” he calls, hand coming to hold your cheek as you tilt your head back down to look at him.

You hum.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

+ + +

“Okay!” Seokjin claps his hands, “News for this week. Yoongi first”

And all three pairs of eyes land on the caretaker. Now that the weather had started to warm up a little, the sun no longer shying away behind fluffy, cotton candy clouds, lunch times were spent behind the school. Away from students, and the beady eyes of other staff that had a habit of eavesdropping on everyone’s conversations. And then before you knew it, the whole faculty knew about your secrets.

Yoongi places a hand on his chin in thought, “I helped Y/n build a new desk for her classroom and put up some new blinds that she bought. Oh...” he drawls, “And she’s now my girlfriend”

Seokjin’s jaw drops, and Yoongi wants to make a snide comment, being cut out by a loud gasp from his hyung. Jungkook and Taehyung laugh from their spot opposite Yoongi, nodding their congratulations as Jin pinches the bridge of his nose.

“And you didn’t think to text me?” he mutters, mock offense lacing his tone.

“What about your partner Hyung?” Jungkook prods, not missing the wide eyes of the eldest.

“How did you know about that?” he whispers, leaning across the table.

“You were kind of obvious” Taehyung placates, wrapping his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“So? Who are they?” Yoongi prods, having waited years for his friend to finally spill the beans on this secret relationship he’d been trying to hide (and clearly failed).

“I met her in the town over, she already has a kid, but the father left. We’ve been taking it slow, but I really do like her” he admits, and Taehyung can’t help the mushy smile that takes over his features.

“On the topic of children…” Jungkook trails off, giving a look to his boyfriend, who only nods in encouragement. “We’re planning to adopt”

Yoongi’s eyes widen a little in surprise, it’s not as if the two hadn’t fiddled with the idea of adopting; he just never expected it to be so soon.

“Oh my god” Seokjin cried, “I’m going to be an uncle”

“That’s a really big decision” Yoongi nods, a small smile toying at the edge of his lips.

“It is” Taehyung agrees, “But we both have stable jobs, and a home. Neither of us plan to go anywhere anytime soon”

“What about the wedding?” Jin asks.

“A wedding can happen any time. We both know that we want to spend the rest of our lives together, so there’s no rush really” Jungkook shrugs.

“What about you Hyung? When are you getting married” Taehyung points his attention towards the caretaker.

“He only just asked me to be his girlfriend” your arms wrap around Yoongi’s neck, leaning down to press a featherlight kiss on his cheek.

Yoongi scoots over to make room for you on the bench.

“Not with your friends?” he asks, hand coming to rest on your thigh as you pull your own lunch (courtesy of Yoongi), placing it onto the table.

“Nope” you shake your head, handing him a neatly cut triangular sandwich, “Namjoon came over, so I lost my appetite” you tell him, and he hums in understanding. Muttering a short ‘bastard’ under his breath.

+ + +

Perfect didn’t seem like the right word to describe your relationship with Min Yoongi. It was beyond anything you could have ever asked for. Something that not many people had during their first relationships; trial and error finally pulling you down the path of your soulmate. However, you seemed to hit the jackpot, first try.

Before you knew it a year had flown by, memories floating by like the wind would, caressing your cheek in the morning on the way to school. Days merging into weeks and weeks into months. And even with a mush of weeks and days, Yoongi always made you feel the most special, like you were the only one he had eyes for.

Yoongi had never been the most vocal man, but you’d learnt that he loved you all as much. He would pack your lunches in cute little boxes, and on Friday’s he would slip a little note into your bag with plans for the weekend or a shopping list so you could both wander around the supermarket as soon as the home time bell rigs. He would come to your classroom after school with cold drinks in the summer and overly sweet hot chocolate in the winter.

Although he would never admit it, he really did like the tiramisu from that shitty Italian restaurant at the end of street, and he thought it was ridiculous how many dates the both of you had spent in there. He’d voiced out a concern one evening, you sprawled across his bed like a dream, with your favourite candle lit, and Holly filling the gap between your bodies; he worried he wasn’t doing enough. You had told him you really didn’t care, as long as you were together, even lounging in bed for the day made you happy. And as if to prove a point, you and Yoongi had spent the whole day in bed together, binging your favourite shows (amongst other things).

You walked around fair grounds together, shared secrets between kisses, and it was the small things that he would do for you, that reminded you that Min Yoongi really did love you. Like washing your face of an evening or picking up snacks from the convenience store because he knew you’d ran out.

