#And then I have to make sure that the parts I'm not upgrading will be compatible | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

estellan0vella · 2 days ago

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My Very Own Speed Demon: K.S Kim Seungmin x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 15.5K

CW: Seungmin is bad at feelings, talks of a guy making reader uncomfortable with touching, Mechanic Student Seungmin, Hyunjin is a bit of an ass

General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist

The sun sinks lower, painting Miroh College in golden hues as shadows stretch lazily across the almost-empty parking lot outside the engineering building. The faint hum of machinery fades into the evening air as Seungmin steps out, rolling his shoulders with a slight groan. His black shirt hangs open, the silver chain on his chest catching the light with every movement. He wipes his slightly greasy hands on a rag stuffed into his back pocket, his boots scuffing against the pavement as he heads toward his car.

But something halts him. A few rows down, parked like a relic from a cooler era, is a 1977 Datsun 280Z. The hood’s popped open, and standing in front of it is you.

You’re bent slightly over the engine, your phone in one hand as the other gestures vaguely toward something under the hood. A quiet sigh escapes you as you tilt your head, clearly deep in a YouTube tutorial. The sunlight plays off the chain belt draped around your waist, your layered necklaces, and the flutter of your blue maxi skirt. A loose strand of hair brushes against your face as you mumble softly to yourself, brows furrowed in concentration.

Seungmin slows, lips twitching into a barely restrained smirk. “Fuck me,” he mutters under his breath. You’re cute. And absolutely lost. Before he realizes it, his curiosity gets the better of him, and he strides toward you.

When he’s close enough to see the way you’re squinting at your phone like it holds the secrets of the universe, he clears his throat. “You’re looking at the wrong engine model.”

You jolt like you’ve been shocked, nearly dropping your phone as you whirl around. Your wide eyes meet his, and your voice comes out breathy, startled. “Shit, you scared me!”

Seungmin raises his hands in mock surrender, the silver rings on his fingers glinting. His smirk deepens. “Sorry, sorry. I just couldn’t help noticing you looked like you were fucking struggling.”

Your cheeks flush, but you huff out a laugh despite yourself. “Yeah, well. I don’t know jack shit about cars, so I’m improvising.” You gesture toward the duct tape crisscrossing random parts of the engine. “This seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Seungmin leans closer, eyebrows raised as he inspects the tape job. “Jesus Christ. That’s a lot of duct tape.”

“Duct tape works,” you insist, crossing your arms in a half-defensive, half-sheepish posture.

He straightens up, deadpan. “How’s it working for you right now?”

Your lips twitch, trying not to laugh. “Okay, point taken.”

He snorts, rolling up his sleeves as he steps closer to the car. “Mind if I take a look? Because this thing isn’t running without some proper help. And no offence, but I don’t think YouTube’s got you covered.”

You hesitate for a moment, then sigh, stepping aside. “Go ahead. I’d appreciate it. Just, please don’t tell me it’s completely fucked.”

He leans over the engine, peering into the mess of parts. “Probably just your spark plug. Maybe the alternator if you’re really unlucky. But this? This is salvageable.”

You lean against the side of the car, watching him as he works. The way his fingers move over the parts, quick and sure, makes you feel a little less panicked. “The grease on your face tells me you’ve done this before, so I have faith in you"

Seungmin glances at you, smirking. “You should probably raise the bar for what counts as a ‘professional mechanic.’ But yeah, I’ve worked on cars since I was a kid and I'm a mechanics student. You’re in decent hands.”

“Well, considering I almost called Hyunjin to come save me, you’re already a fucking upgrade,” you admit with a small laugh.

He freezes for a split second, looking up at you. “You know Hyunjin?”

“Yeah,” you say, tucking your phone into your bag. “We’re supposed to be working on this art history project together. He’s going to fucking kill me for being late.”

That earns you a quiet laugh as Seungmin wipes his hands on his rag. “You’re meeting him at the Alpha Phi house?”

You blink at him in surprise. “Wait, you’re in Alpha Phi?”

He shrugs, leaning casually against the car. “Yeah. I'm Seungmin. I live there with him and the other idiots.”

A grin tugs at your lips. “I'm Y/N and Hyunjin's mentioned you. Mostly just complains about you being soulless.”

Seungmin snorts. “Sounds about right.” He glances back at the engine, then at you. “Hate to break it to you, but this car isn’t going anywhere until you replace the spark plug. You’re fucked for tonight.”

You groan, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Of course I am. That’s just perfect.”

“Hey,” he says, his tone softening slightly. “I’m heading home anyway. Why don’t you let me give you a ride? It’s either that or you haul your ass across campus alone.”

You hesitate, biting your lip as you weigh your options. “Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you or anything.”

Seungmin tilts his head, his voice calm but teasing. “What kind of dick would I be if I let a pretty girl with good taste in cars walk all the way to campus alone?”

“The same kind of dick as most of the guys on this campus?”

He bursts out laughing, shaking his head. “Well, they’re all assholes. I’m not.”

That gets a real laugh out of you, and you push off the car. “Alright, fine. Let me grab my bag.”

As you fall into step beside him, he shoves his hands into his pockets, glancing at you sideways. “So, art history, huh? What’s the project?”

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s on Tudor art. Specifically how Anne Boleyn’s image was erased after her execution. Hyunjin’s handling the movement and symbolism stuff.”

Seungmin groans, rolling his eyes. “That tracks. Hyunjin loves overanalyzing the fuck out of everything. Half the time, I think he’s just making shit up to sound smart.”

You laugh softly, your steps matching his as the two of you head into the twilight.

The drive to the Alpha Phi house is unexpectedly comfortable, considering you’re riding with a guy you’ve known for all of ten minutes. Seungmin’s Honda Civic smells faintly of coffee and motor oil, and the faint hum of the engine is almost soothing as it cuts through the winding streets of Miroh College. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, curious about this sharp-tongued yet oddly chivalrous stranger. He’s relaxed, one hand gripping the wheel while the other rests on the gear shift, the silver rings on his fingers glinting in the muted streetlights.

Seungmin breaks the silence first, his voice dry but not unkind. “So, why a 280Z?”

You blink, his question catching you off guard. “What do you mean?”

He flicks his gaze toward you briefly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth before his eyes return to the road. “It’s a cool car, sure. But let’s be honest—it’s a high-maintenance pain in the ass. And judging by your duct tape situation earlier, I wouldn’t peg you as the ‘engine whisperer’ type.”

You laugh softly, your fingers fiddling with the bracelets on your wrist. “Okay, fair enough. I’m not exactly a mechanic. But it was my dad’s car. He restored it when he was in college, and it’s been in the family ever since. It’s sentimental, you know?”

His smirk softens into something more genuine, and he nods. “Yeah. I get that.”

The car falls into a comfortable quiet again, broken only by the soft buzz of the engine and the occasional sound of tires crunching over the asphalt. The two of you fill the gaps in the silence with casual conversation. You complain about campus parking, and he counters with a running list of the best parking spots he’s commandeered over the years.

He mentions a coffee shop near the library that’s cheap but “doesn’t taste like watered-down pretentious-cunt water,” and you can’t help but laugh at the absurdity. When you bring up how much you love late-night drives, his face lights up just slightly, and he shares how he used to drive aimlessly to clear his head when shit got overwhelming.

By the time he pulls up in front of the Alpha Phi house, its massive white columns glowing in the night like some over-the-top temple to chaos, you’re almost disappointed that the ride is over.

The house looms ahead, loud even from the outside. Someone’s yelling from the second-floor window, and you catch a glimpse of a guy leaning halfway out, waving his arms. “For fuck’s sake, Chan, shut up and come back in before you fall!” someone shouts from inside.

Seungmin just shakes his head, exhaling sharply as he pulls into the driveway and cuts the engine. “Every day, I wonder why the fuck I still live here,” he mutters under his breath, grabbing his keys.

You step out of the car and sling your bag over your shoulder, smoothing your skirt as he leads the way up the wide, creaky steps. The faint light from the porch lamp glints off the chain around his neck as he digs into his pocket for the keys.

“Hyunjin’s probably upstairs,” he says, unlocking the door with a practiced ease. “You’ll hear him before you see him.”

The door creaks open, and the chaos of the frat house spills out into the night. Inside, the space is somehow both clean and a complete disaster. The floors are clear of clutter, but the mismatched furniture in the living room is piled with discarded hoodies, random solo cups, and what looks suspiciously like a pair of boxers. A giant flat-screen TV blares some football highlight reel, and the faint smell of beer, sweat, and something burnt lingers in the air.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say quietly, taking a tentative step inside. The house feels like it’s pulsing with energy—voices shouting, footsteps pounding, someone laughing like a maniac in the kitchen.

Seungmin shrugs, brushing past you toward the noise. “No problem. Hyunjin’s room is upstairs, last door on the left. Just tell him I didn’t kill you or anything.”

You smile a little at that and nod, heading toward the stairs. The wooden steps creak under your Converse, and the sounds of the house get louder with each step. Behind one door, someone’s blasting music—something heavy and bass-driven. Behind another, you hear what sounds like a heated debate about the “existential meaning” of SpongeBob.

Finally, you reach the last door on the left. You knock softly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you wait.

“Come in!” Hyunjin’s voice booms out almost immediately, loud and theatrical as always.

You push the door open to find Hyunjin sprawled dramatically on his bed, his long limbs draped across the comforter like he’s auditioning for some avant-garde art piece. He’s shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants that hang dangerously low on his hips, and his golden hair is messy in a way that looks too good to be accidental.

“Took you fucking long enough,” he says, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. “I was about to start working without you.” His eyes land on you, and then narrow slightly. “Wait—how the fuck did you even get here? Did you walk?”

“No,” you say, stepping into the room and closing the door behind you. “Your friend Seungmin gave me a ride. My car decided to fuck me over in the middle of the engineering lot.”

At the mention of Seungmin, Hyunjin groans, flopping back onto his bed like the mere thought of his frat brother is exhausting. “Of course he did. Bet he was an absolute cunt about it too, wasn’t he?”

You laugh softly, setting your bag down on the chair near his desk. “He was actually pretty nice. Surprisingly helpful, considering the duct tape situation.”

Hyunjin snorts, propping himself up on his elbows. “That asshole’s full of surprises. Don’t get used to it, though. He’s usually too busy being a sarcastic dick to help anyone.”

You smile faintly, settling into the chair and pulling out your notes. “He’s not that bad.”

“Trust me,” Hyunjin says, grabbing a notebook from the floor and flipping it open. “You haven’t known him long enough yet. Give it time.”

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm, the chaos of the house fading into the background as you dive into your project.

Seungmin steps into the kitchen, popping the tab on a cold beer before leaning against the counter. The sound of the aluminium can hissing open is barely audible over the general buzz of conversation. He takes a long, quiet swig, hoping for just a moment of peace. But when he lowers the can, he immediately notices it. Six pairs of eyes fixed on him like vultures circling a fresh carcass.

Minho, Felix, Jeongin, Changbin, Jisung, and Chan sit scattered around the dining table, their expressions ranging from smirking amusement to outright glee.

“So,” Chan starts, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms like he’s conducting some kind of frat house tribunal. “She was cute.”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, playing dumb. “Who?”

“You fucking heard me,” Chan replies, his smirk widening. “The girl. The one who came in your car.”

Minho snickers, lazily spinning a pen between his fingers. “Yeah, I saw her. Very your type. You into hippies now?”

Felix immediately elbows Minho in the ribs, his voice sharp with mock outrage. “Shut the fuck up, Minho. She wasn’t a hippie; she was hot.”

Seungmin groans, tipping his head back and muttering to the ceiling like it might spare him. “Here we fucking go.”

“You don’t just offer a girl a ride unless there’s something there,” Jeongin cuts in, his grin pure mischief as he leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head.

Seungmin shoots him a glare. “Her car was busted, and it was getting dark. What was I supposed to do, leave her there to get mugged or some shit?”

Jisung raises a hand like he’s in class, his grin borderline feral. “Counterpoint: You’re totally the guy who lets people fend for themselves because you’re too busy being a soulless bastard”

Changbin chuckles, lifting his can in a mock toast. “Be honest. You didn’t give her a ride because you’re a nice guy. You did it because she’s hot, right?”

Seungmin takes a slow, deliberate sip of his beer, his patience thinning with every word. When he sets it down, he exhales sharply. “From an objective standpoint, sure. She’s, objectively speaking, good-looking. I can admit that.”

“‘Objectively,’” Jisung parrots, squinting at him. “Why the fuck do you keep saying it like that?”

Jeongin smirks, leaning forward with his chin resting on his palm. “Because our boy here doesn’t know how to handle the fact that he just lived a fucking meet-cute.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes so hard he’s surprised they don’t pop out of his skull. “I don’t know her. I gave her a ride, that’s it. The end. Stop making this a fucking thing.”

“Yet,” Changbin drawls, grinning like he’s cracked the code. “You don’t know her yet. But you could.”

“This isn’t a fucking fanfiction,” Seungmin snaps, slamming his beer down on the counter hard enough to make the others laugh. “Alright? This is real life. She’s not some pixie dream girl who’s gonna change my fucking world or whatever.”

“Relax,” Jisung says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “We’re just saying it’s a possibility. You’ve got the whole oil-smeared, black-on-black, moody mechanic thing going for you. Girls eat that shit up.”

“Exactly,” Jeongin agrees, nodding sagely. “She’s probably already imagining you fixing her car shirtless in slow motion. Hell, I’m imagining it.”

“Fucking gross,” Seungmin deadpans, shaking his head as the table dissolves into laughter.

Chan raises an eyebrow, his voice mockingly serious. “You’re saying there’s no chance, none at all, that she might’ve been a little into you?”

Seungmin stares at him, his tone flat. “Zero. I’m the asshole who told her duct tape isn’t a real fix and then made her leave her car in the lot. Really romantic.”

“That’s your version,” Felix says with a grin. “Her version is probably all, ‘Oh my God, this sexy, grumpy mechanic saved me and then gave me a ride in his cool car.’”

“It’s a Honda Civic,” Seungmin mutters.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jisung replies. “You’re a walking Wattpad trope right now.”

Seungmin sighs heavily, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’re all idiots. I helped her out because it was the right thing to do. That’s it.”

But as their teasing fades into background noise, Seungmin can’t help the way your face lingers in his mind. The way you’d smiled at him, soft and sweet, like you weren’t sure if you were supposed to but couldn’t help it anyway. The way you’d laughed when he’d called you out on your duct tape fix, not defensive, just genuine. And the way you’d looked so at ease in the passenger seat of his car, your hair catching the light from the streetlamps as you told him about your dad’s 280Z.

He shakes his head, pushing the thoughts aside. This is nothing. Just a pretty girl who needed a ride.

At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself as he finishes his beer and listens to his friends laugh.

The autumn sun bathes the campus in golden light, shadows stretching across the cobblestones as Seungmin strides toward the café. The crunch of fallen leaves under his boots echoes in the crisp air, his every step purposeful but unhurried. His black compression top clings to his frame, the fabric outlining his shoulders and arms. The silver chain against his chest catches the light as he shifts the strap of his bag, his fingers absently toying with the chunky rings that gleam on his hand.

He spots the café ahead, its tables littered with students hunched over laptops, sipping steaming cups of caffeine. His plan is simple. Grab coffee, kill some time, and enjoy the rare peace between classes. But as he rounds the corner, the sight of you freezes him mid-step.

You’re standing near the entrance, your sage green blouse slipping slightly off one shoulder, the delicate strap of your bra peeking out. Layers of necklaces glint against your skin, and your chain belt sways with every tiny shift of your weight. You’re smiling, polite but clearly uneasy, as a Sigma Chi douchebag looms too close. His navy sweatshirt emblazoned with the frat’s oversized logo makes Seungmin’s lip curl immediately.

“You’re such a fucking tease, you know that?” the guy sneers, his voice dripping with mockery.

Your polite smile falters, but you hold your ground, your tone gentle despite the venom aimed at you. “I’m sorry. I just don’t think—”

“Bullshit,” the guy cuts you off sharply, his voice rising. “You were sweet as fuck at the party, all flirty and cute. Now you’re ghosting me like I’m some fucking loser? What the fuck is that about?”

Seungmin’s jaw tightens. The guy’s posture, leaning in with fake bravado, makes his blood simmer. You’re too nice, too soft-spoken, trying to defuse the situation instead of telling this idiot to fuck all the way off. Not on Seungmin’s watch.

“Hey, Y/N!” Seungmin calls out as he strides toward you.

Your head snaps to him, relief flashing across your face. “Oh! Hi, Seungmin!” The brightness in your voice is unmistakable, and you take a step toward him, only for the Sigma Chi asshole to block your way.

The guy sneers, glancing between you and Seungmin. “Kim Seungmin? Really? You’re ditching me for this fucker?”

Seungmin’s boots crunch loudly against the gravel as he closes the distance. His sharp eyes narrow, and his voice drops, calm but laced with menace. “Got something you want to say, Sigma Chi?”

The guy stiffens but holds his ground, though the confidence in his sneer wavers. “Yeah. I’m saying she’s ditching a real man for some emo mechanic wannabe. That about cover it?”

Seungmin tilts his head slightly, his lips curving into the faintest smirk. “Funny. You sound like a lot of talk for someone who’s about five seconds away from having their teeth kicked in.”

The frat guy falters, glancing around to see if anyone is watching. Seungmin steps closer, his boots scraping loudly against the pavement, and lowers his voice. “Walk away, asshole. While you still have a choice.”

The guy scowls but backs off, muttering something about “fucking losers” under his breath as he storms off. Seungmin watches him go, the tension in his posture easing only once the guy is out of sight.

“Fucking dickhead,” he mutters before turning his attention back to you. “You alright?”

You nod, your fingers fidgeting with the bracelets on your wrist as you take a steadying breath. “Yeah. I didn’t know how to get him to leave without making it worse.”

“You don’t have to,” Seungmin says simply. “Guys like that don’t deserve your time. Next time, just tell him to fuck off.”

You laugh softly, though it’s tinged with a bit of nervousness. “Easier said than done.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he says, his voice lighter now, though the edge of protectiveness hasn’t left. He tilts his head toward the café door. “Come on. Let’s get coffee before some other Sigma Chi asshole shows up.”

You fall into step beside him, the warmth of the café greeting you as you step inside. The scent of fresh coffee and pastries wraps around you like a blanket, and the low hum of conversation fills the space.

“Grab a seat,” Seungmin says, gesturing toward the tables. “I’ll order.”

You choose a small table by the window, your nerves finally settling as you watch him at the counter. He exchanges a few quick words with the barista, his tone casual but confident, and a few minutes later, he’s making his way back to you with two drinks in hand.

He sets a cup in front of you before sliding into the seat across from you. “Chai latte,” he says. “Figured that’s more your speed than straight black coffee.”

You blink, pleasantly surprised. “How’d you know I like chai?”

He shrugs, smirking faintly as he takes a sip of his own drink. “Lucky guess. You just seem like the type.”

You chuckle, wrapping your hands around the warm cup. “Well, thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Least I could do,” he says, leaning back in his chair, his silver rings tapping lightly against the ceramic mug. “That guy was a fucking disaster.”

You trace your finger around the rim of your cup, your voice soft. “He wasn’t always like that. We just didn’t click, and I thought he’d understand, but I guess not.”

Seungmin snorts, setting his drink down with a small thunk. “Yeah, because entitled shitheads like him don’t take rejection well. They think they’re God’s gift to the world and lose their shit the second someone disagrees.”

You smile faintly, though there’s a sadness in your eyes. “I just try to see the good in people. Maybe that’s stupid.”

He watches you for a moment, his eyes softening. “It’s not stupid. It’s just risky. Too many people out there are assholes, and being nice doesn’t mean they’ll stop being assholes.”

You nod, taking a sip of your latte and you glance up at him with a small smile. “Well, I’m lucky you were there.”

“Damn right, you were,” he says with a smirk. “Seriously, though. If some other dick tries that shit, call me. I’ll handle it.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing. “What, glare them into submission?”

“Exactly,” he deadpans, taking another sip of his drink. “It’s a very refined technique.”

You laugh, the sound light and genuine, and the tension from earlier melts away completely. Seungmin surprises you with his dry humour and blunt honesty, and before you know it, the conversation flows easily, dipping into random topics and shared complaints about campus life.

When you finally leave the café, the sun has dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the quad. Seungmin walks beside you, his hands shoved into his pockets as the two of you approach the main campus intersection.

“You heading to class?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you reply. “Art history in ten.”

He nods. “Workshop for me. Another day of fixing shit that some moron broke.”

You laugh softly. “Sounds riveting.”

“Oh, it’s a fucking thrill,” he replies with a faint grin.

At the intersection, you pause, turning to face him. “Thanks again, Seungmin. For everything.”

He nods, his expression softening. “Anytime. Just don’t let assholes like that ruin your day, alright?”

You smile warmly, your voice quiet but sincere. “I’ll try.”

With a small wave, you head off toward your class, and Seungmin watches you go, the sound of your footsteps fading into the autumn breeze.

He shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. You’re sweet, soft-spoken, and far too good for this world. And somehow, you’re starting to get under his skin.