You remember the evening he opened up about his music, not just a silly little hobby like he had initially told you. He told you about how cathartic it was for him to produce. He showed you notebook upon notebook of lyrics that he had written from his teens through to his adult years; a little window into the man you were dating.

You know he likes dogs more than cats; you know he adores Holly. You know he hates sweet coffee, the bitter taste on his tongue somewhat of a comfort for him. You know he liked to stay home rather than melt within a crowd of rowdy people. And if the two of you ever found yourself trapped with too many sounds and too many bodies, Yoongi would place his hand on the back of your neck, reassurance that he was still there, helping ground you from all the overflowing number of stimuli that were trying to scratch at your brain.

Min Yoongi liked to cook, liked to experiment in the kitchen and he loved it even more when he could cook for you. He liked watching your face light up when you liked something, he liked the way your nose would scrunch up in that cute way when a taste was unfamiliar or too bitter.

Yoongi liked the curtains in your apartment, thin in a way the sun would caress your skin as it woke before you. As he would lay there, fingers trailing over the naked skin of your back, loving the way you’d slowly start to become conscious of the world around you. And the smile that would stretch onto your face, unconditional love mingled with tired eyes as you woke up to the sight of sleep roughed Yoongi first thing in the morning.

Yoongi liked the winter more than he did the summer. Maybe it was because that is when he first worked up the courage to talk to you.

Yoongi liked wearing the colour black, something so simple but looked so good on him. He, however, adored when you’d wear colourful shirts, dresses that complimented the tone of your skin, and he thinks if he were to turn this into a metaphor, you were the one who finally brought colour into his monotone life. An endless cycle of loneliness that he hadn’t realised he was drowning in before he had met you.

Yoongi liked that when you had moved into his home, small parts of you leaked into his, your, living space. Canvases of unfinished paintings, and photos from your childhood. His closet was no longer half empty, overflowing with a concoction of both your clothes. Odd pieces of furniture that you hadn’t wanted to let go of now filling the gaps of his once arguably scarce apartment.

Min Yoongi loved you.

He loved everything about you.

He loved how kind you were, patient in a way that only a kindergarten teacher could be. He liked that with others you always seemed a little reserved, shy in your actions, but with him you had no qualms about what you said or how you acted. Min Yoongi loved you because you always thought of him as much as he thought of you. He would feel his heart flutter when you would leave coffee on the desk in his office or help him pick out what shirt to wear to work.

Min Yoongi loved that you were the last thing he would see before he went to sleep, with his arm slung around your waist, and he loved that from the minute he would wake up, there you were, right by his side.

Min Yoongi loved that you were the last missing puzzle piece of his life. Fitting ever so perfectly in the gap he never knew was missing.

+ + +

“Yoongi, hold on” you gasp, head falling back into the plethora of pillows he had thrown onto the bed.

‘So you’re comfy’ Yoongi had frowned. And if you could think a coherent thought maybe you would thank him. Your head rocking up into the pillow padded headboard; pleasure licking up your spine.

You feel Yoongi’s tongue flick at your clit, a mixture of his own spit and your arousal dripping down his chin like liquid honey. And Yoongi makes sure to try and save every delicious mouthful of your essence. Something so uniquely you, so sweet, something that only Yoongi gets the pleasure to taste; because he had no plans of letting you go anytime soon.

Your boyfriend prods his tongue at your entrance, your legs shaking as his thumb gently brushes over your overstimulated clit. You see, Yoongi had this game, he liked to see how long he could eat you out, and how many times he could make you cum before he fucked you senseless on his cock. Leaving your clit to throb in a mixture of want and denial, swollen from being toyed with.

“One more, baby” he takes a deep breath, wasting no time in diving his tongue into you, molten arousal coating his lips, and as much as Yoongi loved it when your thighs would clamp round his head, today he wanted you bare. Spread out prettily just for him to devour. So, he holds your thighs open, straining them as he tries to push his head as far between your thighs as physically possible, lips pulling into a grin when you thrust your hips to meet his tongue; chasing your own pleasure.

He feels your fingers thread with his hair when he pushes his tongue in a little deeper, thumb still strumming at your clit. And he wonders if he could make you cum from just playing with your clit alone. He’d made you cum just from toying with your nipples once, the picture of you, flushed face, a sheen of sweat coating both of your bodies as his teeth clamped down on your puffy nipples, red raw from his mouth, and he remembers the surprised moan you’d graced him with when you had come.

“I can’t” you moan, mouth falling open.

Yoongi grunts, pulling his face away from your cunt, his index finger sinking into your entrance.

“Yes, you can” he tells you, fingers delving, eager to find that spot which will make you see stars, groaning at the sound you let out when he sinks a second finger into your greedy cunt.