The Alpha Phi house looms ahead as you walk up the driveway, your oversized portfolio folder tucked under one arm. The autumn breeze toys with the hem of your blue maxi dress, making it swirl around your ankles as you climb the steps to the front door. Stray strands of hair escape from the clip holding them back, brushing against your face as you adjust the strap of your bag and shift the weight of the folder. Your mind is focused on Tudor art, Anne Boleyn, and the mountain of work you need to finish before tomorrow—definitely not on how chaotic the frat house is probably about to be.

You knock lightly on the door and step back, waiting. The sound of heavy footsteps grows louder before the lock clicks, and the door swings open to reveal Seungmin, barefoot, in grey sweatpants slung low on his hips and a white t-shirt clinging to his damp frame. A towel hangs loosely around his neck, his dark hair tousled and still wet from a shower. The sight is so effortlessly casual yet striking that it catches you off guard, and for a second, you forget why you’re even here.

His sharp gaze flicks to the massive portfolio folder you’re holding. “Jesus Christ,” he deadpans, leaning against the doorframe. “That thing’s almost as big as you.”

You huff a soft laugh, shifting the folder to rest it against your hip. “Well, Tudor art’s got a lot of depth. It’s heavy, literally and metaphorically.”

Seungmin’s lips twitch into a faint smirk. “Right. Deep. Heavy. Bet it’s still more entertaining than the shit Hyunjin tries to call art.”

You grin, your voice light as you step past him into the house. “Oh, it’s profound. Intricate. Emotionally moving. You’d love it.”

The house, predictably, is chaotic but lively. There’s the faint sound of a video game coming from one of the rooms down the hall, the kitchen smells faintly of burned something, and a pair of sneakers is inexplicably hanging from the banister. You glance around, searching for any sign of Hyunjin.

Seungmin notices your scanning gaze and rubs the back of his neck. “About that,” he says, his voice edged with mild irritation. “Hyunjin left, like, twenty minutes ago. Went to meet up with that Marissa girl.”

Your shoulders slump slightly as you let out a quiet sigh. “Of course he did. Perfect timing as always.”

Seungmin shrugs, dropping the towel onto the back of the couch and crossing his arms. “If it helps, I can try to help you out. And by help, I mean I’ll sit here, look up shit on my laptop, and let you do all the actual work.”

Your grin softens into something more genuine. “That would actually be amazing. Thanks, Seungmin.”

He jerks his head toward the stairs. “Come on. It’s quieter in my room.”

You follow him up, navigating past a stray hockey stick and what looks like a torn-out couch cushion, until you reach his room. It’s surprisingly neat—especially for a frat house—with a neatly made bed in one corner, a desk covered in mechanical tools and textbooks, and walls lined with posters. Your gaze lands immediately on one—a half-naked woman straddling a motorcycle, her pouty lips and sultry gaze seeming comically out of place compared to the otherwise functional vibe of the room.

“Wow,” you say, unable to suppress a small laugh. “A half-naked girl on a motorcycle? Real classy.”

Seungmin glances at the poster, his smirk returning. “What can I say? It’s vintage. Been with me since I was thirteen. Practically a family heirloom at this point.”

You hum thoughtfully, setting your portfolio down on the bed. “I had Bruno Mars on my wall. Right next to Edward Cullen.”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Bruno Mars and Edward Cullen? What a lineup.”

You shrug, your lips quirking. “I was multifaceted.”

“Clearly,” he says, smirking as he leans back on his hands. “But Edward Cullen, though?”

You nod, unzipping your portfolio. “Oh, obviously. A staple for any teenage girl. But for the record, I was team Alice.”

That makes him pause, his brow furrowing slightly. “Team Alice? Not team Jacob or Edward?”

“Too mainstream,” you say with a grin. “Alice deserved better. She’s underrated.”

Seungmin lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I can’t even argue with that.”

You settle cross-legged on the bed, flipping through the pages of your portfolio and spreading your sketches and notes across the comforter. Seungmin leans forward slightly, picking up one of your reference images.

“So,” he says, studying the sketch of a Tudor-era portrait. “What’s the big project?”

“It’s about how Anne Boleyn’s likeness was erased after her execution,” you explain, pointing to a specific note scribbled in the margin. “They painted over her portraits, rewrote history through art. It’s fucked up, but it’s also fascinating. Some of her portraits survived, though. It’s like this tiny act of defiance against a system that tried to erase her completely.”

Seungmin traces his thumb along the edge of the image, his dark eyes thoughtful. “That’s some heavy shit. People really went that far to bury her?”

“Yep,” you reply, smoothing out another page of notes. “Art’s more powerful than people realize. It can tell the truth—or rewrite it. That’s what makes this so interesting. It’s like solving a mystery but through brushstrokes and canvas.”

He watches you for a moment, his gaze steady and unreadable. The way your eyes light up, your voice gaining a quiet confidence as you explain something you’re clearly passionate about—it’s distracting in a way he didn’t expect. And maybe doesn’t entirely hate.

“Alright,” he says finally, snapping out of it. “Tudor art, huh? I think I’ve got some old books on restoration techniques that might help.”

You blink, surprised. “You do?”

He gets up, heading to his desk and rummaging through a small shelf. “Yeah. Took an elective on historical restoration last year. Figured I’d keep the books in case I needed them. Didn’t think they’d actually be useful, though.”

You watch as he pulls out a few worn textbooks, his movements efficient but with an almost surprising gentleness. He tosses them onto the bed beside you.

“Here,” he says. “See if there’s anything in there you can use.”

You pick up one of the books, flipping through the pages with growing excitement. “Seungmin, this is perfect. Thank you.”

He sits back down, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “No problem. Just don’t let Hyunjin take all the credit for this shit.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “He’s not that bad.”

Seungmin snorts, his smirk turning sharp. “Sure he’s not.”

Seungmin leans back against the headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him, one foot tapping lazily against the edge of the bed. He watches you sketch in your portfolio, the soft scratch of your pencil filling the otherwise quiet room. The occasional rustle of paper or your quiet hum of concentration is the only sound beyond the faint chaos filtering in from the house downstairs.

For a moment, he just observes. The way your brow furrows slightly as you work, how the delicate chain around your neck glints every time you shift positions.

Finally, he breaks the silence, his tone dry. “So, how many times has Hyunjin ditched you for shit like this?”

You pause mid-sketch, glancing up at him with a small shrug. “It’s not that bad,” you say. “He lets me use his printer when I need it. Mine broke a while ago, and I haven’t replaced it yet.”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, his smirk sharp as a blade. “Do you own anything that actually works, or is your whole life just duct tape and crossed fingers?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “A few things work. My blender’s still going strong.”

“Great,” he deadpans, gesturing at the mess of notes and sketches spread across the bed. “And how much of this ‘collaborative’ project is actually Hyunjin’s work?”

You hesitate before flipping to a single page in your portfolio, its sparse, half-assed notes glaringly out of place among your meticulously detailed work. You push it toward him, your lips twitching in a sheepish smile.

Seungmin peers at it, his expression blank for a beat before he lets out a low whistle. “Holy shit,” he mutters, leaning back. “He’s really pulling his weight, huh?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “He’s busy, I guess.”

“Yeah, busy being a useless dick,” Seungmin says bluntly. “Honestly, you should erase his name from the project and turn it in as your own. Fuck him.”

Your eyes widen, and you immediately shake your head, scandalized. “I can’t do that! He could fail!”

“And?” Seungmin’s gaze sharpens, his voice edged with disbelief. “That’s his problem. You’re the one busting your ass here. What’s he even doing, fucking Marissa while you save his degree?”

You groan softly, dropping your pencil and fidgeting with the hem of your dress. “It’s not that simple. I don’t want to screw him over.”

Seungmin sighs, his tone exasperated but not unkind. “Then you need to tell him to step the fuck up. You’re not his babysitter.”

You grimace, avoiding his eyes as you pick at a loose thread on your skirt. “Confrontation makes me feel like I’m going to physically die.”

He snorts, his lips curving into a smirk as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Yeah, you seem like the type who’d eat around a deathly allergen just to avoid ‘causing trouble.’”

Your silence is damning. You don’t even look up.

“Oh my fucking god,” Seungmin says, his voice laced with incredulity. “You’ve actually done that, haven’t you?”

You groan softly, covering your face with your hands. “I had my EpiPen! I was being polite!”

He stares at you for a long moment before letting out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “You risked death to be fucking polite? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Peeking at him through your fingers, your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “To be fair, the coconut added to the flavour. I wasn’t even mad when my throat started closing up.”

Seungmin’s jaw drops, and he shakes his head, looking genuinely appalled. “What the actual fuck? You’re insane. Like, genuinely fucking insane. Who the hell does that?”

You shrug, biting your lip to hide a laugh. “It was a really good dessert.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me.” When he looks back at you, there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes, though his voice is firm. “You’re unbelievable. Sweet, sure. But fucking unbelievable.”

“I just don’t like making people feel bad,” you say softly, fidgeting with your pencil again. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” he counters, his voice dropping into something almost serious. “You shouldn’t have to risk your life or your grade just to keep everyone else happy. That’s not how it works.”

You glance at him, surprised by the sudden edge in his tone. The usual sarcasm in his voice is gone, replaced by something quieter, heavier. It’s unexpected, but it doesn’t feel unwelcome.

“Maybe you’re right,” you murmur, your gaze flicking back to the portfolio spread across the bed. “But it’s hard. I don’t want to cause trouble.”

Seungmin leans back against the headboard, watching you for a long moment. His expression softens just slightly. “Standing up for yourself isn’t causing trouble,” he says, his voice quieter now. “It’s just making sure people don’t walk all over you. And trust me, people will walk all over you if you let them.”

You nod slowly, taking in his words as you absently trace the edge of your sketchbook. For a moment, the room is quiet again, save for the faint noise of the frat house below.

Seungmin’s voice cuts through the silence, light and teasing once more. “So, about the coconut. Did someone finally figure out you were dying, or did you just sit there and wait for your ‘polite death’?”

You laugh softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “One of my friends noticed and freaked out. She basically tackled me and stabbed the EpiPen into my leg while I was trying to tell her it was fine.”

Seungmin lets out another laugh, running a hand through his damp hair. “Jesus fucking Christ. You’re lucky you’ve got people watching out for you, because clearly, you won’t do it yourself.”

You stick your tongue out at him, earning a sharp smirk in return. “Maybe I’ll start being more assertive. After this project is done.”

“Good,” he says, stretching his legs out and crossing his arms. “Because if you let Hyunjin keep pulling this shit, I’m gonna start calling you Saint Y/N. Patron fucking saint of doormats.”

You roll your eyes, laughing despite yourself. “Fine, fine. I’ll try to stand up for myself. No promises, though.”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, his smirk laced with challenge. “I’ll believe it when I fucking see it.”

And though he’s teasing, there’s something in his voice that feels almost encouraging, like he might actually believe you can do it.

The house hums with faint background noise as Seungmin sits cross-legged on his bed, the fan lazily pushing air through the room. Your portfolio rests open in front of him, the pages fanned out carefully on the comforter. His sharp eyes flick over your sketches, pausing on the intricate lines and shading of Anne Boleyn’s face.

One piece in particular, a half-finished sketch of Anne wearing her iconic "B" necklace, makes him stop. Her expression is soft but haunted, the shadows under her eyes suggesting both weariness and resilience. It’s not just good; it’s fucking captivating.

“Damn,” he mutters under his breath, running a thumb along the edge of the page. “She's talented as fuck.”

He leans back, letting his head rest against the wall as his thoughts drift. He’s not sure what it is about you that keeps grabbing his attention. Maybe it’s the way your sweetness feels genuine, like it hasn’t been diluted by the world yet. Or maybe it’s the quiet determination you carry, even when people like Hyunjin leave you holding the bag.

The thought of Hyunjin makes his jaw tighten. That asshole.

By the time Hyunjin walks through the door later that night, the house is alive again. Bowls of Minho’s kimchi jjigae are being passed around the living room, the spicy, rich aroma filling the air. Seungmin sits on the floor, his back against the couch, spooning stew into his mouth like it’s his last meal.

The front door opens with a bang, and Hyunjin strides in, looking far too pleased with himself. His hair is slightly mussed, and he hums under his breath as he kicks off his sneakers. Before he can even greet anyone, a slipper flies through the air, smacking him square in the face.

“What the fuck?!” he yells, stumbling back and clutching his nose. His wide, offended eyes dart to Seungmin, who’s glaring at him.

“You,” Seungmin says, setting his bowl down on the coffee table with deliberate care, “are fucking lucky Y/N is too nice for her own damn good.”

The chatter in the room screeches to a halt. Chan, perched on an armchair, raises an eyebrow and gestures vaguely with his spoon. “Alright, what the hell is happening?”

Seungmin doesn’t even glance away from Hyunjin as he explains. “Our dear friend here has left Y/N to carry their entire art history project on her back. She’s done everything, while he’s done jack fucking shit.”

Minho, who’s leaning casually against the wall with a beer in hand, lets out a low whistle. “Classic Hyunjin move. Should’ve seen it coming.”

Hyunjin groans, rubbing the spot on his cheek where the slipper hit him. “She said she didn’t mind! I asked her if she needed help, and she told me it was fine!”

“Of course she did,” Seungmin snaps, his glare intensifying. “Because she doesn’t like confrontation, you absolute dickhead. And you fucking know that.”

“That’s rough, man,” Felix says from the couch, slurping his stew loudly. “Kinda makes you a cunt, doesn’t it?”

Hyunjin groans again, throwing his hands up. “Okay, okay, I get it. I fucked up. What do you want me to do?!”

Seungmin doesn’t even hesitate. “Pay for her car repairs.”

The room goes completely still. Then, one by one, everyone nods in agreement.

“Yeah,” Chan says, pointing his spoon at Hyunjin like a judge passing down a sentence. “That’s fair.”

“Her car’s a fucking 280Z,” Minho adds, taking a swig of his beer. “Repairs aren’t cheap. Pay up, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin looks around the room in disbelief, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “You guys are ganging up on me! What the fuck!”

“No, what the fuck is you,” Seungmin snaps, crossing his arms over his chest. “You owe her. If it weren’t for her, you’d fail that class. Pay for the fucking car.”

Hyunjin sighs heavily, dragging a hand through his hair. “Fine. Fucking fine. I’ll pay for her car repairs. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Seungmin says flatly, picking up his bowl of stew again. “And if you flake on this, I’ll throw something heavier than a slipper next time.”

“Like what?” Hyunjin challenges weakly.

“Like the fucking coffee table,” Seungmin replies without missing a beat.

The room bursts into laughter, but Hyunjin mutters under his breath as he grabs a bowl of jjigae for himself. Changbin, seated on the floor with his legs stretched out, nudges Seungmin with his foot. “You really stepped up for her, huh? Study buddy and all.”

Hyunjin squints at Seungmin, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “Wait. You? Helping with art? What’s next, you learning to waterpaint?”

Seungmin glares at him, but the heat doesn’t quite reach his voice. “I know how to read, dumbass. It’s not that hard to help someone find sources.”

Jeongin smirks from his spot by the coffee table, resting his chin in his hand. “Nah, it’s not just that. Seungmin’s got a soft spot for her. We all see it.”

Felix leans forward, his grin mischievous. “Yeah, the mean mechanic act breaks real quick when she walks in with her flowy skirts and shy little smile. You’ve got a thing for her, don’t you?”

Seungmin flips him off with zero hesitation, his eyes narrowing. “Eat shit, Felix.”

“I’m just saying,” Felix continues, unbothered. “You’re kinda protective for someone who’s ‘just helping.’”

“I don’t have a fucking thing for anyone,” Seungmin retorts, shoving a spoonful of stew into his mouth. “She needed help, so I helped. End of fucking story.”

“Right,” Jisung says, drawing out the word with an obnoxiously knowing smirk. “Totally believable.”

Seungmin groans, standing up and grabbing his empty bowl. “You’re all fucking insufferable.”

As he stalks out of the room, the sound of their laughter echoes behind him. But as much as he tries to ignore their teasing, the image of you sketching quietly on his bed lingers in his mind.

Maybe they’re not entirely wrong. But he’s not about to admit that. Not yet.

The late afternoon sunlight slants through the wide windows of the Alpha Phi living room, turning the room golden and catching motes of dust as they swirl lazily in the air. The mismatched furniture gives the space a slightly chaotic charm. Minho is sprawled on the couch like a cat, his cherry-red hair catching the sunlight as he lazily flips through a magazine about exotic pets. A faint smirk plays on his lips, suggesting he’s less interested in the articles and more in the idea of tormenting his housemates with his next grand idea.

Chan is perched on the armrest of the couch, his easy grin in place as he scrolls on his phone. His head bobs faintly to the playlist humming from a speaker tucked in the corner.

The peace doesn’t last.

Seungmin walks in, his boots heavy against the floor, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black cargos. His shoulders are tense, his jaw locked tight, and his sharp eyes dart around the room like he’s searching for something or someone to aim his frustration at.

Minho looks up first, instantly zeroing in on Seungmin’s sour expression. He doesn’t bother hiding his amusement. “Well, well, if it isn’t Mr. Sunshine himself,” he drawls, tossing the magazine onto the cluttered coffee table. “What’s got your panties in a twist today?”

“Fuck off,” Seungmin snaps, sinking into the armchair across from them with all the grace of a dropped anvil. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and drags a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath.

Chan raises an eyebrow, setting his phone aside. “Uh-oh. You look like you’ve been thinking too hard. What’s going on?”

Minho leans forward, his smirk sharpening like a predator scenting blood. “Yeah, Seungmin. Lay it on us. Who pissed you off now? Or is this your natural state?”

Seungmin glares, his gaze flicking between them like he’s debating whether or not to just leave. But the weight in his chest refuses to budge, and he knows he’s going to explode if he doesn’t say something.

Finally, he exhales sharply, his voice low and tight. “It’s about Y/N.”

Minho and Chan exchange a quick glance, eyebrows shooting up in unison. Minho’s grin stretches wider, and Chan’s expression softens with interest.

“Oh, this is gonna be good,” Minho says, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Go on, lover boy. We’re listening.”

Seungmin scowls, but the heat in his glare feels more defensive than angry. “I don’t know,” he mutters, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I’ve just been thinking about her. A lot. And it’s fucking annoying.”

“Thinking about her how?” Minho presses, his tone a mix of curiosity and outright glee.

“Fucking... I don’t know! Like that!” Seungmin snaps, gesturing vaguely with one hand. “That’s why I’m asking you two assholes. What the fuck is going on with me?”

Minho’s grin turns predatory. “Oh, you absolute dumbass. You like her.”

Seungmin freezes, his sharp gaze snapping to Minho. “Do I?”

“Yes,” Chan says immediately, clapping his hands together like he’s just cracked the case of the century. “It’s so fucking obvious. How do you not know this?”

Minho cackles, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand. “Are you emotionally stunted, or just slow on the uptake?”

“Probably both,” Seungmin mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “God, this is fucking stupid.”

Chan’s grin turns fond, his voice teasing but not unkind. “Oh, Seungminnie. You’re so cute when you’re like this.”

Seungmin flips him off without hesitation. “Don’t fucking start.”

Minho tilts his head, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “You’re really out here having a whole-ass existential crisis because you caught feelings. It’s almost... endearing.”

“Fuck you, Minho,” Seungmin bites out, though his tone lacks any real venom. “I didn’t ask to be analyzed. I just want to know what the fuck I’m supposed to do about it.”

Minho sits up, rubbing his chin like he’s deep in thought. “Well, for starters, you could try not being such a cold, emotionally constipated robot. That might help.”

Seungmin glares, leaning back in the chair. “So helpful. Thanks.”

Chan chuckles, reaching over to pat Seungmin’s shoulder. “He’s right, though. If you like her, you’ve gotta stop acting like a brooding asshole and actually talk to her. You’re good with words when you want to be.”

“Yeah, but not like that,” Seungmin mutters, crossing his arms. “What the fuck do I even say? ‘Hey, I’ve been thinking about you a lot and it’s annoying as fuck, so maybe we should go out?’”

Minho bursts out laughing, nearly falling off the couch. “That’s... wow. No. Don’t say that.”

Chan shakes his head, biting back his own laughter. “Just be honest, man. You don’t have to make it weird. She’s the type who’d appreciate the truth.”

Seungmin sighs, tipping his head back against the chair. “What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I just fuck it all up?”

Minho snorts. “Then at least you’ll know instead of sitting here stewing like a fucking idiot. Either way, it’s a win for me. Free entertainment.”

“Go to hell, Minho,” Seungmin mutters, running a hand through his hair.

Chan chuckles, his voice softer now. “You’ll figure it out, Seungmin. Just don’t overthink it. You’re not as bad at this stuff as you think.”

Minho hops off the couch with a shit-eating grin. “And if you fuck it up? Well, we’ll all be here to laugh about it.”

Seungmin sighs heavily, standing and heading for the kitchen. “You’re all fucking insufferable.”

In the kitchen, he grabs a beer from the fridge and twists the cap off, taking a long swig before leaning against the counter. Minho and Chan follow him, their shit-eating grins still firmly in place.

“So,” Minho begins, hopping onto the counter and dangling his legs like a kid on a swing. “What’s the grand plan, Romeo?”

“There is no fucking plan,” Seungmin mutters. “I’ll keep helping her with her project and hope I don’t make things weird.”

Chan raises an eyebrow. “That’s not a plan. That’s avoidance.”

“Thanks for the analysis, Freud,” Seungmin deadpans, taking another swig of his beer.

Minho nudges him with his foot. “You like her. Just admit it to yourself and do something about it. Don’t be a coward.”

Seungmin sighs again, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I’m not a coward. I just don’t want to fuck up something good, alright?”

Chan claps him on the back. “Then don’t. Keep it simple. Honest. She’ll appreciate that more than anything.”

Minho grins smugly. “And if she doesn’t? Well, at least we’ll have fun watching you crash and burn.”

Seungmin glares at him, but the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth betrays him. “Go fuck yourself, Minho.”

Minho smirks. “Already planned for later.”

Seungmin groans, pushing off the counter and heading for the stairs. “You’re fucking unbearable.”

Minho’s laughter and Chan’s chuckling follow him as he heads back to his room, but even with their teasing, Seungmin feels a little lighter. Maybe, just maybe, he can figure this out.

The low whir of Seungmin’s fan hums through the room as you sit cross-legged on his bed, your laptop balanced precariously on your thighs. Stacks of old books are scattered around you, a testament to the marathon research session you’ve been enduring. The late afternoon sun filters through the blinds, casting soft golden streaks across the room. You’re wearing a light summer dress, its fabric brushing against your skin as you adjust your position, the hem barely brushing mid-thigh. Strands of your hair have slipped out of the clip holding it back, framing your face as you squint at your screen.

At his desk, Seungmin leans back in his chair, his black sweatpants and tight tank top clinging to his frame in the warm room. One hand flips through a heavy book on Tudor history, the other absently twirling a pen. His brow furrows in concentration, but every so often, his gaze flicks to you. Curious, amused, unreadable.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “So,” he starts, his voice slicing through the hum of the fan, “have you talked to Hyunjin yet?”

Your fingers pause mid-typing, and you glance up, blinking. “Uh, no. I don’t think I need to. It’s not really a big deal.”

Seungmin’s pen drops to the desk with a loud clink, and he swivels to face you, his expression flat but his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, sure. Not a big deal. He slacks off, you do all the work, and he gets to keep floating through life like a fucking golden retriever on vacation. Totally fine.”

You shake your head, a soft laugh escaping despite yourself. “He didn’t mean to slack off. He’s just... busy.”

“With what? Pouting for his Instagram stories?” Seungmin leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. His sharp eyes glint with mockery. “Come on, Y/N. Don’t let him off the hook so easily. I could shave one of his eyebrows off.”

You laugh again, waving him off. “Seungmin, no. It’s fine, really. I’ll just finish the project, and we’ll move on.”

“Yeah, no.” He stands abruptly, his chair squeaking against the floor. “That’s not happening. Get up.”

You blink at him, confused. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to teach you the art of confrontation,” he says, walking over to you with an air of finality. He holds out a hand, clearly expecting you to take it. “And before you say anything, no, you don’t get a choice.”

You lean back, groaning. “Oh no. I’m bad at that. Absolutely not.”

“Exactly why we’re doing this.” He grabs your hand, his grip firm but not forceful, and pulls you to your feet.

The movement sends your laptop sliding precariously to the side of the bed, and you hastily catch it before steadying yourself. Your dress brushes against his sweatpants, and for a moment, his hands linger on yours, warm and steady.

“I already hate this,” you mutter, pouting.

“That’s the spirit,” he quips, smirking. He takes a step back, crossing his arms as he looks you up and down. “Alright. Repeat after me. Hyunjin, you’re a selfish asshole, and your hair isn’t even that great.”

Your eyes widen, and you shake your head frantically. “I can’t say that! What if he hears me?”

“Good,” Seungmin says, his smirk widening. “Maybe he’ll learn something.”

You laugh nervously, covering your face with your hands. “This feels so wrong.”

Seungmin sighs dramatically, stepping closer and gently tugging your hands down. “I was prepared for this,” he says, his voice carrying a note of triumph. He walks to his closet, rummaging around until he pulls out a dartboard with a photo of Hyunjin’s grinning face pinned dead centre.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, your jaw dropping as you stare at it.

“It’s modular,” Seungmin says nonchalantly, holding it up. “I’ve got all the guys’ faces in here. They piss me off in cycles.”

“This is insane,” you say, barely stifling your laughter as he hangs the dartboard on his door.

“It’s cathartic,” he corrects, tossing a dart into your hand. “Go on. Aim for the pretty boy’s stupid smile.”

You hesitate, holding the dart awkwardly. “I’ve never thrown a dart in my life.”

“Not fucking rocket science,” he says, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “Just throw it. Let your rage guide you.”

Rolling your eyes but laughing, you square your shoulders and toss the dart. It bounces off the board and clatters to the floor with an anticlimactic thunk. Your cheeks heat up as you bury your face in your hands.

“Jesus Christ,” Seungmin mutters, pushing off the wall and walking over to you. “Alright, rookie. Relax. You’re trying too hard.”

He steps behind you, his hands gently resting on your arms and you feel your breath catch slightly as he leans in, his voice low and soft.

“Breathe,” he murmurs, his thumbs brushing your forearms lightly. “Loosen up. You’re not throwing a grenade.”

You nod, trying to ignore how close he is, or the way his cologne lingers, sharp and clean. “Okay. Relax. Got it.”

“Good,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Now, aim. And don’t overthink it this time. Just let it go.”

With his guidance, you throw the dart again. It sticks in the board, just outside Hyunjin’s cheek. Your eyes widen in surprise, and you turn to look at Seungmin with a triumphant grin.

“See?” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Not so bad.”

You laugh, the tension from earlier dissolving. “Okay, that was kind of fun.”

“Kind of?” He raises an eyebrow, feigning offence. “It’s the best fucking stress relief there is. Try again.”

Grinning, you grab another dart and throw it. It lands even closer to the centre, and you let out a delighted cheer.

“Nice,” Seungmin says, nodding approvingly. “You’re a natural. Hyunjin should be scared.”

As you line up another shot, Seungmin leans back against the wall, arms crossed. There’s a softness in his expression now, a flicker of something he doesn’t let show often. Watching you laugh and let loose feels oddly satisfying.

“Alright,” you say, aiming carefully. “What do I get if I hit his stupid grin?”

“A medal for bravery,” Seungmin deadpans, but his smirk betrays his amusement.

You throw the dart, and it lands just shy of the photo’s centre. Laughing, you turn to him with a mock pout. “I want a rematch.”

“You’re not ready for that kind of pressure,” he says, his tone teasing but warm.

And for the first time all day, the weight of your project and the tension with Hyunjin feel far away. In this room, with Seungmin, all that exists is the laughter, the easy banter, and the flicker of something unspoken in the air between you.

The sun dips low, casting a warm, golden hue over the Alpha Phi house as you neatly pack up your things in Seungmin’s room. The quiet scratch of your pen against paper, the occasional tap of your laptop’s keyboard, and the hum of his fan have created a soothing rhythm all afternoon. Now, as you finish jotting down the last of your citations, you stack your books and papers into an organized pile.

Seungmin leans back in his chair, his legs stretched out and his dark eyes lazily tracking your movements. A pen twirls effortlessly between his fingers, his expression calm but sharp—like he’s quietly taking in more than he lets on.

“Leaving already?” he asks, his tone casual but carrying a note of something you can’t quite place.

You glance up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, I’ve got to get ready. I have a date tonight.”

The words hit like a brick, and Seungmin freezes for half a second before resuming the pen twirl, though his fingers grip it a little too tightly. His face remains neutral, but his jaw ticks slightly.

“A date?” he says, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

You nod, slipping your laptop into your bag. “Yeah, Minho introduced me to a guy in his class. Animal behaviour or something? He seems nice.”

His forced smile cracks for a moment, but he patches it quickly. “Nice,” he echoes, leaning forward in his chair. “That’s… great.”

The silence lingers, awkward and heavy. You tilt your head at him, your soft gaze curious. “Are you okay?”

“Me? Fine,” he says quickly, too quickly, sitting up straighter. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You frown slightly, unconvinced, but you let it go, offering him a gentle smile. “Thanks for all your help today, Seungmin. I really appreciate it.”

He nods stiffly, watching you head for the door. His chest feels tight, like someone’s wrapped a steel band around it. When the door clicks shut behind you, he lets out a low, frustrated sigh and tosses the pen onto his desk.

A beat passes before he’s on his feet, striding purposefully down the hall toward Minho’s room.

Minho’s door is ajar, soft music filtering out as Seungmin pushes it open without knocking. Minho is sprawled on his bed, headphones around his neck, scrolling through his phone with his usual smug expression. Minho barely has time to look up before Seungmin grabs a pillow from the bed and swings it at him with alarming force.

“What the fuck?!” Minho yells, his phone flying from his hand as he scrambles to defend himself.

“You!” Seungmin growls, punctuating each word with a swing of the pillow. “Fucking introduced her. To. A. Guy?!”

Minho bursts into laughter, raising his arms to shield himself. “It’s incentive, Seungminnie!” he cackles, gasping between laughs. “You needed a push!”

“I don’t need a fucking push!” Seungmin snaps, hitting him even harder.

Minho tries to sit up, still laughing despite the onslaught. “You’re so fucking obvious- Ow! Stop, you lunatic!”

“Good!” Seungmin barks, his voice sharp as he lands another hit. “Maybe next time you’ll keep your matchmaking bullshit to yourself!”

The commotion attracts Chan, who appears in the doorway with his arms crossed and an amused look on his face. “What’s going on here?”

“I’m smothering Minho,” Seungmin says flatly, not even looking up as he presses the pillow down over Minho’s face.

Chan nods approvingly, stepping into the room. “Good. Carry on. You’re doing the lord’s work.”

Seungmin lets out a humourless laugh, pressing the pillow down harder as Minho’s muffled protests grow louder. “I know, right? Someone’s gotta do it.”

“While you’re at it,” Chan says casually, leaning against the doorframe, “make sure he can’t reproduce. The last thing we need is a mini Minho terrorizing the campus.”

Minho’s muffled yell rises to a panicked pitch as Seungmin shifts his weight, digging a knee into Minho’s crotch. The resulting strangled groan is enough to make Chan burst into laughter. “Jesus Christ, Seungmin,” Chan says, shaking his head. “You’re fucking ruthless.”

“Yeah, well,” Seungmin mutters, his tone clipped. “He fucking deserves it.”

Minho finally manages to yank the pillow away, his face red and his hair a mess as he glares up at Seungmin. “You’re a psycho!”

“And you’re a fucking meddler,” Seungmin snaps, tossing the pillow back onto the bed. “What the hell were you thinking, setting her up with some random guy?”

Minho sits up, rubbing his face. “I was helping! You’re clearly into her but too chickenshit to do anything about it!”

“I didn’t fucking ask for your help!” Seungmin snaps, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

Chan raises a hand, stepping between them with a smirk. “Alright, let’s all take a deep breath. Minho’s an idiot, but he’s not wrong. You’re jealous, Seungmin. Just admit it.”

Seungmin glares at him, his jaw clenching. “So what if I am? What am I supposed to do about it, huh? March up to her and say, ‘Hey, I think about you way too much, and it’s driving me fucking insane?’”

“Honestly? Yeah,” Chan says, shrugging. “She’s sweet. She won’t bite your head off.”

Minho smirks, leaning back against the headboard. “And if she says no, at least you’ll have closure. Better than sitting here brooding like some tragic fucking Byronic hero.”

“Fuck off,” Seungmin mutters, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

Chan claps him on the shoulder. “You’ve got this, man. Just be honest. It’s not as scary as you’re making it out to be.”

Seungmin huffs, glancing between them. He hates that they’re right. The thought of you with someone else already twists his stomach into knots, and the idea of doing nothing feels even worse.

Without another word, he storms out of the room, leaving Chan and Minho grinning behind him.

“Think he’ll do it?” Chan asks, leaning against the wall.

Minho snorts, rubbing his sore ribs. “Oh, he’ll do it. Or he’ll self-destruct. Either way, we win.”

Their laughter follows Seungmin down the hall, but for once, he doesn’t care. He’s got bigger things to worry about and her name is Y/N.

The Alpha Phi living room is a vortex of noise and chaos. The mismatched couches are packed with bodies. Jeongin and Felix are loudly arguing over the outcome of a video game, their hands flailing in exaggerated gestures, while Jisung lies sprawled on the floor, chip crumbs scattered around him like evidence of a crime. The massive TV blares the commentary of a football game, its volume competing with the general din. Minho is perched half-asleep on the armrest of the couch, his cherry-red hair a mess from running his fingers through it repeatedly, while Chan sits cross-legged on the floor, calmly trying to fix the connection on a janky Bluetooth speaker.

Seungmin reclines in the worn recliner, scrolling idly on his phone, tuning out the noise with practised ease. His legs are stretched out, and his dark eyes are fixed on the screen in front of him. It’s an average evening in the house, loud, chaotic, and comfortably predictable.

Until his phone rings.

The name flashing on the screen makes him sit up so abruptly that the chair creaks. He immediately presses the green button, his heart rate kicking up as he brings the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” His voice is calm, but there’s a sharp edge of alertness in it.

A soft sniffle echoes on the other end of the line, and every muscle in Seungmin’s body goes taut. “Seungmin,” your voice breaks, trembling and fragile, and it’s enough to make his blood run cold. “I—I didn’t know who else to call. He… he was awful. I just- I’m so sorry-”

“Hey,” Seungmin cuts in, his voice firm but gentle. “Stop apologizing. Just breathe, okay? Tell me where you are.”

Your breathing is shaky, but you manage to get the words out. “That sushi place near campus. I’m in the bathroom. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You did the right thing,” he says, already slipping his boots on with one hand and gesturing wildly at Minho with the other. “Stay there. Don’t leave the bathroom until Minho and I get there. We’re coming to get you.”

“Okay,” you whisper, barely audible, and the line goes quiet.

Seungmin stands, his movements quick and purposeful. “Minho. Shoes. Now. You’re driving.”

Minho’s lazy posture vanishes as he sits up, alert. “What? Why? What’s going on?”

“Y/N,” Seungmin says sharply, grabbing his jacket. “She’s in trouble.”

The room quiets instantly. Jeongin and Felix stop arguing mid-sentence, their heads snapping toward Seungmin. Jisung sits up from the floor, the chips forgotten. Even Chan abandons the Bluetooth speaker, standing with his arms crossed and his face serious.

“Fuck,” Minho mutters, pulling on his shoes. “What kind of trouble?”

“She’s at the sushi place,” Seungmin says, his tone tight. “And it’s because of the guy you introduced her to.”

Minho’s face falls, guilt flashing across his features. “Shit.”

“Yeah. Shit,” Seungmin snaps, already halfway to the door. “Now move.”

The drive to the restaurant is tense. Seungmin sits in the passenger seat, his foot tapping a relentless rhythm against the floor. He checks his phone every thirty seconds, the tight line of his jaw only softening when he glances at the screen and sees no new messages. Minho keeps his focus on the road, his hands gripping the wheel tighter than usual.

When they pull into the parking lot, Seungmin is out of the car before it even comes to a full stop. His sharp gaze sweeps across the glass front of the restaurant. Through the window, he spots the guy sitting at a table, casually scrolling through his phone as if nothing’s wrong. Seungmin’s blood boils.

Minho sees him too, muttering a low “Fuck” under his breath. “I’ll handle him,” he says, his voice hard. He pushes the car door open and strides toward the entrance, his usually laid-back demeanour replaced with something cold and dangerous.

Seungmin doesn’t wait to see what Minho does next. His focus is on you. He heads straight for the bathrooms at the back of the restaurant, his boots thudding heavily against the tile floor. Stopping just outside the door, he takes a deep breath before knocking softly.

“It’s me,” he says, his voice gentler now. “You can come out.”

There’s a long pause, followed by the faint sound of shuffling. The door creaks open slowly, and you step out. Your eyes are red and puffy, tear tracks glistening on your cheeks. Your arms are wrapped tightly around yourself, your whole frame trembling slightly.

The second you see him, something in you breaks. You step forward and bury your face in his chest, your hands clutching his jacket like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Seungmin freezes for a split second, his eyes wide with surprise. Then his arms wrap around you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other presses against your back, holding you close. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady. “You’re okay now. I’ve got you.”

You don’t say anything, but your fingers grip his jacket tighter, and your trembling becomes more pronounced. He holds you like that for what feels like forever, his heart pounding as he tries to stay calm for you.

When you finally pull back slightly, he keeps his hands on your shoulders, his dark eyes searching your face. “You’re safe,” he says, his voice firm but soft. “I promise. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Your lips tremble as you nod, but you still can’t bring yourself to speak. Seungmin brushes a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch careful, grounding. “Do you want to tell me what happened? Or do you just want to leave?”

“Leave,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“Alright,” he says without hesitation. “Let’s go.”

He keeps a protective arm around you as he guides you out of the restaurant. As you pass through the dining area, his sharp gaze finds Minho, who is standing over the guy’s table, his expression icy and his arms crossed. The guy is slouched in his chair, looking decidedly less cocky than before, and Seungmin feels a flicker of satisfaction at the sight.

Outside, Minho’s car is waiting. Seungmin opens the back door for you, helping you in before sliding in beside you. Minho climbs into the driver’s seat a moment later, his face pale but his expression grim.

“Where to?” Minho asks, his voice quieter than usual.

“Back to the house,” Seungmin says firmly. “She’s staying with us tonight.”

Minho nods, starting the car without another word.

In the backseat, you lean against Seungmin’s shoulder, your body still trembling slightly. He doesn’t say anything, just rubs slow, soothing circles on your back with one hand, his touch steady and reassuring. The warmth of his presence and the quiet strength in his gestures begin to ease the tension in your chest, bit by bit.

The drive back to the Alpha Phi house is suffocatingly quiet. Minho’s hands grip the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white, his jaw clenched like he’s holding back a thousand words. In the backseat, Seungmin sits close beside you, one hand resting on your knee, steady and firm. It’s not invasive, not demanding. It’s just there, a silent promise of safety.

Your head leans against his shoulder, your breath shaky but starting to even out. He hasn’t said much since getting you out of the restaurant, but his presence is enough. When the car pulls into the driveway, the headlights casting long shadows against the house’s worn exterior, Seungmin nudges you gently.

“We’re here,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost soothing.

You sit up, your movements sluggish, and Seungmin is already out of the car, holding the door open for you. He offers you his hand, and you take it without hesitation, your fingers trembling slightly in his firm grasp.

Minho hesitates by the car, glancing between you and Seungmin with guilt written all over his face. “Do you need—”

“No,” Seungmin cuts him off sharply, his glare like a blade. “Just... go inside.”

Minho opens his mouth to argue but thinks better of it, nodding stiffly and heading up the steps without another word.

Seungmin keeps his arm around you as he guides you toward the house. The muffled sound of laughter and chatter spills out the windows, but the moment the two of you step through the front door, it dies like a switch has been flipped.

Jeongin, mid-laugh, stops abruptly, his expression shifting to confusion and concern. Felix, perched on the back of the couch, opens his mouth to say something, but Seungmin’s sharp glare silences him instantly.

“Not now,” Seungmin says, his tone flat but carrying an unmistakable edge of authority.

The room goes completely silent, everyone exchanging uneasy glances as Seungmin leads you upstairs. His grip on your shoulder remains steady, a grounding force as you ascend the creaky steps. You barely register the concerned murmurs behind you, too focused on the warmth of his touch and the growing knot in your chest.

When you reach his room, Seungmin pushes the door open and gently guides you inside. The familiar scent of his cologne wraps around you, grounding you further. He closes the door with a soft click, shutting out the world, and turns to face you.

You stand in the middle of the room, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. The dam you’ve been holding back all night finally breaks, and a small sob escapes before you can stop it.

“Hey,” Seungmin says softly, stepping closer. He sits on the edge of the bed, patting the space beside him. “Come here.”

You hesitate, fiddling with the hem of your dress. “I—”

“Y/N,” he interrupts, his tone gentle but firm. “Come here.”

You move slowly, sitting beside him. The second you’re close enough, he pulls you into his side, one arm draped securely around your shoulders. His warmth seeps into you, steadying your ragged breathing.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” he asks after a moment, his voice quieter now. “Or we can just sit here. Your call.”

You swallow hard, nodding slightly. “I- I tried to call the date off,” you start, your voice trembling. “I just- he wasn’t what I wanted. And when I told him that, he got-” Your breath hitches, and you shake your head, trying to steady yourself. “He started touching me. Grabbing me. I- I didn’t like it. I told him to stop, but he just laughed, and I panicked. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Seungmin’s entire body goes rigid beside you. His arm tightens protectively, and his jaw clenches so hard you can hear his teeth grind. “That piece of shit,” he mutters under his breath, his tone low and venomous.