He uses his other arm to hold down your waist as you try to eagerly buck into his fingers, little whimpers tumbling from your lips, and Yoongi thinks that was his favourite sound. He had asked once to add your moans to a song, your cheeks had flushed, laughing like Yoongi had been joking. And then your boyfriend had fucked you in his home office, with your hand clamped over your mouth, a little game to see how long you could stay silent.

He was surprised how long you’d been able to keep it up, and it had become his own personal goal to make sure you moaned his name every time he played with you.

“Please, please, please” you whine breathlessly.

“Please what, baby? I can’t help you of you don’t tell me what’s wrong” he frowns, tone mocking as he slows his fingers to a gentle thrust.

“No, no, Yoongi faster please” you cry, tilting your head to look at him, and Yoongi leans up to brush the stray tears from your cheeks, sadistic smile on his face.

“Yeah?” he asks, watching as you nod; pitiful as you rock your hips to try and push his fingers deeper inside of you.

Your boyfriend leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your pouty lips, your sad frown enough for him to finally give you what you want.

He trails his lips down your body, stopping to press a gentle kiss to your nipples, tongue flicking out to toy with them as you wiggle underneath him, shuddering breath reverberating around the otherwise silent room.

“Cum one more time and then I’ll fuck you” he mutters, “Okay, baby?”

You hum, and Yoongi pushes himself off your body.

“Words” he reminds you, and you have to wrack your brain.

“Yes”

“Good girl” he pushes his head back between his legs, something comforting about being here; like Yoongi belonged, sandwiched between your thighs.

Two of his fingers strum at your clit, a breathy chuckle fanning over your sensitive cunt when he laughs as you moan. His tongue lapping up the arousal that had started to dribble from your hole.

“You’re really wet, baby”

You hum, not quite sure you heard him or not. But Yoongi laps up another string of your essence, acting more like a starved puppy than a man, but he supposes he always was a little feral around you.

“Think you can squirt for me?” he grunts, exchanging his tongue for his fingers as the wet muscle in his mouth now plays with your clit.

He suctions the sensitive pearl, teeth grazing it as he sinks three fingers into your hole. You moan into a pillow, thighs once again shaking as Yoongi thrusts his fingers into you in quick succession. He can feel your walls clench around him sporadically, tips of his fingers nudging that spongy tissue as he curls them upwards.

“Cum, baby” he grunts, wrist straining as he tries to keep a steady pace.

He feels his fingers being pushed from your hole as you squirt, his shirt soaking through with your juices. Your thighs shakes as he pushes his fingers back into your cunt, thrusting them in a couple of times before more of your arousal leaks onto the bed sheets.

“How messy” he tuts, pulling his shirt from over his head.

“Your fault” you argue, chest rising and falling, uneasy as you catch your breath.

Yoongi pushes himself up your body, arms flexing as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips; a lot slower, more passionate than those from prior in the evening.

Yoongi brushes a wet piece of hair from your face, your forehead glazed with a thin layer of sweat.

“You did so well for me” he whispers, hands trailing down the sides of your body, an attempt to ground you a little. When he sees a little more clarity in your eyes, legs not still shaking where they rest against his thighs he presses a gentle kiss to your cheeks.

“Think you can take my cock?” he asks, “We don’t have to do anything else if you don’t want to” he reminds you.

You nod, “I’m okay, I don’t know if I can cum again though”

“Guess we’ll have to check” he pushes himself to sit on his knees.

Yoongi ignores you as you eye his sweats, hard shaft hardly veiled by the grey fabric. And you think you are moments away from jumping the man. With how perfect he looked in the orange glow of the lamplight, chin shining in your arousal. It was hard to stop your pussy from leaking, and it would have been a little embarrassing just how wet you were if you didn’t know Yoongi absolutely loved when you got like this for him.

You watch as he leans across the bed, lithe fingers tugging the drawer open. Your fingers toy with the waist band of his sweats, and Yoongi lets out a breathy chuckle when you tug on them.

Your boyfriend sits up, shiny foil packet held between two fingers, those same two fingers that had brought you to your high twice already tonight.

“Can I help?” you push yourself to sit up, biting your lip at the dull throbbing between your thighs.

Yoongi hands the condom to you, scooting himself off the bed to discard the rest of his clothes. You watch as he pulls off his sweats, having foregone any underwear that evening, and your eyes train on his cock.

You think that your boyfriend maybe had the prettiest cock, he took pride in grooming himself; always making sure to be clean. You can only wonder how long it must have been erected for, cockhead an angry red, shiny with Yoongi’s own arousal, little beads of pre-cum cascading down his length.