You glance up at him, your eyes wide and glossy. “Maybe I overreacted,” you say quickly, your voice defensive as though you’re bracing for judgment. “Maybe I just-”

“No,” Seungmin cuts in, his voice sharp. He shifts to face you fully, his hands gripping your shoulders gently but firmly. “Don’t fucking do that, Y/N. Don’t blame yourself. If you were uncomfortable, then you were uncomfortable. That’s it. No one gets to fucking touch you without your consent.”

His words make your chest tighten, but in a different way. A warmth spreads through you, breaking through the lingering fear. “Thank you,” you whisper.

Seungmin’s gaze softens, his hands sliding down to your elbows. He exhales slowly like he’s forcing himself to calm down. “You deserve better than that,” he says quietly. “Better than some asshole who doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.”

“He wasn’t you, Seungmin,” you say before you can stop yourself.

The room goes still, the weight of your words hanging in the air between you. Seungmin’s eyes widen slightly, the sharpness in his expression giving way to something warmer, something softer.

“Good,” he says after a beat, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He pulls you into a tight hug, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head. “Because I’d never fucking treat you like that.”

You bury your face in his chest, letting his steady heartbeat and the warmth of his arms melt away the last traces of fear. For the first time all night, you feel like you can breathe again.

After a while, Seungmin pulls back slightly, one hand lingering on your shoulder. “You know,” he says, his tone lighter now, “Minho owes you a massive apology. I say we make him grovel.”

You let out a shaky laugh, wiping at your eyes. “It’s not his fault.”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow. “Sure, but letting him squirm a little wouldn’t hurt.”

You laugh again, stronger this time. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he says with a smirk. Then his expression softens, and he leans forward slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. “Hey. I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“What?” you ask, tilting your head.

He hesitates for half a second, then his lips curl into a faint smile. “Go out with me. Let me take you on a real date.”

Your breath catches, your heart thudding in your chest. “You mean that?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice low but steady. “I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while. I just didn’t know how.”

A small smile spreads across your face. “I’d like that.”

Seungmin’s shoulders relax, the tension he’s been carrying all night finally easing. “Good,” he says, his smile widening. “Because I’ve been waiting for an excuse to make a move.”

You laugh softly, the sound bright and genuine. “You’re not very subtle, you know.”

He groans, rolling his eyes. “Don’t rub it in.”

“Cool and mysterious,” you tease, leaning a little closer. “Not exactly your vibe.”

Seungmin snorts, but the warmth in his gaze doesn’t waver. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Yeah,” you say, your smile softening. “I know.”

The quiet knock on the door is hesitant, a rare sound from someone like Minho. Before either of you can respond, it creaks open, revealing him standing there in sweats and a hoodie that’s slightly too big for him. His cherry-red hair is a mess, like he’s spent the last hour running his hands through it in frustration. His usual cocky smirk is absent, replaced by something far more uncertain—almost guilty.

Seungmin’s eyes narrow, though he doesn’t move from where he’s perched on the bed beside you, his arm loosely draped behind your back. “What do you want?” he asks, his tone clipped.

Minho hesitates in the doorway, his eyes flicking between you and Seungmin. His hands stay buried in his pockets, his shoulders slouched as if he’s bracing for impact. “I’m… fuck, I’m sorry,” he mutters, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t fucking know he was going to be like that. I just thought—shit, I thought I was helping.”

You exchange a quick glance with Seungmin, who huffs but doesn’t say anything. Slowly, you stand and cross the room toward Minho, ignoring the way his eyes widen slightly in surprise. Before he can protest or retreat, you wrap your arms around him and pull him into a hug.

Minho stiffens for a moment, caught off guard, but then he melts into the embrace with a sigh, resting his chin on your shoulder. His arms come up, circling your waist with a grip that’s firmer than you expect—like he’s the one who needs comforting.

“I know,” you say softly, your voice muffled against the fabric of his hoodie. “It’s okay. You didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Minho lets out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Still. I feel like a fucking asshole.”

“You’re not,” you say firmly, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “I think you scared him off, anyway.”

Minho smirks faintly, though the guilt still lingers in his eyes. “Good,” he mutters. “But I’m gonna fight him. Just so you know. That prick doesn’t get to pull that shit and walk away.”

“Do what you need to,” you reply softly, resting a hand on his arm.

His smirk falters, and his grip tightens almost imperceptibly. “You’re too fucking nice,” he mutters, his voice low and rough. “You know that?”

“Minho,” you wheeze dramatically, giggling weakly as his hold becomes borderline crushing. “Can’t breathe.”

“Shut up,” Minho says, though his tone is lighter now. “I’m processing being wrong, and I’m not taking it well.”

Seungmin snorts loudly from the bed, crossing his arms as he leans back against the headboard. “Never thought I’d see the day,” he says dryly. “Minho, wrong about something? Someone call the press.”

You laugh again, a little stronger this time, and Minho scowls over your shoulder. “You’re fucking enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Seungmin replies without hesitation, his smirk sharp.

Minho pulls back from the hug, ruffling his already messy hair with a groan. “This is a disaster. I try to help, and it just blows up in my face. I should’ve known you were too much of a coward to ask her out on your own.”

“Here we fucking go,” Seungmin mutters, rolling his eyes.

Minho points an accusatory finger at him. “You. This is partly your fault. If you’d just grown a pair and asked her out, I wouldn’t have had to intervene!”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “And your intervention led to exactly what? A shitshow?”

Minho throws up his hands. “I’ll admit it! I fucked up, alright? But don’t act like you didn’t need the nudge.”

Seungmin leans forward slightly, his voice razor-sharp. “Next time, keep your fucking nudges to yourself.”

“Boys,” you interject softly, your tone patient but firm. Both of them snap their attention back to you, and you give Minho a small, reassuring smile. “It’s okay. Really. No one’s perfect, Minho.”

Minho looks at you, his expression softening further. He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Seriously, though. If you need anything—anything at all—you come to me. I don’t care what it is, okay?”

You nod, your smile warm. “I will. Thanks, Minho.”

He leans down slightly, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. His voice drops to a low, serious tone. “I mean it, Y/N. I’ll fight anyone for you. Literally anyone.”

“I know,” you whisper, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his words. “But I think you’ve done enough for tonight.”

Minho straightens up with a sigh, ruffling your hair playfully. “Fine. But if that prick so much as breathes in your direction again, he’s dead.”

Seungmin chuckles from the bed, shaking his head. “You’ll have to get in line for that, Minho.”

Minho smirks, turning back to him. “Big talk from the guy who’s been dragging his feet all fucking semester. Don’t get all protective now—you’ve got a date to plan.”

Seungmin flips him off without missing a beat, and Minho’s grin widens. You can’t help but laugh, the tension in the room finally dissolving as they slip back into their usual banter.

For the first time all night, everything feels like it might actually be okay.

The hum of the city murmurs faintly in the background as you linger outside your apartment building, your phone clutched loosely in one hand. The early evening air is warm, carrying the faint tang of gasoline and asphalt. The golden glow of the setting sun drenches everything in soft, honeyed light. You catch your reflection in a nearby window and smooth down the strap of your yellow bustier crop top. The fabric hugs you snugly, the bright color contrasting against your black flared pants, which sway lightly in the warm breeze. Your black Converse scuff against the pavement as you shift your weight nervously.

The distant growl of an engine draws your attention, low and throaty, vibrating through the air. You glance up as a sleek black motorbike rounds the corner, Seungmin perched effortlessly on top like he was born there. The machine glints in the fading sunlight, polished but clearly well-loved, with just enough wear to make it look lived-in. Seungmin slows the bike as he approaches, and your breath catches at the sight of him.

He’s dressed head to toe in black, cargo trousers that hang low on his hips, a fitted black t-shirt that clings to his lean frame, a well-worn leather jacket zipped halfway, and scuffed boots that look like they’ve seen more road than carpet. His hair is slightly tousled from the wind, and there’s a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he kills the engine and kicks the stand down.

“Holy shit,” you breathe, stepping closer as the silence rushes in to fill the space the engine left behind. “You didn’t tell me you had a motorbike.”

Seungmin swings his leg off with ease, the motion fluid and confident. His boots hit the pavement with a satisfying thud as he straightens up, shrugging casually. “Not something I go around broadcasting,” he says, his tone dry but tinged with amusement. “But I figured it’d make a decent first date impression.”

“Decent?” you echo, your eyes wide and sparkling. “Seungmin, this is fucking unreal.”

His smirk deepens, and he reaches behind the seat, pulling out a smaller leather jacket. He holds it out to you, his fingers brushing yours briefly as you take it. “Jisung’s,” he explains. “Figured you’d need one. You’re about the same size, and he won’t notice it’s missing for at least a week.”

You shrug the jacket on, the leather slightly oversized but warm and reassuring. “It’s perfect,” you say, zipping it up. “Jisung has surprisingly good taste.”

Seungmin chuckles, then picks up the helmet hanging from the handlebars. He steps closer, his movements deliberate as he gently places it over your head. “Hold still,” he murmurs, his voice dropping a notch. His fingers brush against your jaw as he fastens the strap under your chin, his touch light but lingering. Once the helmet is secure, he pulls back, his dark eyes meeting yours through the visor. “Ready?”

You nod eagerly, your pulse quickening. “Hell yes.”

He grins, climbing back onto the bike and steadying it with ease. He gestures for you to climb on, his smirk playful. “Hop on, daredevil.”

You swing your leg over the seat carefully, your movements slightly hesitant as you settle in behind him. The leather of his jacket is cool against your palms as you wrap your arms around his waist. You feel the firm press of his body beneath your hands, steady and grounding.

“How fast do you want to go?” he asks, glancing back at you over his shoulder, his voice muffled but clear.

You lean closer, your voice daring and breathless. “Fast enough to feel like we’re fucking flying.”

His smirk turns almost wicked, and he nods. “Alright. Hold on tight.”

The bike roars to life beneath you, the deep rumble reverberating through your legs and chest. You tighten your grip on Seungmin’s waist as he pulls onto the street, the bike purring as it eases into motion. The city blurs past, a kaleidoscope of lights and colours, as Seungmin weaves through traffic with effortless precision. The wind rushes against you, tugging at the loose strands of your hair that escape from the helmet.

You laugh, the sound bubbling out of you like champagne, light and effervescent. “This is fucking insane!” you shout, your voice barely audible over the wind.

Seungmin glances at you in the rearview mirror, his grin sharp and full of exhilaration. “You good back there?” he calls.

“Never better!” you reply, tightening your hold on him as he picks up speed.

The city begins to thin, the towering buildings giving way to open stretches of road. The air cools as the sun dips lower, painting the sky in streaks of deep orange and fiery pink. Seungmin leans into the curves of the road, his movements fluid, the bike responding to him like an extension of his body. You cling to him, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Faster?” he calls over his shoulder, his voice teasing but tinged with excitement.

“Y!” you shout back, your voice full of laughter.

He obliges, twisting the throttle and sending the bike surging forward. The wind whips past you, the world blurring into streaks of colour and motion. For a moment, it feels like nothing else exists. Just the bike, the open road, and Seungmin’s steady presence.

Eventually, Seungmin slows the bike, pulling onto a quiet stretch of road lined with tall trees. He kills the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening after the rush of the ride. He flips up his visor, glancing back at you with a smirk.

“Still breathing?” he asks, his tone light and teasing.

You pull off the helmet, shaking out your hair as you catch your breath. “Barely. That was incredible.”

He chuckles, leaning back slightly as he watches you with a mixture of amusement and something softer. “Glad you liked it.”

“Liked it?” you repeat, your grin wide. “Seungmin, that is the best fucking date of my life.”

His smirk softens into a genuine smile, and he reaches out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Good,” he murmurs. “That was the goal.”

The sky above has deepened into twilight, the first stars beginning to dot the horizon. You tilt your head back, taking in the clear expanse, the cool night air brushing against your skin. Beside you, Seungmin shifts slightly, resting his elbows on the handlebars as he watches you.

“You’re something else,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a note of awe.

You glance at him, your cheeks warming at the sincerity in his gaze. “So are you, Seungmin.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, but I think you’ve got me beat.”

You laugh softly, leaning closer to him, the warmth of his presence chasing away the lingering coolness of the air. “Guess we’ll call it a tie.”

His grin returns, sharp and playful. “Deal. But only because it’s you.”

The air between you feels charged, the adrenaline from the ride mingling with something deeper, more electric. Seungmin's eyes meet yours, and without hesitation, his hands find your waist, his grip firm but grounding as he lifts you gently off the bike and sets you down. The world feels steady beneath your feet, but your heart is anything but.

“Come here,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, a sound that sends a shiver coursing through your spine.

Before you can respond, his hand slides to the small of your back, tugging you closer. His other hand tangles in your hair, tilting your face toward his. The heat of his body presses into you as he dips you slightly, his lips crashing into yours with an urgency that leaves you breathless. The kiss is searing, unrestrained. Like he’s been holding himself back for far too long and has finally decided to let go. His fingers tighten in your hair, and the hand on your back presses you flush against him, eliminating any space.

Your hands fly to his chest instinctively, gripping the fabric of his t-shirt as you melt into him. The faint scent of leather, wind, and his cologne surrounds you, intoxicating and grounding all at once. His lips are soft yet demanding, each movement carrying the weight of everything he hasn’t said out loud. The cool night air bites at your skin, but it’s drowned out by the fire between you.

When he finally pulls back, his lips linger close to yours, his breath warm against your skin. His thumb brushes against your waist absentmindedly, and his eyes, dark and intense, lock onto yours. A grin slowly spreads across his face, equal parts smug and genuinely amused. “You’re gonna have to hang on tighter than that for the ride back to the frat,” he teases, his voice roughened with desire.

You let out a soft laugh, still catching your breath as you clutch his jacket for balance. “I think I can manage,” you say, your voice softer than usual but no less sure. “I’ve got my very own speed demon. How could I say no?”

His grin widens, that slightly cocky, slightly boyish charm making your stomach flip. “Damn right you do,” he mutters, leaning in to steal another kiss, this one quick and playful but no less electrifying.

He steps back reluctantly, letting out a breath as if steadying himself, before turning to grab your helmet from the bike. “Helmet back on, daredevil,” he says, his voice light but still carrying that teasing edge.

You tilt your head as he steps closer, holding the helmet up for you. “Oh, you’re worried about safety?” you tease, but you stand still as he slides the helmet over your head with careful hands.

His fingers brush against your jaw as he adjusts the strap under your chin, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “Gotta keep you alive,” he says with a smirk. “Wouldn’t be much of a date if you died halfway through.”

You laugh, the sound muffled by the helmet but no less genuine. “Fair point.”

Once the helmet is secure, he tilts the visor down, his dark eyes crinkling slightly with amusement as he steps back. “More Tudor art when we get back?” he asks, his tone casual but his gaze still holding that spark of mischief.

You pretend to think, tapping your finger against the helmet. “Depends. Are you going to admit that Anne Boleyn was a badass?”

“For you?” he says, his smirk softening into something more sincere. “I’ll admit anything.”

Your laugh echoes in the cool night air as you climb back onto the bike, wrapping your arms around his waist again. This time, your grip is tighter, not just because of the ride but because you don’t want to let go.

Seungmin revs the engine, the deep, throaty growl vibrating through your chest. He glances over his shoulder, his voice carrying over the roar. “Ready?”

“Always,” you say, your voice steady despite the helmet.

He grins, twisting the throttle, and the bike surges forward, cutting through the night like a blade. The city lights blur around you as Seungmin navigates the streets with the same effortless confidence as before, but this time, the ride feels different. It’s not just adrenaline now—it’s something more grounded, more connected. Each twist and turn feels like a shared secret, the warmth of his body steadying you as the wind rushes past.

As the city falls behind you, replaced by quiet streets and patches of open road, the sky above deepens into twilight. The stars begin to peek through the inky blackness, their faint light mirrored in the shimmering horizon ahead. You press yourself closer to Seungmin, the steady rhythm of his breathing grounding you even as the bike picks up speed.

When the lights of the frat house finally come into view, you feel a pang of regret that the ride is almost over. The bike slows as Seungmin pulls smoothly into the driveway, the rumble of the engine fading as he cuts the power. He kicks down the stand and turns to you, his grin still firmly in place.

“Still breathing?” he asks, his voice teasing as he removes his helmet.

You pull off your helmet, your hair tumbling out in a mess of strands. “Barely,” you reply, laughing softly. “But that was fucking worth it.”

He chuckles, watching you with a mixture of amusement and something softer. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Takes one to know one,” you fire back, your smile widening.

Seungmin shakes his head, clearly trying not to laugh, and steps closer to help you off the bike. His hands find your waist again, steadying you as your feet hit the ground. This time, his touch lingers, his dark eyes scanning your face as if committing every detail to memory.

“Ready to dive back into Tudor art?” he asks, his tone teasing but affectionate.

You roll your eyes, a laugh bubbling out of you. “You’re ridiculous.”

“For you?” he says, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Always.”

You shake your head, biting back a grin, and follow him toward the house. The warm glow of the frat house lights spills out onto the driveway, and as you step inside, you feel the lingering coolness of the night disappear entirely. With Seungmin by your side, everything feels exactly as it should.

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #skz x you #skz x y/n #stray kids x you #frat skz #skz au #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin x y/n #kim seungmin x you #seungmin x reader #seungmin x y/n #seungmin x you #skz imagines #skz fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids au #frat seungmin

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yandere-daydreams · 8 months ago

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Do you machine sew or like hand sew ? I had tried to hand sew once .... sprained my wrist and had a headache for a week.

i used to hand sew everything bc i was deathly afraid of sewing machines, but it always took too long to be function and left me with calloused fingers + a sore wrist,,, i have since Befriended the machine and am currently much happier with far fewer injuries. if you're interested in sewing but don't have a machine, i'd suggest looking into a very cheap, very old model (if it has a screen avoid it at all costs) or investing in a hand-held sewing machine, which probably isn't going to cut down on the time but will help to stave off early onset arthritis for another decade or so. i do still embroider by hand, but other then that, you wouldn't be able to tear my machine out of my cold dead hands. i've taken care of her like a retired warhorse and she and i are now emotionally bonded.

#that being said #(and this part is only going to be coherent with people who are also in the trenches or have been before)#i am thinking about upgrading soon #i have an elderly janome right now #and i do love her bc she's not too picky about string tension or needle type and takes a thread jam like a champ #but i am also missing every single specialty foot she came with and have never actually seen the manual #i'm not sure if it actually makes that much of a difference tho #perhaps another pilgrimage to the holy land (45 minute trip to joannes) will reveal the answer #personal #anon ask

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flame2ashes · 3 months ago

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Realizing I might actually need to upgrade my PC if I want to play the new Dragon Age game.......

#The question is to what extent would I need to upgrade my computer #If I want to get any later gen CPU + GPU I might also have to get a new motherboard #And then I have to make sure that the parts I'm not upgrading will be compatible #And then after that what if I need a new PSU to power it all #Wow I love having a custom built PC and having to check every time I change any parts to make sure my computer will still work

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lesbianbucky · 6 months ago

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you guys know that tiktok audio about homosexual audacity and thinking you can do anything with no prior experience? "no i've never done that but i'm gay so how hard could it be?" that's me right now having almost no knowledge of computers but wanting to build by own pc

#like i know enough to know what i want. but what makes a computer actually run??? no fucking clue #BUT. i bought a gaming laptop like two years ago and it's already crapped out on me. and it's at a repair shop right now but because #it doesn't have standard parts (it's an acer nitro 5 17-inch) it's gonna cost like $750 to replace the motherboard and get it working again #and i bought the thing for $1500. so what the fuck #plus i've been thinking lately that i want to upgrade to an actual pc because i'm not in school anymore and don't currently need a laptop #and when i DID buy my laptop a couple years ago i didn't do enough research about what specs i wanted and i can't actually run #a lot of the games i want to play. so if i do decide to get it fixed i'd also want more storage and GPU. so it would be even more expensive #SO. i'm like. i can either pay like $1000 to fix my laptop which might crap out again in another year or two and need more uncommon parts #replaced. or i can buy a prebuilt pc which would be like $1800 if i'm getting everything i want.#OR i can build my own pc. and still get everything i want BUT in the process i will also learn how to build a computer (and thus how to #fix any problems that arise) and i can make sure to use common parts that can be replaced if they need to be. right?????#idk i kinda think it might be fun. and i've been wanting to learn the basics of computers for a long time because it seems like very useful #skills to have in life. and people say that this is a good way to learn and that it's not THAT hard to do because there's so many resources #and guides online to help you figure out how to do it.#like am i crazy for wanting to do this????#mine

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secretidentie · 3 months ago

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"Batman is taller then Superman." "No Superman is taller then Batman. " no fuck that, I present you with:

Bruce and Clark are the same exact height and refuse to admit it.

Hear me out. This originally starts when they're hanging out and Clark says "since I'm the taller one" in a conversation as though it's fact. And Bruce immediately stops him.

Bruce: Wait what? You're not the taller one.

Clark: Bruce I'm very clearly 2 inches taller than you.

Bruce: No. You very clearly have curly hair.

Clark: My hair is literally a part of me tho. And even without it I'm still about half an inch above you.

Bruce:Wrong. I have all your measurements and it shows that I am exactly 0.4cm taller than you.

Clark: You think your so smart whenever you use metric

Bruce: I think I'm so smart always

Clark: Well clearly not if your measurements are inaccurate. Don't worry though, people love short kings

Bruce: I am not a short king

Clark: Would you prefer miniature monarch or even pocket sized prince

Bruce: I would prefer you shut up before I leave you here with a shard of kryptonite up your ass

The next time they meet after this conversation is in the watchtower.

Clark: .... Did you put lifts in your shoes

Bruce:What? No

Clark: You're taller than you usually are in the suit

Bruce: No I've always been 4inchs taller than you in the suit

Clark: Bruce the ears don't count

Bruce: If you want to count your badly styled hair as a part of you I can count the cowl

Clark: You're being ridiculous my hair is literally a part of me, it's attached to my head

Bruce: And the cowl is attached to my soul

Clark: THAT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE

Bruce: When you're as tall as I am you don't have to make sense *pats Clark's head and leaves*

After this conversation Clark made sure to always hover 4 inches off the ground whenever he's standing next to Bruce. He refuses to admit that it's so he looks taller and he says no matter how high he flies he'll never be as tall as Bruce's ego. Bruce doesn't respond but with each new batsuit upgrade he gets just a bit taller.

#worlds finest #batman #bruce wayne #dc comics #clark kent #superman #superbat #bruce x clark #dc #dcu

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 4 months ago

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if the military wanted you to have a wife, they'd issue you one. Soap's heard that saying once or twice.

and here you are. claiming to be his... issuance.

you tilt your head. "you don't remember signing up for the program?"

no. no, he doesn't. his eyes dart down to your lips for a fraction of a second before returning to your eyes. he'd remember that. more to the point, he'd remember whatever he did to deserve this. he looks you up and down again, disbelief and desire flashing across his face, and not in equal measure.

you’re like if someone wrung the starry slurry of thoughts constituting what makes a perfect woman directly from his brain matter, let it ferment and clarify like honey wine, put marriage papers in her hand, and dressed her in a… in a fucking… are those stockings stretching up under your skirt?

hell’s bells. you’re one part girl next door, one part muse—the one his hand can never quite shape on the page to match what’s in his head—and several shades of his favorite porn star. an old-fashioned pin-up doll in the flesh.

"you're not John MacTavish, then," you say, peering down at the papers in your hand with a small frown. "so sorry to bother you—"

“no, hold on.” he takes a step closer. “i’m him, aye. but the program...” the application questionnaire. filling it out was nothing more than a drunken bet with Gaz, but yes, he dimly remembers it. doesn't recall turning it in, but maybe he was drunker than he thought. “it's real?"

“completely real. i was selected for you based on the preferences you specified,” you tell him. you shift the clipboard into your other arm, pleasant smile turning into a frown. "but i couldn't possibly ask you to sign a marriage certificate sponsored by a program you don't even remember applying for."

oh, that is rich. you don’t seem to see the humor here. it’s absurd. have you not seen yourself? he'd be daft to pass on someone as bonnie as you.

not to mention you seem more than a little disappointed at the idea of being turned down. that fuels his ego even more.

"you're sayin' you're a part of that military partnership program, aye? and you were handpicked as my spouse based on a few questions?"

you helpfully produce a copy of his responses in pink triplicate. sure enough, he recognizes his own drunken scrawl.

none of the questions have anything to do his preferences looks-wise. career aspirations, communication preferences, hobbies, his ideal saturday night. his sleeping habits. this is a psychological profile. CIA shite, as Gaz would say.

he doubts his drunken self read more than a few lines of this paperwork while he was constructing his dream girl in the survey blanks.

as he studies the page a little too closely, your small frown turns into a frustrated scowl. "john? um, i mean."

it instantly pulls his eyes back to your lips.

you twirl a strand of hair around your finger. "it’s nice to meet you,” you say in a tone that makes it clear what you’re really saying is ‘hey, stud, i'm looking forward to the honeymoon.’

that’s your attempt, at least. but Soap sees more than you mean to show. the way you play that card--the way you twirl your damn hair--is the clumsiest, most blatant attempt to flirt. somehow, that's what catches him off-guard the most. It makes his heart squeeze. god, are you nervous? you?

he runs over the back of his teeth in the split second before his signature lazy smirk slides back across his face. "happy you got paired up with a bloke like me?"

he hands the paperwork back to you. you take it back with great relief and nestle it securely into the crook of your elbow. you’re certain he didn’t sign every single blank he was supposed to, but he won’t remember that. you’ll check the signature lines later and forge his handwriting to finish it.

you smile prettily at him. then you make it a little more coy. you should be bashful--he's handsome. "i'm lucky. you're special forces. i’m a nobody, really. if you want, you could try filing for a spouse upgrade. if you want a really good fiancée..."

“fiancée." Soap rolls the word around his tongue. "is that what i should call you?”

"well. you saw my name on the paperwork," you point out. you know very well he didn't.

before he can ask any more questions, you press a chaste kiss to his cheek and pull away, walking down the hall with documents in tow. his gaze is heavy on your back.

the documents in your arm are real enough. Soap really did complete that questionnaire, just like how he remembers. getting the application turned in is what required a little creative effort.

but as long as nobody looks too closely at the military ID photocopied in the application file, they won't notice that the mostly-obscured face of the soldier who turned the application in doesn't look much like Soap at all.

...

more Soap / masterlist

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captainreecejames · 6 months ago

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my ex is a footballer || LN4 part 2

first part here

summary : the world finds out lando hit you up with a hey girlie text

pairing : lando norris x fem!reader

warnings : phil foden slander, cursing

faceclaim : giorgia wingham

twitter ---------

yn's messages ----------ynusername's story ------

landonorris posted ------

liked by kylianmbappe and others

landonorris hey girlie

load more comments

username23 bro is actually insane for this

username24 the lore behind this is crazy ↳ username25 wait can someone explain it to me I'm new to F1 ↳ username24 well basically we all think that lando told ynusername that her then boyfriend (philfoden) was cheating on her and this feels like a confirmation

maxfewtrell dude ↳ landonorris I'm a better footballer right ↳ maxfewtrell how about we just say you're a better man ↳ landonorris I'll take it, for now

username26 lando coming for f****'s job

carlossainz55 wrong team bro 😞 ↳ landonorris just a tour bro, don't worry

username27 HEY GIRLIE CONFIRMATION WE WIN

username28 yn upgraded for real

ynusername how did you not break your ankle? ↳ landonorris actually not sure, must have had a good luck charm with me

username29 now why would he post this?? yn really is dragging him down with being petty ↳ username30 right?? like she's such a problem ↳ username31 now I know yall aren't saying LANDO was corrupted by yn

ynusername posted -----

liked by oscarpiastri and others

ynusername out and about

username51 GIRL WHAT

bsfinstagram haha fucking nerd ↳ landonorris 😢 ↳ bsfinstagram norizz really makes sense ↳ landonorris yeah but I pulled yn, so it's actually yesrizz ↳ bsfinstagram I'm blocking you

username52 MISSED A FEW CHAPTERS HERE

username53 RUE!! WHEN WAS THIS??

username54 lando was trying to be all mysterious and yn said nah fuck that, hard launch time ↳ username55 which is so funny because I really expected it the other way around

ynusername funny story actually, wasn't supposed to post the pic with lando but 🤷🏼‍♀️ ↳ username55 LOLLL she messed up the soft launch

fodenfan1 downgraded forreal ↳ username56 no one asked you, forreal

landonorris why'd you use this picture?? ↳ ynusername it was an accident

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x fem!reader #lando norris smau #lando norris imagine #formula 1 smau #formula 1 imagine #read #my ex is a footballer series #danielle writes

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bunnys-kisses · 2 months ago

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sponsors

max verstappen - team principal au

cw: smut/pwp, team principal au, driver!reader, bikinis, age gap (20/45), yachts, teasing, protective!max, objectification/misogyny, max makes it all better, praise (kink), power dynamics

a/n: happy birthday max verstappen and happy ten years at formula one!

a big part of formula one was to get sponsors, very few people could pay for a team on their own. thus, the hefty logos across the racer's jackets. and while teams like ferrari had decades long sponsors, a new team like verstappen racing had to get what they could get.

and that max having to put his best media smile on and dazzle any prospective sponsors. but, max also needed your help. so when he asked you join him on his boat during the mid-season break you happily smiled and said, "of course."

you learned early on that a lot of men liked you because you were young, pretty and knew a lot about cars. but, you never thought that it would get to this level. while you thought you'd be sitting beside him over drinks.

not the one serving them. in a bikini.

"mister verstappen." you said as you picked up the bikini from the bed in one of the rooms on the boat. it was white and looked like it would cover very less.

max came up behind you and placed his hands on your hips, "i know... a little unconventional. i promise, i'm not whoring you out. just serve some drinks and that'll be it."

"it feels degrading."

max kissed your neck and replied, "don't worry. no one will try to touch you. i'll make sure of that." while he wanted the sponsors, you were still his. so he'd make sure that you were protected, that was a promise.

you turned your head to look at him and he kissed your forehead. before you went for his lips. you held onto the bikini tighter, "will this be good for the team?"

max nodded, "of course, it means we can get those upgrades for the second half of the season. also their company will make us seem more legitimate."

"then let's do it." then smiled at your boss, a little more assured. you could handle the leering, you were used to it. but with a promise from max about your safety, you felt more assured that it'll all work out.

a white bikini with your hair back a little, paired with heeled sandals and the chain around your neck that had max's logo on it. you were more quiet than usual, letting your boss talk business. you knew these men were from italy, and while they eyed you while you were at the bar getting their drinks, you kept any words to yourself.

this was business, as max once told you. you raced, he did all the behind the scenes work. that was what a team principal did. you brought the drinks over on a platter and gave max's his first.

you bent over to be closer to your boss and he patted your face with his rough hand which made you smile. he whispered in your ear, "good job, did you make the drink a little stronger for them?"

you looked at him and smiled. you looked almost proud of yourself. max had to plaster a smile on his face to keep it together. you were eye candy right now, and even max was feeling the effects of it. when you pulled away, and tried to give the other drinks to the men across from max, one of them stuck their foot out a little bit.

you tripped, but didn't spill a drop of liquor on the floor. you caught yourself even in the heels and made a loud yelp noise.

"she's a better server than a driver." one of the men spoke in italian. impressed that you didn't see the drinks get spilled. he did almost see your ass spill out of the bottom of the swim suit.

max's eyes stayed on you as you tried to compose yourself. he could tell that almost tumble made you a little shaky, "i assure you, she is a lot better on the track." he smiled.

"is she... for sale tonight?" the other man asked as you handed him his drink. max knew you didn't speak italian, so you had no idea what was being said about you. the man continued, "she's beautiful and would be a fairly good ride for the evening. what do you say mister verstappen?"

max relaxed against his seat and chuckled, "my drivers are not whores." then took a sip of his drink then looked to you. he said in english, "she is one of the best racers i know." and you looked at him.

you beamed at your boss as you held the platter to your chest. when you went to put it back at the bar and come back to the three men, max adjusted his posture and allowed you room to sit on his lap. you took it as him eager to be close to you, but in reality he was staking an ownership.

no, max wasn't going to whore you out to these businessmen. firstly, he had too much respect for you, and secondly, you were already his.

"i do not like when those touch what is mine." he spoke in italian as he got an arm around your waist, "she is a driver for verstappen racing, not a street walker. do not refer to her as such."

one of the businessmen laughed, "always stubborn, verstappen. but i am impressed that you managed to find someone so young. look at how she is in your lap. trained like a puppy."

you looked to max in the hope he'd translate, but instead he rubbed your head. you rested up against. he had his drink and chatted, he shifted the topic from the beautiful woman in his lap.

but yet, the curl of jealousy stayed in max's gut. he hid it well and when the other men tried to make comments, he brushed them off. he already made his position known. even if throughout the afternoon, he wanted to punch these men in the face. but, that wouldn't look good on him. and it would scare you. you've seen max get loud during races, but never, even get violent.

he kept himself composed through two gin and tonics that you happily served to him. but when he waved the men off the boat at the end of the afternoon with a promise of a healthy sponsor contract, max's gazed turned to you.

these men were talking about the entire afternoon like you were a piece of meat on sale. and maybe max invited it by dressing you up like that. but, it still didn't make it right. max soon had his arm around you and you looked up at him with a smile.

he kissed you on the lips and pulled you closer to him. "you did so well." he said before he gave you another kiss, "but i want you out of this now. i think this will be for my eyes from now on." his hand dropped to your ass where he gave is a good squeeze.

you both ended up in the bedroom once more, your kicked those stupid sandals off and before you could get the bikini off. he stopped you. you looked at him and he looked back at you.

"i want to take it off."

take it off of you was like unwrapping a gift, your skin warmed from the afternoon sun as you smiled at him warmly. oh, you were divine. but, he bet you knew that. he got you naked save for the necklace.

you laid out on the bed and smiled at him, "we did good today."

he took off his button up shirt and took it off his shoulders. he could feel your hungry gaze on him as he got undressed. he smiled a little, "you did excellent." once he was naked, he got into bed with you and took your face in his hands, then pulled you in for a searing kiss.

you squirmed against him a little before you melted a little in his touch. your heart beat picked up and you moaned against his lips. you were so naked and vulnerable for him.

"my prize driver." he remarked as he pushed hair out of your face and chuckled, "you are perfect. turning heads wherever you go." he laughed a little, "you make me proud."

and you felt something bloom in your chest as you said, "thank you sir." then yelped when he got on top of you and rested on his heels. his cock stood at proper attention.

he thought about how he took your virginity. you had admitted one night that you had never slept with someone before and your best friend was a rabbit in your suitcase. so even now, as he rubbed his cock up against against your wet slit, it still excited him.

of course he wasn't going to whore you out, not when the only cock you had was his. he took you by the hips and then guided his cock into your sweet sex. he shuddered a little as he pushed all the way in.

you really were the prettiest thing at the paddock, with your darling smile and cute laugh. you knew how to have a good time and while you were stubborn at times, you melted into your boss' grasp like honey. you were painfully sweet, even when max told you to put on your winning face before you raced. max was fortunate that he got a hold of you before anyone else.

"you did so good for me, schat." he spoke to you softly as he held onto your highs and rutted against you, "you played the part so well. i hate what those men said about you. they treated you like meat, took everything in me to not kill them."

you pouted a little as you held onto the covers under you, "what did they say about me?" you knew the conversation was animated, but you could only pick up a few words. but their gazes on you were intense.

max pushed into you further, making you rest on your tailbone, "they're dogs, my little racer." he said with hate in his tone, "they're dogs who deserve nothing. for men that rich, they are stupid. they should know that you're mine."

"did they want to fuck me?" you asked as you tried to reach for his shoulders. his cock hit against the softest parts of you and your back arched a little from the feeling.

max nodded, "but, i'd never let them do that." he assured you, "no, no, no, never. that was why you were so close to me for most of the afternoon. i didn't want them alone with you."

you looked at him and nodded, "my hero."

max smiled a little as he leaned forward, hiking your hips up more to hit at just the right angle. his lips captured yours as you moaned against the feeling. it all felt perfect. and while you felt a little objectified, it was hard to do so when max made sure that you felt special. that you were more than just a sex object.

"you did good." he said, "you did excellent. thank you for putting up with them. i promise i won't make you do that again." he kissed at your jaw with love, "no one can touch you the way i can. alright? you're mine."

you nodded, "of course, sir. always sir!" you held onto him a little tighter as the pleasure swarmed your gut. the kissed got hotter as your bodies moved together. you didn't realize what max meant by being 'his', you thought simply it was that you were part of his team. that sex was just an added bonus.

but that wasn't what max meant, he wanted you in every way he could have you. you were the subject of his fantasies, he had seen you in every way a man could. the dinners he took you out to, the better car he put you in. the way he held your lower back while you walked through the paddock. you assumed it was because you were a good driver! not that max wanted you carnally. silly little driver.

"you're so special." he said, "you knew how to turn heads and make anyone fall in love with you." he was talking like he hadn't staked a claim on you. like he hadn't taken you under his wing to be the best driver you could be. you were cute, sweet, max didn't want any bad men to hurt you.

you whimpered against his movements, getting louder. but thankfully no one could hear you. you knew of the rumour mill surrounding you and max. what people had said both in the tabloids and in the garage. it wasn't hard to draw conclusions when max was constantly with you, his hands on you that could be seen as romantic. but, when others asked about your relationship with max verstappen, you simply smiled and said, "he's the best boss ever."

even when he was bruising your sweet pussy. his cock nudging up against your g-spot which made you whimper and squirm. it was cute, you were cute. most team principals didn't bed their drivers daily, but there were always exceptions.

"please, sir." you said, "it feels good!" you clung to him a little tighter and he responded with heavy kisses.

max could feel his heart hammering in his chest. he could feel your nails into his shoulders as you held onto him. his cock was perfect inside of you. he knew if he got your knocked up by next week, there would be no surprises. except maybe for you. even though he frequently finished inside of you. you loved the feeling and who was max to deny his superstar.

he felt something run up his spine as he continued to move against you. when he broke the kiss and looked at you with those blue eyes of him. he soaked in the sight of you, on the verge of climax.

his beautiful driver.

with a few more heavy thrusts of his hips, you squirmed further and climaxed around his cock. you clenched onto him and almost bit into his strong shoulder as you felt your heart beat pick up. a strained moan left you lips before you relaxed on the bed.

max drank in that sight, he kissed your cheek and said, "perfect. like always." because he pushed you up further, almost bending you in half to really work his cock into you. even with the dull throb in his knee (which made him briefly think about the age gap), he continued to bully his cock into you.

it didn't take long before he finished inside of you as well. he tensed up for a moment as he held onto your hips. he hissed through grit teeth as the pleasure came down on him. only you could make him lose control like that.

"good girl." he said as he put your bottom half back down on the bed and pulled out of you. you laid out in a heated mess on the bed and he laid down beside you.

he kissed your neck and shoulder as you settled down. he praised your silently with kissed along your heated skin. next time he wouldn't put you in that bikini, but if it was just you two on the boat. then maybe he'd put you in it for his eyes only.

by the time the season started up again, you were all smiles with a new logo on your uniform. the updates to the car were made to both yours and your teammates. and when you held the trophy over your head for the following grand prix, max couldn't help but beam as he clapped.

"we did it, sir!" you chirped as you pulled him into a hug. your joy at winning warmed him, just as you were going to warm his cock come evening as a thank you for getting you closer to the wdc. <3

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roosterforme · 3 months ago

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 19 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: With an uncertain future, Bradley gets ready to leave for Virginia. But he works on a plan to make sure you understand just how much he will be thinking about you.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst, adult banter, desperate Bradley, 18+

Length: 5400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley felt sick to his stomach as soon as he saw the stationery set. At this point, the only thing on his mind was quitting his job so the two of you didn't have to be separated. The paper looked expensive; he would have loved to sit in his bunk and write line after line to you and your class, but he wouldn't be able to do that at all.

"We can go back to being pen pals for a bit," you whispered, your hand coming to rest on his thigh, giving him a little squeeze. "I'll be refreshing my email inbox and waiting not so patiently for my mail to arrive. It'll be great. That's how I fell in love with you in the first place."

He felt guilty even though he had no control over the scenario. His heart hurt with loneliness already as he set the gift you gave him on the coffee table and buried his face in his hands. "Gorgeous. That's not gonna happen." He swallowed past the lump in his throat and turned to look at you out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm confused," you said, hand still on his leg. He covered your fingers with his rougher ones and pulled gently until you climbed onto his lap.

"Oh, god," he groaned, giving you a kiss before linking his fingers with yours. "I love that set of note cards. I would have taken them with me everywhere during my free time, and I would have written to your class constantly. And you would have been the recipient of some rambling love notes to be sure." Your brow was still creased with concern as he said, "No outside communication. For seven weeks."

Your expression went slack as a single tear rolled down your cheek. "You're joking."

"I'm not."

Bradley held onto your fingers as you whispered, "This keeps getting worse," through more tears. Your broken voice made his chest ache as you leaned closer until your cheek was resting on his shoulder. "I could go ages without you in person, but if I can't talk to you at all... Bradley."

Nobody else ever loved him the way you did. He'd be miserable without your letters, emails, dirty pictures and pretty face over video calls, but he finally had someone who would miss him equally.

"I know," he muttered, wrapping his arms around you. "It's seven weeks of nothing."

You were crying in earnest now as you clung to him. "Nothing," you sobbed. "I won't even know if I'm supposed to collect you in San Diego or Norfolk when your deployment ends. And I won't know where you're being stationed."

"Fuck," he gasped. "Gorgeous, when I tell you that nobody would have much cared where I ended up before I met you, I mean it." He kissed you as you snuggled tighter against him. "As soon as I find out what's going on, I'll let you know."

"Seriously," you murmured, voice shaky. "You better tell me as soon as possible if it's San Diego or Norfolk in my future."

Bradley didn't know what else to say besides, "I fucking love you." He smiled for the first time in what felt like weeks as he added, "Are you really going to fly out to Norfolk and collect me if they make me stay in Virginia?"

You pulled away from him, eyes puffy with a scandalized look on your face as you said, "Of course. What kind of girlfriend do you think I am?"