You lean forwards, taking the girthy cock into your hands, the familiar weight making you salivate a little. You run the tip over your lips, coating it in Yoongi’s pre-cum.

“No teasing, doll” he grunts, and you smile, pulling back.

You roll the latex over his shaft, leaving it to bob uselessly against the skin of his stomach as he climbs back onto the bed.

“You sure you’re, okay?” he checks, helping lay you down comfortably, lifting the lower half of your body by your ankles, his other hand grabbing a pillow to cushion your hips.

He drops your legs back onto the bed, watching as you smile up at him.

“Come here” you tell him, and Yoongi obliges, humming into the gentle kiss you place on his lips, your own cum still staining the taste of him.

He wraps your thighs around his waist, one arm holds him up as he lines himself with your entrance.

Your mouth falls open into a silent ‘o’ when he pushes the head in, and Yoongi always makes sure to watch your face when he finally fucks you; not only as reassurance that you like what’s happening but so he knows just the right spot to drill into you.

Yoongi holds your hips as you try to rock forwards, his own hips stuttering in anticipation; but he holds himself back, liking the intimacy of having you sprawled out beneath him, fully trusting that he’ll take care of you. There had always been something so fulfilling to Yoongi about these intimate moments with you, your bodies joining to become one, your body pliant to his every move.

His hands leave your hips, skimming up your body before lacing his finger between your own.

“You good?” he whispers, unsure if he could utter anything more with how warm and wet you were, cunt clenching rhythmically around his length.

“Yeah” you whisper back, fingers tightening around his own when he gently pulls out before thrusting back into you.

Something akin to a squeak, tumbles from your lips when Yoongi picks up his pace, hands never letting go of yours as his hips snap forwards, thighs slapping against thighs with nothing more than the music of your bodies filling the silence of your bedroom.

Yoongi can only describe the sounds coming from you as pornographic, his thrusts pushing you up a little on the bed, he feels your nails dig into the skin of his hands, his own grunts mirroring your own pleasure.

“So close, so close” he chants, using whatever strength he has left in his arms to lean down, greedily sucking your left nipple between his teeth, teasing nips sending jolts of pleasure down your body.

Your boyfriend can feel your legs shake as he sucks a love bite just above the sensitive skin of your nipple, your hips bucking to meet his own.

He lets go of one of your hands, “Play with yourself, pretty. Let’s cum together”

You nod, sweat trickling down your neck as you trail a hand down your body. Slicking up your fingers from where Yoongi thrusts into you, your fingers start to play with your clit, jolt of pleasure causing your cunt spasm around Yoongi’s cock.

“Gonna cum” you whine, Yoongi’s teeth clamping around your nipple enough to push you over the edge.

Your legs tighten around his waist, stopping Yoongi’s sloppy thrusts, as you push him as deep inside of you as humanly possible. Your mind a blank slate as it rewires, slowly trying to become conscious of your surroundings.

You feel his cock twitch, his own cum shooting him the condom.

Yoongi collapses on top of you, a rush of air squeezing from your lungs when he lands with a dull thump.

“Ouch” you giggle, not protesting when his arms snake around your waist, flipping the two of over so you lay gently on his chest.

Yoongi’s fingers brush through your damp hair, “You did so well for me, pretty” he tells you, golden glow of the lamp illuminating him in that post-orgasmic bliss. If you though Yoongi looked good on a normal day, you had been utterly in awe when you’d seen him after he’d came.

“Thank you”

“For what?” he laughs, chest rumbling under your ear.

“Making me cum three times”

“Nothing I like more than my girl feeling good”

You hum at that, trying to push yourself up. Yoongi grunts, tugging you tighter against his chest.

“Yoongs I need to pee, and I feel all sticky” you complain, fingers toying with the divot of his collarbone.

“5 minutes”

“Min Yoongi” you laugh, pinching the skin of his neck.

“Fine but be quick” he loosens his arms. When you push yourself to sit, he pulls you back down.

“Hey!” you complain.

“Need a kiss first” he puckers up his lips, and you indulge him this one time, never in a hurry when it came to kissing your love.

And as you wash up in the bathroom, door slightly ajar where he can see you milling around, his fingers play with the little beaded bracelet you’d gifted him when you spent that first Christmas together.

Yoongi loved you a lot, more than he would ever be able to describe in words. He loved that he could give you a helping hand no matter the situation, and the shiny little ring, hidden away in his nightstand shrouded in a pretty, purple velvet box was his promise to you; that he would stay by your side for the rest of his life.

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