The kind he was going to upgrade to his wife.

-----------------------------

When you finally stopped crying, you were on the verge of a migraine, but you felt a bit calmer. Bradley got up to gather together some Advil, a glass of water, and a small gift wrapped in hideous paper.

"Your early Christmas present," he said, handing it to you after you swallowed two pills for your headache. "Well, it's actually kind of another gift for me, when you really think about it." He dropped down onto the couch again with his arm slung around your shoulders, and unlike him, you tore into the paper. Inside was a leather journal with little hand painted airplanes all over it. "Will you write in it every day so I can read it when I see you again?"

When you opened it to the first page, he had written you a note.

Gorgeous, I miss you with my whole heart. I can't wait to read about all of your adventures when I get home to you. Love, Bradley

"Yes," you whispered, closing it again so you could wrap your arms around his waist. "It'll just be a bunch of pages of me telling you how I argued with Jayden about his sloppy handwriting and how I asked Nia a hundred times to return to her seat. But yes, I'll write in it every day for you."

"I will eat up every page."

After that, he kept you by his side for the rest of the night. Even when you tried to dig around in the refrigerator to see if there was any food left, he was grabbing for you and kissing you. "You have no food," you said with a laugh, turning to face him. "What are we eating for dinner?"

"Hadn't thought that far," he muttered against your lips. "Just want you."

You took his face in your hands and ran your thumb along his scars. "If you don't eat, you'll get cranky. And you've got aircraft carrier food in your future."

Bradley grimaced and muttered, "Cabbage rolls," as he reached for his phone. "Let's get pizza today. And then maybe I'll try to talk the hostess at Salvatore's into letting us get takeout tomorrow. Then Thai on Christmas."

"And then you'll be gone," you whispered, dreading it all over again. "It never gets any easier, does it?"

"You're stuck with me, Gorgeous," he said, voice tinged with the tiniest bit of apprehension.

"I am." You kissed him before you said, "Pizza sounds perfect. Then I can help you pack a little more."

---------------------------

The last thing Bradley wanted to do was finish packing his duffle, but every time you looked up at him, eyes full of emotion, he was struck by several things. One, you really were so good at folding up his uniform components, something he noticed a few days ago. Two, every minute or so, you wrapped your arms around him, which made leaving with uncertainty so much harder. And three, you were absolutely nothing like Vanessa.

Last time when he packed to leave, he was treated to her incessant whining over the fact that he didn't want to take her out to dinner. She was always annoyed with him wanting a quiet night in. She was always annoyed by his job. It was so obvious that she never missed him or loved him the way you did as he watched you carefully fold one of his flight suits before tucking it in his bag.

"Gorgeous," he murmured, and as soon as your gaze met his, you had your arms wrapped around him again.

"That's enough for the night," you whispered, voice thick with emotion as he kissed the top of your head. Your face was pressed against his chest, and he could hear you trying to keep yourself calm. And god, he hated doing this to both of you.

"I agree," he replied, keeping you close while he tossed a few novels he'd been meaning to read in as well. He'd have plenty of time to read a whole stack.

You wiped your eyes on his shirt as you said, "Make sure you read at night and stay away from all the women."

Bradley tipped your chin up so you were looking at him again. "Surely you're not worried about that." You shook your head. "Good. But now that we're on the topic... be a good girl and don't talk to horny assholes."

You started laughing as you slipped out of his grasp, wiping at your tears as you said, "Never. Now let me add one more thing to your bag." As you disappeared from the bedroom, Bradley put his bag on the top of his dresser. If he had time, he would move some of his clothing around so you had room for your things when your lease was up. Otherwise you were going to have to fend for yourself in his house and just make decisions for him. If he just had more time with you, everything would be easier. The one promising thing would be returning in time for Valentine's Day and Career Day at your school. If he was allowed to come back to San Diego at all.

"Fuck," he groaned, hating this unsettled feeling that was expanding in his chest, but as soon as you walked back in, he started to feel better. Seven weeks without you was going to be painful when he had such a visceral reaction to your touch and your words.

"Just in case you feel like jotting down your own thoughts every day for me to read," you said before tucking the stationery kit in next to his uniforms. You slid a large envelope that looked like it was bursting at the seams inside as well and simply said, "Some more reading material for you," before pulling him toward the bed.

And that's when Bradley figured out just how to make you feel a little less alone when he was in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

-------------------------

When you opened your eyes on Christmas Eve, you were already smiling. Your body was warm and tucked up against Bradley's, his big, heavy arm draped over you as he snored softly. You wanted to stay here and not move a muscle, because right now, everything was perfect. You could pretend like his duffle bag wasn't sitting on his dresser, mostly packed and ready to go. You could melt into the sweet ache deep inside from the hour he spent loving your body last night. You could close your eyes and go back to sleep.

Bradley's phone vibrated on his nightstand, and he groaned next to your ear. "Baby," he murmured, lips grazing your neck. "Don't get up yet."

You couldn't help but smile. "Your phone is vibrating. Not mine."

"Shit," he grunted, rolling away from you. Once he looked at his phone screen he seemed to wake up. "Nat's on her way to pick you up for girls' day."

"What are you talking about?"

You definitely hadn't planned a girls' day. Why would you want to miss out on any time with Bradley right now? You could have a day with Nat next week or next month when he was gone!

He had a little smile on his face as he pulled you close again for a kiss. "You better get dressed."

"Bradley! I'm not going out with Nat. You're leaving in two days!"

Naked and spectacular, he climbed out of bed and stretched. "Just for a bit. She wants to take you to get coffee, and if she tries to get me a Christmas present, I need you to make sure it doesn't suck."

"You planned this," you said, annoyed as he reached for you, pulling you away from the bed where you could pretend there was no scary uncertainty in your future.

"Just trust me," he whispered, holding you close. "Besides, I need some time to sweet talk someone at Salvatore's into letting me order dinner to-go."

You could handle an hour or two with his best friend while you counted down the time you had left before his flight out of San Diego. "Fine, but I'm wearing your sweatshirt, and I'll be thinking about you the whole time."

Bradley sent you down the walkway with a kiss, and he waved from the front door in just his underwear as you climbed into his best friend's car. "I won't keep you out too long," Natasha promised with a smirk. "I can already tell you want to get back to him."

"Why did he plan this?" you asked, wanting the answers he wouldn't give you while trying not to be rude. "No offense, because I would love to spend an entire girls' day with you, but why today?"

She simply turned up the Christmas songs on the radio and headed toward Starbucks with a smile on her face. "I was thinking after coffee we could hit up the mall for a few minutes? I need to find something truly awful to get for Bradley. I'm thinking some pink running shorts to match mine. High visibility colors are very important when you're out running, and I just don't think he fully appreciates that."

You laughed. "If you buy them, he'll probably just wear them to try to embarrass you."

"I don't embarrass easily," she said smoothly with a devilish grin. "And dare I say you might like to pick out a little something that you could wear as a going away treat?"

"Wear?" you asked before you quite knew what she meant.

"Sure. I mean, I don't want to know any specifics about what the two of you get up to, because gross, but deployments are long and lonely, and you're definitely going to miss each other."

While Bradley had seen all of your cutest underwear at this point, you'd never worn anything that you bought specifically with him in mind. Your cheeks grew warm as you thought about it. Truthfully you didn't even own anything terribly sexy.

"What would he even like?" you asked softly as she pulled into the Starbucks parking lot.

"On you?" she asked with a laugh. "Anything. Don't worry, we'll find something good."

------------------------

When Natasha texted to inform him that you were on your way back to his house, Bradley quickly hid everything that had been out on his coffee table while he juggled his phone. The woman he was talking to on speakerphone wasn't falling for his lines at all.

"Listen," he told her, making sure there was no visible evidence of what he'd done in his living room. "I just really want tonight to be special for my girlfriend and I before I leave for my next deployment. Just one order of spaghetti and meatballs? That's all I'm asking."

There was a deep sigh followed by, "Be here promptly at 5:00 to pick it up. I'll take your credit card over the phone."

"Perfect," he replied with a smile, digging for his wallet. "The name is Bradley Bradshaw."

You walked in with shopping bags in your arms, and rushed toward him as he finished giving his credit card security code, and he pulled you in for a hug as he reassured the hostess from Salvatore's that he would be there at 5:00.

"Hi," he said, kissing you after he ended the call. "Did you have fun with Nat?

"So much fun," you told him with a smile. "We're going to try out a wine bar next week up in Oceanside." The idea of you hanging out with his friend while he was away made him feel calm, especially since Nat knew how important you were to him. "Also," you said, pressing your lips together nervously, "I think I'd like to sleep here for the rest of my winter break." Your volume dropped to a whisper. "I'm not sure if it will make me miss you more or less, but I want to be here if that's okay with you."

"I love that, Gorgeous," he replied easily. Hanging out with Natasha and then returning to his house where you belonged anyway felt right to him. "Knowing you're sleeping in my bed might result in some dirty notes from me," he said with a laugh as you bit your lip.

"Please," you whispered. "Yes. Write me dirty notes to read when you get back." Just when he was about to kiss you, he watched you bend and rummage around in a bag. "Also, this is your gift from Natasha." You handed him some bright pink fabric that he turned around in his hands, trying to figure out what it was. "And she told me to hold up the gift receipt for you."

When he finally figured out that it was a pair of ladies running shorts, he grimaced. "She's so annoying," he groaned, reaching for the gift receipt, but you quickly chuckled and tore it up. "What are you doing?"

"You're not allowed to return them." You dropped the bits of paper, and he tossed the shorts onto the couch.

"Whose side are you on here?" he asked, peppering your face with kisses. "Don't think for a second I won't just put a jock strap on and run in those shorts."

"I tried to tell her you would," you laughed as he scooped you up. "I kind of want to see it."

"Play your cards right," he murmured, grabbing his keys and taking you out to his Bronco. "Let's pick up dinner."

------------------------------

Your belly was full of spaghetti and meatballs when you managed to sneak away to the tiny laundry room and quickly hand wash your new bra and thong set while Bradley loaded the dishwasher. Nat assured you that he would enjoy this tiny thing, and you were trusting her here. You set both items aside to dry before walking back out to the kitchen.

"You don't have a Christmas tree," you remarked, wishing you'd picked one up today from one of the many parking lots trying to unload them at the last minute.

"I told you I don't really celebrate holidays."

"You're doing a great job of celebrating this one."

He washed his hands and tossed the towel aside. It was barely seven o'clock, but he asked, "You feel like calling it an early night?" You agreed, ready to feel his warmth along your entire body as you fell asleep.

You got undressed and climbed in bed, and he did the same. Bradley's hands were everywhere, but his lips were gentle on your neck and shoulder as he whispered your name. "I love you. It's going to kill me inside when I can't talk to my favorite pen pal. Last time, you had my heart pounding every time you sent me a new email."

Tears stung your eyes in the darkness; you'd done a pretty good job of holding it together all day, but this was going to be your undoing. "I promise, every time you think about me, I'll already be thinking about you, too."

Bradley's arm tightened around you, his thumb stroking your skin, soothing you along with his sweet words as you fell asleep.

When you woke up on Christmas Day, his body was still right behind yours where he belonged, but when you rolled over to look at his handsome face, you knew the hours were going to go by too quickly. "Morning, Gorgeous," he murmured, voice raspy from sleep as he cracked his eyes open. "Let's go see what Santa brought."

You didn't have any other gifts for him, unless you counted your new lingerie which you were saving for later after dinner. And the printer you bought so he could have some photos of you without his phone on the aircraft carrier. But when you got out to the living room, there was an envelope on the coffee table.

"What is it?" you asked cautiously as you picked it up. But your heart melted immediately. It was a gift card for the wine bar in Oceanside.

"There's enough on there for you and Nat to take a few trips up if you like the place."

"The two of you have been plotting, I see," you remarked, taking a deep breath before snuggling up against his chest. "But nothing will beat the horribly expensive bottle of wine I accidentally made you buy on our second date."

Deep laughter rumbled through Bradley's chest as he said, "The look on your face just made me love you more." You groaned thinking about it. "Come on, we've only got one day left and then seven weeks of nothing. Let's make French toast and have sex on the couch and eat Thai food and watch movies."

You wore his sweatshirt around all day, licked maple syrup from his lip and rode him until he was whining for you. The Thai noodles went perfectly with Home Alone. Then you took a shower together and deep conditioned his hair, dragging your nails along his scalp until his eyes closed.

"I'm going to miss this," he whispered after every single thing you did. When you toweled his hair dry, he looked at you with so much emotion. "I'm going to call you as soon as I know what's going on with the Pacific versus Atlantic Fleet. And either way, I'll try to be as patient as I possibly can, but I can't live without you, Baby."

"Bradley."

"Shit. Even the way you say my name makes me ache."

"I want you here with me. I already hate this." A sob escaped your lips without warning. "I want you to come back for Career Day."

The words were barely out of your mouth before he said, "I will be here for Career Day no matter what. Disappointing you is bad enough, but I don't want the eighteen kiddos to miss out on spending the day with their favorite Naval officer."

You laughed. "You're not disappointing me, Bradley. This is just hard, because I love you so much."

If you couldn't see a future with him, this would have been easier. He set you down on the bathroom vanity, and you watched him carefully shave around his mustache, kissing you randomly so you had to wipe shaving cream from your nose, and then he started collecting his toiletries for his duffle bag. He was naked and perfect as you stayed huddled in your towel, wondering if you could even manage to pull off wearing the items that were surely dry now and draped over his laundry room sink.

"Where are you going?" he asked as you ducked past him toward the door.

"Meet me in bed."

You rushed down the hallway and threw your towel in the empty washing machine as you took a minute to touch the pretty lace fabric before sliding the thong up your legs. Next you hooked the bra in place, and it didn't matter if you didn't look perfect, because you felt good. And you wanted him to have this memory.

When you cautiously strolled into the bedroom, Bradley was still naked, laying on top of the bedding, looking at a small piece of paper. "I'm just double checking my packing list, and I..." His gaze shifted to your body, and you did a little turn for him. The paper drifted to the floor as he sat up, his hand coming to rest on his cock. "Come here."

Biting your lip, you did as you were told. Bradley's feet swung over the edge of the bed, coming to rest on the floor as his cock bobbed between his thick thighs. "Here I am," you whispered, standing between his knees with your hands on his shoulders. "Your going away gift."

One strong arm wrapped around you, and you squeaked as he pulled you flush against him. He kissed the rounded tops of your breasts above your new bra, one after the other before looking up at you. "What did I do to deserve this?" he rasped, his nose running along the lace as his fingers tangled in your thong.

Already so turned on, you tried to answer him twice before words came out. "I wanted to give you a proper send off. Something extra special." Then he kissed your furled nipples through the flimsy bra cups and you moaned, "Something to think about when you're lonely."

His fingers were digging into your butt as he grunted. His wide brown eyes were fixed on your face as he parted his lips and sucked on your breast, the black lace wet everywhere now. He was being a little rough, but it felt like he was worshipping you at the same time, and when his lip found your neck, he asked, "Is this little getup new?"

"I bought it yesterday," you gasped as his fingers slipped inside your thong, stroking your wet pussy. "Just for you."

Then you were on your back with your head on the pillow, Bradley's heavy cock resting against your thigh as he hovered over you. "Just for me, huh?" he grunted, biceps flexed as he fought to keep his breathing under control.

You nodded, running your toes up along his calf and thigh until your leg was hooked around his hip, ready to give him whatever he wanted. "Of course it's just for you. I'll wear it again when we meet back in the San Diego airport or in Norfolk. And I'll wear it when you're away and I'm touching myself."

"Fuck," he growled, pulling your panties to the side and running his cock through your wetness before pushing himself so deep inside you that it took your breath away. When you whimpered, his lips crashed against yours as his hands dug beneath you to unhook your bra. "Touch yourself right now." When the flimsy lace ended up on the floor while Bradley fucked you, he guided your right hand to his lips, kissing your fingertips before placing them on your breast. "I want to watch."

Bradley's pupils were wide, lips parted. When you looked down your body as his cock disappeared inside you over and over again, you felt even more turned on. When you ran your fingers along your nipple and up between your bouncing breasts, his eyes followed your every move. "Like this?" you asked, feeling bold as you added your left hand as well.

He gave you a harder thrust. "Exactly like that, Gorgeous. And what are you going to think about when you do?"

"My boyfriend," you managed before his mouth met yours in a deep kiss that only lasted a few seconds. "I'm going to think about my boyfriend. I'll miss you so much."

-----------------------------

Bradley's hips slowed to a gentler pace as he listened to you gasping and panting beneath him. There was no way you'd miss him as much as he'd miss you. He closed his eyes and thought about returning home to your arms in seven weeks and heading back to work in the Pacific Fleet. He hoped you'd appreciate the little surprises he was leaving behind for you. More than anything he wanted you to think about tonight when you got yourself off.

His rough excitement at you in the new lingerie melted into something sweeter as he fucked you with long, languid strokes. Your lips were on his neck and collarbones as he whispered how much he loved you over and over. When you came, it escalated quickly, sudden and loud as he ran his thumb across your clip. He couldn't hold on after that, and he let your body hold him in place with soft squeezes as he caught his breath.

"I have one more thing for you to pack," you whispered, voice ragged as you ran your fingers through his hair.

"I really hope you fit in my duffle," he mused, and you laughed softly.

You kissed his ear and whispered, "I bought a small photo printer since you won't be able to use your phone." He shivered at your words. "You can print out a photo or two of us together... or maybe you want to take a new one right now to print out?"

"Jesus," he grunted, kissing your lips. "You're spoiling me." He reached for his phone on the nightstand and snapped a few pictures of your fucked out face and your body with his cock still buried deep. "I am very spoiled."

When you stood and plugged in the printer with lips puffy from his mustache in just your thong, he couldn't keep his hands off you. He had his photo gallery open on his phone and his arm around your waist as he selected the picture you sent him ages ago with the sun setting behind you. "This one is an absolute necessity. So is this one of us together. I don't think I should take any with me where you're naked, just to be safe," he mused, and you threw your arms around him.

"You'll just have to use your imagination," you told him as the photos printed.

"That'll be easy with this fresh in my mind," he murmured, looking down at your tits pressed to his chest. "I'll be thinking about you nonstop."

Bradley's hold on your body was unrelenting as he dropped the photos into his duffle and led you back to bed. It was getting late, and his flight to Virginia was early. You snuggled up on his chest with a soft smile on your lips. "I hope you do. I hope you think about me constantly and write me notes."

He kissed your forehead. "Not just you... your whole class. Have to keep them interested in aviation. But you're my favorite pen pal."

You laughed and buried your face against his neck, and he could feel your breathing grow a little more ragged as you whispered, "I love you so much. Just be safe. I don't really care if we have to figure out long distance or relocation as long as you're safe, Bradley."

That's how he fell asleep, wrapped up in your arms with your sweet sentiments in his ear. And the next morning, when his alarm went off, he welcomed your tears, because they made him feel like he was important to a woman for the first time in his life. You cried softly as you sat on his lap and went over his packing list with him one more time, and your cheeks were wet as you kissed him.

Bradley let you button up his khaki uniform shirt for him, your fingers shaking as you smoothed down the fabric along his chest. "Thank you, Gorgeous," he whispered, watching helplessly as your face crumbled into more tears.

When he drove the Bronco to the airport, your fingers were linked with his in the silence as the light from the rising sun hit the buildings downtown, promising to bring another perfect day to southern California. His hand tightened around yours, knowing he was going to be flying into so much uncertainty. His voice sounded strangled to his own ears as he parked at the curb under the signage for departing flights. "This is it. I'll text and call you as much as I can when I land before they lock me down, but this is it for seven weeks."

You crawled onto his lap, holding him tight as he kissed you, and now his tears mingled with yours. "I love you, Bradley," you promised, and he believed you as he held you in his arms and climbed down onto the pavement. He pulled his duffle from the backseat and dropped it to the curb as he held you against him, unwilling to leave before he told you a few more things.

"I'll keep myself safe, but you need to do the same. If you need something, you call Natasha right away, okay?" You nodded against him, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades. "My stuff is your stuff, so do whatever you want at the house and with my Bronco. And tell me you love me every day in the journal so I can read about it when I see you."

"I will," you sobbed as he finally set you down. "And I'll be waiting to hear you tell me if it's San Diego or Norfolk."

He swiped your tears away from your cheeks and kissed you one last time before he picked up his bag and headed for the door. When he turned back one last time, you were clutching his car keys and crying. "I love you, Gorgeous."

----------------------------

We'll see how they manage apart. I think she might do a bit better than Bradley will. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 20

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697 notes · View notes

ozzgin · 9 months ago

Note

Is it just me or can I imagine a yandere with a darling who’s immune system and possibly everything about them just screams weak and pathetic, BUT their darling is actually very strong mentally and has and will create the most fucked up, batshit crazy inventions from what used to be harmless to something that can help them escape and possibly destroy everything in its path.

But at the end of the day, they become sleepy koalas who hug whoever is near them and fall asleep :)

This could be a request or rant, whatever you can think of! I just wanted to see how different yandere writers would interpret this small imagination of mine <3

But as always, stay safe and take care! everyone needs a break some time to time~

Sorry, but the moment I read the Darling's description, I instantly thought of Dr. Finkelstein from Nightmare Before Christmas. You know, Sally's inventor. 😭 So let me quickly write this down while I'm in my Shelley vibes, because I like the idea a lot. With a little twist, if you don't mind. :)

Yandere! Monster x Inventor! Reader

A frail inventor, and their affectionate rag doll that has been carefully stitched together for the purpose of a caregiver. An artificial existence, trapped within the confines of your lonely tower. Or so you might think.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, obsessive behavior

"I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel..." [Frankenstein]

You dangle an old, rusty bell for a good minute before leaning back in your chair. The barely audible chimes are quickly swallowed by the loud, mechanical groans of the gears and engines occupying most of this room. No matter, his ears are good. You picked them yourself. And surely enough, within moments, the door to your laboratory opens and someone cautiously walks in.

A tall, slender man. Or rather, something meant to resemble a man. The skin is a clumsy patchwork of blues and grays - you're no talented seamster, sadly - gathering together the body parts in what feels like a parodic attempt at mimicking God and his image. You gaze at the creature approaching you with a tray of tea and sweets. Scarcely your best work, if you must adhere to honesty. Regardless of the quality of your labor at the time of creation, you are proud of the result. How could you not be? You know this man better than you know yourself. Every organ, every artificial nerve cord, every blemish and stitch of his body was placed according to your intentions. A masterfully detailed project that took you years to complete; not an easy feat considering the lamentable state of your health.

"Here's your deadly nightshade tea." The man places a small, porcelain cup on the desk. "Do let me know when I should take you to bed, (Y/N)." You wave your hand dismissively and stretch out your limbs. "Not yet. I am almost finished", you respond, returning to the mound of metal scraps and pipes before you. "Can I ask what you're making?" The pale creature lowers himself to your level, a curious smile plastered on his face. "It's a mechanical heart", you reveal boastfully. "Like the one I have?" You run your hand through the creature's hair affectionately. "Almost. I'm testing out a different way to build the valves, for a more efficient pumping cycle." You continue to explain the intricacies of your novel mechanism, occasionally sipping on your tea. "Who knows, you might have a sibling in the near future."

The man's smile drops in an instant, and his sunken eyes widen at your statement. "What? Am I- am I not enough?" You glance at the creature as he becomes increasingly frantic. "Don't speak nonsense. If it comes out alright, I'll upgrade your own parts as well. I'm a disciple of scientific virtue, of continuous improvement." Nonsense? Vile treachery! You might've chiseled the brain that throbs within the walls of his skull, but his mind is his alone, and you seem to lack a fundamental understanding of his feelings and thoughts. His ardent confessions of love are met with mockingly pitiful grins, in the way a parent soothes a needy child. Even now, your eyes reflect nothing more than sympathy towards his protest. A childish tantrum is what you're most likely thinking. You've no time for emotional bagatelles. He can read you like an open book.

You simply won't understand. There is no place for a stranger in the life he's crafted with his very own hands: you, and him, and the evening tea with a side of butterscotch biscuits, and the bedtime talks, and the stripped branches of the decaying tree that rap at the windows on stormy nights. You might be the Inventor, but he is not just a mere, humble servant, a rag doll to be tossed around or toyed with. As you will soon discover, after all.

You awaken in the midst of night with your temples burning from a much too familiar headache. Although it's not just the pain that has disturbed your slumber. You can hear rattles and thuds coming from the upstairs laboratory. An intruder? Oh, your creations! The sound of glass breaking and metal scraping sends you into spiraling despair. You fumble to reach the nightstand, patting the surface in search for the bell and keys. You shake the handle in a panic, unable to find anything else in the darkness.

The chaotic rustle abruptly stops, followed by descending footsteps. You hold your breath as the chamber door opens, but it's none other than your creature. "Another flare-up? Shall I bring you some medicine?" the man asks with monotonous courtesy. "What have you been doing? What's all that noise?" you demand, agitated, but upon lifting yourself off the mattress you discover your legs are numb and uncooperative. The man hurries to your bed with a worried frown, and you hear the familiar clatter of the keychain coming from one of his pockets. "Have you taken my keys? Cease this foolishness at once!" Indifferent to your reproach, he places a firm hold on your shoulders and forces you back down, tucking you in effortlessly.

"You must forgive my impertinence." he says in a pleading tone. "I do not wish to impede the works of your genius. As your partner, however, it is my duty to prevent you from making mistakes." You furrow your eyebrows at his words. "What mistakes? My invention was flawless!", you argue fervently. "Indeed it was, but not its purpose. What need have you for another being?" It is the creature's turn for a passionate speech. He stands up with a confidence you don't recognize and continues: "You should know by now that I am fit to perform any role. That of your servant, your caregiver, your lover, or anything else you may desire. You can resume your tinkering starting tomorrow, but such blasphemies to our bond as the one today will not be tolerated." He straightens his vest and reaches for the door handle. "I will prepare some tea to help you rest."

Inconceivable. Your own creation, built with your own hands...Has something escaped your attention? His dialogue is deranged, tainted by madness. "Have I done something wrong?" you mumble to yourself, deep in contemplation. "Nonsense." the creature turns to face you briefly. "It was you who created me after all. Everything is perfectly splendid."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #monster x human #monster x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #gender neutral reader #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere creation

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simpee9000 · 4 months ago

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Not Just Friends - 4 -

M.List : Prologue : Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Not edited : 3.8k words

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

You've spent the past week working through Katsuki's watch. Only putting it down when handed a time restricted request for a support item fix. Testing the quirk removing feature on Mei and a few others around. Since you couldn't remove your own, at least you wouldn't realize until a week or so.

Once all the kinks were worked out, you placed it in a nice sleek black watch box. Tying it closed with a burnt orange ribbon. You were giving it to him as a gift, just like all the other watches you've given him in the past. This one just a lot more expensive and fully designed by you.

It was already Friday by the time the watch was done, completing two days before you said you would.

Friday's were also the days that Katsuki worked at his own agency a couple blocks away. So after getting a cab to his agency, you walked through the door. Instantly being recognized by the security team for the office and being allowed through with only a quick screening, just in case someone was pretending to be you. You smiled at the receptionist, giving a quick wave before you headed to the elevator.

After pushing in the button for the top floor, the floor that only held him and his closest heroes, you opened your phone to check the time. It was right before his lunch started, which meant he would likely be getting out of the showers. He always took a shower after first patrol and once getting home.

The task of looking at your phone made you think of making yourself a watch, maybe with a support item for yourself incase within. Break-ins for support items were getting a lot more common now days and you couldn't be safe enough. With nanotechnology you could probably make an upgraded suit to the one you've made in high school, that shared many similarities to Iron-man's.

Before you could ramble in your own brain about the idea anymore, you reached Katsuki's floor. Stepping out of the elevator and greeting his manger who was sitting just outside Katsuki's office in his own desk.

"How's your day so far, Tanaka?" you smiled at him.

He looked up at you, "I work with Dynamight," he said plainly and looked back down to his monitor. He reminded you of Shoto that way. Blunt and straight to the point.

You laughed lightly, "Right, he can be a lot." You looked around the office for a moment, "I'm assuming he is still in the showers."

"You'd be correct," his monotone voice would of made you feel stupid if you didn't know him. He's always like this, never changing his tone. He was always one steady mood, it's the main reason Katsuki chose him. Tanaka wouldn't get upset, but rather not take no as an answer. Which Katsuki hated but needed at the same time. It helped his press a lot.

You rocked on your heels for a moment, "Well, I'm going to wait in his office."

"Wait," he paused you, his face slightly paled. He looked stressed.

"What?"

"He told me not to let you in there without him," he answered, face back to normal without the threat of you going in the office.

Your brows furrowed, "Why?"

He shrugged, "Just made it clear to not let you in."

"Okay?" you stood confused on what to do. Kirishima wasn't in the office yet, and neither was Denki or Sero. It was the main reason Katsuki had lunch at this time. "Do you have anything I can help on then?"

He looked at you from over his glasses, "I suppose. Do you think he is more likely to do an interview with Heroes' Gossip or a fan signing at a Hero Expo next week?"

Katsuki hated both those things. Heroes Gossip was exactly that, heroes' gossip, and it got into the nitty gritty details. People who did well on that show were Heroes like Denki and Sero, ones with enough charm to by pass and person questions. Katsuki only went on once, and it was a train wreck, they brought up the details of his childhood with Deku and you. Asking how he felt about the idea of you and Izuku dating. It set him off.

On the other hand, he hated standing or sitting in one area for too long, especially signing things for fans all day long. It was hell on earth for him. He'd have to deal with fan girls trying to grab at him as well as older people criticizing his work.

"I think a Hero Expo might be better, as long as there isn't a hero he hates there and it isn't longer than three hours," you gave your feedback.

"You don't think he's over the last interview?" Tanaka rubbed at his eyes under his glasses.

You hummed, "He likely is, but that doesn't mean that it won't happen again. It'd be another PR nightmare."

"What is?" you looked towards the voice. Giving Katsuki a bright smile.

"Just you," you teased.

"Fuck off," he grumbled, walking past you and to his office door.

"Am I allowed in now?" you stepped alongside him.

Katsuki looked at his manger, giving him rare look of appreciation, and opened his door, "Yeah, Tanaka got food for a us a little bit ago. Should still be warm."

He opened the door for you, letting you walk in first and stepping in behind you, letting the door fall shut.

"What's up with the extra chair?" you pointed towards the chair that sat to the side that matched the one at his desk.

He walked towards the chair, grabbing in at rolling it to sit on the other side of the desk, "Yours, you always fuckin' steal mine."

You flushed at the gift. It was a open invitation into his office. It showed your place next to him. You ran your hand over the top of the chair, spinning it around to see the small details of your favorite color in the stitching. He custom ordered it.

"Thank you," you smiled at him, "You're the best." Finally, you take a seat and rolling it closer to his desk in order to eat. Setting your bag down next to you.

He flushed at the praise. "Tanaka got some of the food you likely from down the street," he pushed a takeout box near you. You instantly opened it, seeing it filled with your favorite order. It was a small sushi bar that you went to often, loving their rolls. Kirishima showed it to you after Fat Gum showed him.

You cracked open a pair of chopsticks that were left on top of the takeout box. Quickly looking to see that he was already digging in, obviously starving from work. "Busy day?" you asked picking up some food and eating a bite.

"Two bank robberies from one group. Pain in my ass," he grumbled, quickly scarfing down more food. After he physically couldn't fit more food in his mouth, he swallowed and drank some water before adding, "Got their asses though."

You nodded along, eating your food at a normal human pace.

"You do anything?" he put picked up another sushi roll in his chopsticks, dipping it in a spicy soy sauce.

The watch in you bag basically burned you with how quickly you remembered about it. Excited to finally give it to him. Before the look could wash over your face, you schooled your features. "Just normal work, Mei blew up some of her new project, so that was something." You were slightly surprised he hasn't brought up his watch to you recently. But you figured it was because his quirk calmed down a little, you haven't seen it act up since Tuesday.

"Isn't she always doing shit like that?" he asked, pointing his chopsticks at you.

"Yeah," you laughed. Looking down at his box you saw he only had two pieces left when he order two full rolls. "God damn vacuum cleaner," you laughed at him.

"Fuck off," Katsuki barked, "I was fucking workin' my ass off today."

"Still, god damn," you often teased him for how fast he eat compare to you. While he was on his last bites, you still had five to go. It wasn't that you were a slow eater, he was just a insane person.

He bit down on the last bites of food. Grumbling and crossing his arms. Proving whatever point he had.

Katsuki went on about his day as you finished up your food, going over how the chase went and what quirks the people had. It was the normal conversation of your lunches. He shared what he could about his job and you did the same.

Once you were done, he grabbed your take-out and threw away your trash. Harshly falling back into his chair, black with orange lining, matching yours.

You looked over his face, idly listening to him go own about his day as you admired him. He had a scar covering the right side of his face. Looking at it too long reminded you of what happened that day. The thought made you want to through up. Quickly, you pinched the fat of your thigh, reminding yourself of the present. You often went into thoughts like these. It was painful but the life of a pro heroes girlfriend.

Rather than dwell on his injury, you looked over the rest of him. His eyes were bright with a fire as he explained how he saved a kid from being buried in cement. You looked over the broad length of his chest, watching it rise with his breathing. Scanning down his arms till you saw his rough fingers drumming across the desk. All the small ways the proved he was alive.

"You good?"

The sudden question knocked you out of thought, you plastered on a smile, "Yeah."

His face scrunched up. before he could call bullshit you moved to reach for your bag.

"I actually brought you something too," you move your hand around your bag before you brought up the watch case. You placed it in the middle of the desk. His face was blank but his eyes were running over the box like crazy. You pushed it towards him when he didn't make a move for it, "Open it."

He glanced up at you, receiving a nod of encouragement, before he grabbed the box. Despite being a rough person, in attitude and everything else, he undid the box as carefully as possible. Sliding the ribbon off and opening the box slowly, as it would shatter.

His hands started shaking at the sight of it. In fear of dropping it, he rushed to place it back on the table. Frantically wiping his hands on his pants.

"Do you like it?" you questioned, worried from his reaction.

"How does it work?" he replied instead, picking it up and putting on his right hand.

Relieved that he liked it enough to immediately wear it, you leaned to point at the watch. "So if you twist this dial to the left one click, then to the right two clicks, and then back to the left for three click, you will have it unlock for identification, " you explained the detailed process. He wanted to make sure that no one else could unlock it and you made sure of it. Even you couldn't activate it once you set passwords in place. "Finally, see how it says 100% that's what your quirk is at right now, so turn it to zero and see how you feel," you sat back in your seat, watching him turn the dial.

He looked like a kid on Christmas as he spun it to 0%, his eyes flicked to you, "So I can try to use my quirk and it won't work?" You nodded.

With the dial at 0% he immediately felt the difference, the constant buzz of his quirk washing away, leaving just the buzz of your presence to warm him. He raised his hand outwards, still weary as he tried to set off his quirk, getting no spark or feeling of it at all. He tested a stronger explosion but received none.

"It fuckin' works," he smiled almost wolfish. You could see the ideas running though his brain at the lack of spark.

He played with the dial a little bit, seeing how the 20% and 40% suppressed his quirk. You glanced at the clock above his desk, seeing your lunch almost up. You'd have to leave soon if you wanted to stay on schedule. "Will this help your quirk training?" you asked, making sure he got what he needed.

"Huh?" he looked down at you from where he was standing and testing his quirk.

"You asked Z' about it for quirk training, that and your quirk's been weird," you filled in the gaps, lost as to how he didn't understand what you were talking about.

He let out a cough followed by a nervous laugh, "Yeah, should work great."

You shot him a look at his odd behavior, picking up your bag and standing to leave.

"What's your plans tonight," he fumbled with his words slightly.

"None?" you hiked the bag better unto your back, grabbing your phone so you could place an uber back to your agency. You didn't have your walking shoes on today. "I was just going to head home and read," you finished answering, "Why?" You quickly finished placing an uber before looking back up at him, confused once again.

His face flushed, " Ramen then? At out favorite spot," he stumbled to add on.

Your face softened. That was your main date spot, only used on highly celebrated dates or anniversaries. "Why there?"

"Just want to have a date with you," he mumbled, face now bright red.

"That happy about the watch? Kats you don't need to take me to dinner, I make you support gear all the time," you stepped closer to him, having been separated by his desk before he stepped around to you as well.

"You wanna go or not?" he huffed, fed up with being embarrassed.

"We don't need to-"

"Do you want to? Cause I want to," he cut you off, he crossed his arms as he leaned into his desk, you standing in front of him.

"Sure," you held back the tease, not wanting to set him off.

"Good, we'll leave home at seven," he pushed off from the desk, walking you out to the door.

You smiled at him, "See you then."

---

The ramen joint was fancy and hidden. Hardly anyone went there if they didn't want extreme privacy. It was something you and Katsuki quickly learned that you needed in your relationship. The public didn't fully know about your relationship, but they did know you two were close and childhood friends. So people speculated off that. So to avoid rumors, Katsuki and you went to hidden gem restaurants.

This ramen joint being a favorite, it was lit purely off candles or warm low lights. It was one of the only, if not the only, romantic restaurants that you two went to. Cozy lights with a dress code of formal.

So the two you walked up to the door, Katsuki offering a hand to help you up the stairs before the restaurant. While your heels and dress didn't make it too difficult, it was nice that it was offered. After grabbing his hand, you expected him to let go at the top of the stairs, but he led you through the restaurant, following the hostess and dragging you along.

Only when at the table he let go. Once the waiter got your drink orders Katsuki fumbled with his hands, "Thanks for the watch."

"Kats, it's nothing," you laughed off, "I've made you many support items, I don't know why you're so happy about this one." His face flushed at the call out. It really confused you, he seemed thrilled that he could turn off his quirk. It was honestly sad. Before you could ask anymore, the waiter gave you your sake and water before taking your food order. The service was great, but annoying for conversation currently.

"Just noticed the detail in this one," he shrugged, "fits me well and shit."

Now he was trying to play it cool? It was all weird.

"Are you sure you're telling me everything?" you accused.

"How was work this week? We spent lunch talkin' 'bout mine," he redirected the conversation.

You shot him another glare at his weird behavior, you'd figure him out eventually. For now you'd have a nice dinner with him.

---

Dinner was just that. Nothing much more. Service was great, so was the food, but conversation was horrible. He dodged any question towards himself, even if it was small. It was all about you and it felt wrong, in a strange way.

The two of you walked the short way back to your apartment. But with looking up at the sky, you regretted that decision. Small water droplets cover the sidewalk slowly. The rain painting it slowly. The streets were empty at only 9pm, you should of taken that as a sign of bad weather. Regardless, the two of you continued walking, him grabbing your hand once out of the restaurant. It was weird, but you let the thought fade at the chance to hold unto him for a little longer.

You swayed in your steps taking up the sidewalk as you stretched your arm to stay linked with Katsuki. He gave you a smile at your behavior. Making you flush and focus more heavily on your step. It reminded you of the romance movies the described this exact situation. A couple walking in the rain, late at night, streets empty as they confessed their love.

Katsuki tugged you towards him, spinning you into his hold, his hand letting go of your and grabbing onto your hips and you leaned into him. Your hands resting on his chest from surprise at the sudden change.

"You got that look on your face again," he smirked down at you. While used to his smile over the years, his smirk still made you weak in the knees.

"Huh?"

"You have a face you make when your thinking on your shitty romance movies," he pointed out.

"I do not," you pouted.

"Yeah it's like this," he scrunched him face to mimic yours horribly.

"Is not," you slapped his chest lightly, "I'd be surprised if you dated me while I made that face."

"Uh huh?" he teased, "cause it was spot on."

You rolled your eyes, face red from being in his hold.

"So what were you thinkin'?" he pushed, squeezing your hips slightly.

"Just all those movies with couples," you dodged until he squeezed again. "Fine, couples kissing in the rain, happy?"

His face flushed, matching the red hue on yours, before he looked up to avoided your stare. You were surprised he was holding you in general, but the fact he hasn't let go truly stunned you. Hugs between you two didn't last longer than a couple seconds. And this was a lot more romantic than a hug.

"Do you wanna?" he looked back down, his eyes tracing over your face between landing on your lips.

"Wh..what?" you stuttered. He looked back up to your eyes.

"Do you want to kiss?" he spelt out for you, face becoming impossibly redder.

"Yeah," you breathed out, looking down to his lips before both your eyes shot to look at each other. Making sure this was okay.

The tension was shooting through your bones. He hasn't offered to kiss since graduation, which was over a year ago.

He pulled his hand away from your waist and up to your face, wiping away the rain that fell on your cheek before he slowly leaned in. You eyes fluttered shut before you felt his lips hit yours. Instantly melting into the new feeling.

Every time before he was either freshly from the hospital or the two of you were excited and let it run you into a kiss that only lasted a moment before you were off running to friends and family during graduation.

Your knees caved slightly, letting you fall even deeper into the kiss, deeper into him, as you tilted your head. The kiss was just like him, explosive. It left you buzzing as he pulled away for a breath.

He rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes before breathing out heavily, "I'm sorry we don't do that often enough."

Your once closed eyes shot up, you slightly pushed away from him, "What?"

He furrowed his eyebrows, "I just wish I haven't been holding that out of our relationship."

You pushed yourself out of his hold, stepping back, "Katsuki Bakugo."

"What?" he almost demanded.

"I told you that I was fine without physical touch. I've been fine without it. Yet the second you've found out, you've been weird," you pushed a finger into his chest, "Now your kissing me, saying sorry? How do you think that makes me feel?"

He shook his head, "I don't see the problem."

"Of course you don't," you basically lectured, "Our relationship has been steady. Sure it hasn't been typical, but it's been us. Yet the second someone mentions that I like touch, you've been all weird."

"I want to make you happy? Is that fuckin' horrible?" Katsuki huffed.

You scoff, "No, but you were already making me happy. Now you are doubting our relationship, not telling me about your quirk issues, and worst of all, pushing yourself when I didn't ask. If you aren't ready for things that's fine! If your never ready, that's also fine. I just want you Katsuki. I want the you that doesn't give two fucks about what anyone thinks."

His head hung, his hands coming up to rub at his face. "I don't know how to fuckin' do this shit," he mumbled.

You stepped closer to him, "Just stop worrying about every little thing. I'm with you, you don't have to win me again. Just do what you want and I'll tell you if I have an issue."

"And what if what I want is to kiss you more and other stupid shit," he muttered under his breath.

Your face flamed with the comment, "Well," you cleared you throat, "if that's what you want, then I'd be happy to. But only if it's what you actually want."

"Of fuckin' course it is, why wouldn't I want to kiss my damn girlfriend," his wolfish grin was back quicker than ever as you pulled you into him. Quickly getting over the little spat the two of you just had.

"I don't know, you haven't wanted to before," you shrugged in his hold.

"Oh I've wanted to," he protested.

"Then why haven't you?" you tilted your head.

"Reasons," he took your held tilt as an opening, slotting his lips against yours. You slapped at his shoulder for dodging the question but you quickly moved to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. He hugs you closer as he swayed the two of you in your kiss. Letting the rain soak the two of you to the bone without a second thought. Only worried about the one in front of you. Any worry dripping out of your soul just as the water dripped out of your clothes. Because even though he hated the rain, he loved you more.

-Next Part-

In them m.list of this fic comment if you want to be added into a tag list <3

I'll no longer add people to the taglist if they haven't commented there. It's too much to keep up with all the new part. Hope you understand <3

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nellielsss · 5 months ago

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ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ?! (;° ロ°)

Summary: When the relationship is so well, you tend to forget a lot of things... such as your inability to drive A/N: So... this is inspired by my current predicament 😭 I've put off getting my license for a while now but I'm getting it next week!! You're still welcome to read if you can drive. Pairing: Satoru Gojo, Toji Fushiguro, Kento Nanami, Yami Sukehiro x reader CW: light teasing (reader can't drive obvi), mentions of car accidents, pure fluff, reader is married to Nanami, sexual jokes (Toji)

Kҽɳƚσ Nαɳαɱι

╰┈➤ One of the hottest sights to see was whenever your fiancé, Kento Nanami, put his arm on his seat so he could put the car in reverse and pull out of the parking spot. You didn't know exactly what that did, given the fact that you two rarely had to drive in the middle of Tokyo, but you still appreciated whenever he offered to drive the two of you out on dates.

"Those heels are pretty high, honey, are you sure you won't get too sore?" was something he said whenever you went out on date nights all dressed up for him.

"I like to look cute for you, Kenny," you pouted, putting the final strap of your sandals on.

"Sweetheart, you don't have to wear those ankle killers to look cute for me," he said with a chuckle, the smile breaking his usually calm and stoic expression. "You could wear a pair of flats or sneakers and still look like the most beautiful woman on earth to me."

"Don't get it twisted; I also like to look cute for me," you retorted once more, making him laugh again.

"Have it your way, sweetheart. I have to say: you do look quite cute right now. Now, would you like to take the car, call a cab, or take the metro?"

Right now, the two of you were getting quite serious in your relationship. It was time for you to abandon your 1 bed/1 bath apartments and upgrade to a bigger place for the two of you. It's worth mentioning that you both had different ideas of what the perfect place to live was: you liked living in the heart of the city, and a 2 bedroom apartment in a cosmopolitan area, close to plenty of subway stations and yummy restaurants to try; Nanami liked his peace and quiet, and that usually involved a long commute (much to your dismay). In the end, you settled on a house in a neighborhood that was perfectly close to what was going on and also far enough out that Nanami got some much needed rest and relaxation.

One of the problems of said neighborhood was the faulty subway stations that were frequently in disrepair. Most of the residents in your area drove cars in order to get places which meant that the neighborhood board didn't feel it was necessary to renovate the subway stations. This was bad news for you because you were one of the only people who took it everywhere they went. So, when the one closest to your house was under complete renovation for the week, you were left stranded and had to go wherever Kento went.

What was even more unfortunate was that one day, you had to specifically ask him for a ride to get somewhere. He was currently resting on the couch, having the day off, so you couldn't exactly hitch a ride and get dropped off somewhere close to where you were heading.

"Sure thing," was what he said without a second thought. You breathed a sigh of relief and were glad that the most embarrassing part was over, only for him to ask: "if you don't mind me asking, why did you need to ask me to give you one? Can't you take the car on your own?"

"Um... well," you said, a little nervous by the sudden questions. You then looked up at your boyfriend who now had a questioning look on his face.

"See, I could, but then I'd probably crash it... because I don't know how to drive."

And there it was: the ugly truth baring its fangs at your handsome fiancé. During your three years of dating and your one year of engagement, he'd never figured out why he was always the one driving or why you always took the subway everywhere you went.

"How come?" he asked in a tone that was neither judgmental nor harsh.

"So, you see," you started, trying to make it sound as normal as you possibly could. "I'm... afraid of car accidents. Very afraid of them," you said with a slight frown. "And I'm afraid that I wouldn't be capable enough to handle such a big piece of metal without something bad happening. What if I lost control over the steering wheel or the gas pedal got jammed and I... took another person's life?" You looked at the floor out of embarrassment. "Hah, would you look at that: a 28 year old who can't drive."

Kento looked at you, this time with an apologetic smile on his face. He reached out, cupped your cheek, and brought your gaze back to his. "(Y/N), don't be embarrassed. There are plenty of people who get by and live their day-to-day lives without needing a car. But, you need to understand that knowing how to drive is a very helpful skill in life. What if you were far away from any metropolitan areas and someone you were with got into a bad accident, and you had to drive them to the hospital?"

You looked up at him like a kicked puppy, a shy smile gracing your features. He always knew the best things to say for times like these. "You're right: I should know how to drive. I guess I just never got around to it," you said with a small huff through your nose. "You really are too kind to me, Ken. Anyone else would've turned their nose at me and passed me off as someone incapable."

"Why would I ever turn my nose at you, sweetheart?" He asked, his hand still on your cheek, now rubbing it with his thumb. "You still have plenty of wonderful qualities worth celebrating. And, you're right: you just never got around to it."

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Why don't I teach you how to drive? I've been told I'm a great driver by people very close to me," he offered, making you giggle.

"You're simply the best fiancé, Ken. You'd really do that for me?"

"For you? I'd do anything. Now, let's fill out a permit form and get you that license."

"Alright, first thing's first: let's get out of this parking spot," Kento said, his hand steady and guiding yours as he gave you a demonstration. "Turn the steering wheel left, and the car will back up in that same direction, and vice versa for turning right."

"Okay," you said, determined to get out of that spot.

You began to reverse, only for him to stop you: "stop, stop, stop the car." You freaked out and looked at him, abruptly pressing the brake pedal. "Honey, you can't just reverse without looking behind you; there could've been a child!"

Speaking of the devil: there was a child walking behind the car.

"Shit... sorry," you said, biting your lip out of worry. He just sighed and shook his head.

"Make sure to use the backup camera; although on the actual test itself, you won't be able to use it, so it's best that you use your head to turn for now. Here, this is what you do when you reverse." He grabbed the steering wheel with one hand and turned his head in the opposite direction, and you almost got distracted by the veins on his forearms when he said: "eyes on me, sweetheart."

"Sorry, babe." You smiled at him bashfully before mimicking the action, reversing just as he'd directed you.

"That's it, honey, you're already doing so well," he said encouragingly, reaching out to press a kiss to your forehead.

Praise always made your stomach flip, even in non-sexual situations.

"Keep it up, and you'll be better than me in no time."

Sαƚσɾυ Gσʝσ

╰┈➤ Satoru Gojo was good at everything, and you knew that even before you got into a relationship with the powerful sorcerer. You'd always heard stories from both his friends and strangers about how he could accomplish anything very quickly with only a single demonstration given on how to do it. This man could do everything: play soccer, ballroom dance, speak 30 languages (according to him), and he was even good at chemistry! If you weren't the man's pride and joy--the man's girlfriend--then it would've been really annoying to put up with such nonchalant skill.

He still made sure to tease you from time to time, saying that he could do whatever you could do but with tenfold skill (he really could; he just didn't want you to grow resentful of him (not that you would)). These claims were usually never backed up because at the end of the day, he knew that he was just joking with you.

One of the best things about having Satoru Gojo as your boyfriend was him being your personal chauffeur who could drive you anywhere he wanted in the least amount of time with the most amount of efficiency possible. He was even good at riding motorcycles which you usually weren't too fond of, given how dangerous they were.

But, oh, how his teasing tongue was just so irritating whenever he decided to use it. The man was an amazing boyfriend and an even more amazing best friend, but he could also be really cocky at times and for good reason.

"Satoruuu, I wanna go shopping," you drawled out, your arms landing around his broad shoulders and pulling his attention from the stack of papers on his desk to you. "Mind taking me?" You knew the man couldn't possibly resist because of his love for shopping which was greater than yours (seriously, how was it possible that someone loved shopping more than you?)

Satoru chuckled and gave you his trademark cocky grin. "You're asking me for a ride like I'm your personal chauffeur, eh?"

"Is that not what you are?" you quipped back, making him feign hurt.

"I'm hurt; my girlfriend's been using me this entire time for rides!" he said sarcastically, putting his hand on his forehead for added effect.

"Like you don't love going shopping more than I do," you scoffed, taking your hands off his shoulders and putting them back on your hips. "C'mon; you and I both know you can't resist a good shopping trip."

"Never said I was trying to," he said, standing up from the chair and stretching his long legs out. "I've been needing an excuse to escape these papers, anyway. Always so stupidly menial and boring."

"You're the one who wanted to be a teacher."

"Yeah, so I could raise a couple nice generations of kids; not so I could raise my blood pressure with these papers that need grading!"

"Be glad you only have, like, 10 kids to worry about--some teachers have 30 per class. And even then, it's basically 9 kids to grade, since Yuji's papers are never that hard to grade."

"That's true," he acquiesced with a snicker, shaking his head at the boy's... delayed learning.

"Anyway, I'll grab my purse, and you grab your sunglasses," you said, walking away to get said purse from your closet. Once you did, you returned to find Satoru waiting outside, perched against the car nonchalantly.

"Ready to spend my money?"

"You know it, baby," you giggled, making him shake his head. Once in the car, he did his thing and reversed out of the space, driving to the mall with the skill of an F1 racer.

Along the way, his tongue was just itching to say something to you, though: "Y'know, princess, I find it funny how you're always needing me to drive places. You're like my little passenger princess," he crooned, patting your head, only to be met with your swatting hands. "It's like you can't even drive."

That little quip, while it may have had innocent intentions, made you freeze up for a moment.

That's right: Satoru didn't know about your lack of driving ability.

"Cat got your tongue?" he asked, looking over at you while his hands effortlessly rotated the steering wheel for a turn.

"More like my license," you muttered, making his teasing smile drop.

"Huh?"

"Are you as clueless as you are tall?" you asked, looking up from your phone at him, face scrunched up like an angry kitten. "I'm saying I can't drive."

That confession almost made Satoru hit the brakes in the middle of a busy road. "You can't drive?!"

"No!" you said, a little angrier and louder than you'd meant it to be. It was clear that he'd hit a sore spot, so he cooled off the accusations and the teasing. "I can't drive... I never learned how to. I was supposed to learn it when I was younger, but I... y'know, just forgot to! It slipped my mind, was all." Satoru let the weight of your words sink in, realizing that this was a big insecurity for you, judging by the defensive tone.

"Baby, I'm sorry for provoking you like that," he said. He only ever used the pet name "baby" for when you were either mad at him or in just a plain bad mood. "I had no idea."

"How could you have? I never told you," you scoffed.

"Well, that part is true... still, I should've known something was up. You always love car rides--you get to blast your music at full volume--but you never actually wanna drive yourself," he chuckled, trying to lighten up the mood.

"It's always been an insecurity for me." You leaned forward, your elbows resting on the dashboard temporarily. "My friends--our friends don't give two shits about that kinda stuff unless they don't get gas money, but whenever old-heads find that out they make it seem like you have stage 4 breast cancer. 'Oh, you can't drive? However will you get around places?' Uh, I dunno, the metro?" Your little joke about geriatric seniors not minding their businesses made him laugh.

"You tell 'em."

"I was gonna learn, I even promised myself I would... but then I met you, and I started dating you, and you were just such a good driver that I felt it wasn't necessary to learn..." He was about to say something when you decided to continue: "... but it's wrong for me to rely on you for everything. I'm an adult; I should be able to do stuff on my own, even if I have a boyfriend who makes everything easier for me."

Satoru's face relaxed into a soft smile, and he glanced over at you while still driving. "That's true--that's all very true. You are an adult, even if you're still my princess," he said while ruffling your hair. "Tell you what: in order to repay me all those car rides I've given you, you have to let me teach you how to drive."

You looked over at him, your smile replaced by a soft look of shock with your lips slightly parted. "Really? You'd do that for me?"

"What kind of a man would I be if I let my girl struggle to learn with some old hag who barks at their students?" he asked with a toothy, cocky grin. "It's just like you said: I'm the best driver you know, so why not train with the best?"

"Satoru..." you leaned in suddenly, pressing a big kiss to his cheek. "You're the best! Thank you so much!"

"I know, I know," he chuckled, his pale cheeks slightly red from the praise. You then whacked him upside the head, making him let out an "ow!"

"Cocky bastard," you said under your breath.

"Alright, don't forget to use your turn signals, baby," he said, reaching out to turn it on.

"Right," you said with an apologetic smile. He was just like a mother hen when he taught you how to do stuff. Seriously, how could Yuji have been such a bad student? You were currently on your sixth driving lesson with your boyfriend, and you were already a better driver than most people you knew (except for him, of course).

"And keep your eyes on the road- watch out!" You were about to cross an intersection when an elderly lady was crossing the street. She barked some curses at you in Japanese before continuing on her way.

"Sorry!" You said to both him and the old lady.

"It's alright, you're still doing great," he said with a proud smile on his face. "See that sign up there? It says 'yield to pedestrians' which means you have to slow down and let any and all pedestrians cross before continuing. It's not your fault 100%; that lady was quite slow and small, but still, you have to keep your focus on the road at all times. No daydreaming or zoning off, no matter how hot your driving instructor is." He flashed you one of his cocky Satoru smiles before you whacked him upside the head again. "Ow! ... anyway, let's spin the block once more before calling it a day, yeah? I'll cut the lesson short since you've been doing so good."

"Can we get frozen yogurt after?" you asked, making sure your focus was still on the road.

"We can get anything as long as it satisfies my sweet tooth and doesn't break the bank."

As if his bank account wasn't literally limitless.

As you spun around the block once more, making sure not to hit any little old ladies or small children, you muttered an "I love you" under your breath.

"What was that, baby?" he asked, turning his ear to face you, "I don't think I caught what you said."

"I said I love you," you said, rolling your eyes out of how needy he was.

"That's the spirit." He smiled at you before relaxing into the seat, still keeping his focus for the two of you. "Y'know, maybe later, you can repay your gratitude to your super awesome and amazing and sexy boyfriend for being such an amazing teacher."

"In your dreams, snow leopard," you jested sarcastically.

Satoru merely chuckled and changed the song on the radio to something he liked better.

"Yeah, I sure as hell will be dreaming of it."

Tσʝι Fυʂԋιɠυɾσ

╰┈➤ Your man, Toji Fushiguro, radiated dilf energy from every fiber of his being. Even though you and him had yet to marry--let alone have kids, you knew that, one day, he was gonna be an amazing (and super sexy) father to your children. You already had baby names picked out for said future children, even though you'd still like to enjoy your youth before having them; you didn't wanna waste your youth on diapers when you could be getting turnt.

One of the things that made Toji so dilf-y in your eyes was the way he drove. You know that specific way that fathers drive the family van at a moderately-fast but not illegal speed & how they look so good doing it? Like they were built to be Nascar drivers? Yeah, that's how Toji drove, with his sexy girlfriend in the passenger seat to boot. A small part of him loved it when guys driving in the next lane over could see a beautiful chick & gained the slightest bit of hope that they could get your number before the light turned green... only to have their dreams crushed by the sight of the oh-so hot and oh-so intimidating man who was driving said car, his thick forearms on display and his veins popping while he had his hands on the steering wheel. They couldn't see his eyes through the sunglasses he wore, but they could tell that he was all but sneering at them. They'd look like little boys next to him, after all.

He also especially loved it when you two pulled over at the nearest secluded parking lot, horny out of your fucking minds and unable to resist each other's touch, and he especially loved it when you sucked his dick in the backseat and then rode his cock like your life depended on it (in that same backseat, of course).

Yeah, you guess you could say you loved it when Toji drove the two of you places. "Just sit back and let your boyfriend be your chauffeur, doll," was his tagline whenever you two hopped into the car.

You wouldn't deny him the opportunity to drive you around, especially since you couldn't drive.

Those little moments in the car would be put on hold, however, when Toji's arm got severely wounded while fighting a particularly pesky target. Not only that, but it was his good driving arm that he couldn't drive without!

It should've been fine, since he had superhuman healing powers and therefore only had to wear an arm-cast for a day or two. He had the day off, and he'd be damned if some stupid injury got in the way of enjoying his day off with his favorite girl. You'd also just be the one driving around, he presumed.

"Hey, sweetheart," his gruff voice said into your ear, making you jump out of surprise. "Sorry for spookin' ya," he said with a laugh, ruffling your hair with the hand that wasn't broken.

"Don't scare me like that; you know how silent you can be."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just too good of an assassin," he quipped, his laughter piping down. "Why don't the two of us go out and get somethin' to eat, and maybe get a dessert afterwards? You know I love something sweet to eat." You raised your eyebrows when he mentioned dessert, knowing damn well that his idea of "dessert" eating your ass. "Nah, nah, not that kinda dessert; I'm in the mood for a parfait or two. I've recently developed a sweet tooth because of your sweet ass."

"Or two?" you asked mockingly, raising your eyebrow.

"Big boys gotta eat big meals, am I right?" he asked, that classic Toji smirk never leaving his face. "C'mon, I'll even pay for it."

"Sure, sure, where do you wanna eat?"

Toji shrugged. "Doesn't make a difference to me as long as the restaurant's good."

"Alright, lemme just get my suica card."

"Don't you wanna drive instead? I know damn well you ain't walkin' in those heels, baby," he said, looking down at the 4-inch heels you were wearing. "Plus, I don't wanna ride the subway when I've got this big-ass cast on."

"O-Oh, um," you started stammering a little, not wanting to let him know that you couldn't drive while also not trying to argue with him.

Toji, however, in his infinite perceptiveness, saw you stammering, and that little smirk faltered a little. He looked at you with question, wondering why you were at a loss for words when it came to driving you two to the restaurant. "Somethin' wrong, baby? What's got you stuttering?"

"Um... well, the reason is because I can't drive."

Toji stared at you for a few seconds, letting the information sink in. "Doll, you can't drive?"

"N-No, I can't drive! I... never got my license," you said, your voice gradually diminishing in size. "I just didn't get one when I was younger, okay? Don't judge me for it!" you added defensively, crossing your arms over your pink top.

"Calm down, baby, I'm not judging you for anything," Toji said, raising his one hand to calm you down. "It's alright if you can't drive; if anything, it's cute."

"Cute?" you repeated back.

He chuckled for a few seconds and explained his reasoning. "Yeah: it's cute as hell that you need me to drive you around everywhere. You're like a cute little kitten: all defensive and hissy, but still dependent on me." He stepped closer and ruffled your hair for a few seconds to which you didn't swat his hand away. When he finally removed his hand and put it on his hip, he reached to take his phone out of his pocket. "So, should we take an Uber?"

"Yeah, if you want to," you sighed, rubbing your forehead and squeezing your cheeks together out of worry.

"Hey, hey, don't be so strung up, doll," he said, trying to relieve some of the tension in your body. "Once I get all patched up and take this stupid cast off my arm, you'll be back to being my passenger princess." He flashed you a crooked grin, trying to alleviate your mood.

"I know you will, but what if it's a more serious injury? What if you couldn't use your arm for a month or two--what if you lost your arm?" you asked, furrowing your brow in stress and pouting as well.

Toji sighed, giving you an apologetic smile. "You're right. Plus, driving's a good skill that could come in handy someday. I know we've got great transit in Tokyo, but if we were to live somewhere smaller with less public transit, what'd we do if we couldn't drive?"

"As if I'd live anywhere with less shopping," you scoffed, making him chuckle.

"I'm just saying: we can't just rely on public transit alone."

You took a deep breath, calming yourself down and getting rid of the attitude. "You're right, you're right, I just got a little tense. Driving is a necessary skill which could come in handy one day."

"Damn straight, doll," he agreed with a chuckle. "Right now, let's just take that Uber and get somethin' to eat, 'kay? We'll figure out all that driving shit later."

"Alright, doll, keep your eyes on the road and not on your man's arms," he instructed you, making you snap out of the trance that his arms had unintentionally put you in.

"Maybe don't have arms worth drooling over," you sassed, making him chuckle.

"Hey, I'm just tryin' to give my girl somethin' sturdy to hold onto when she wants it," he retorted, putting his hands up in defense, still keeping that smirk on his face. "Anyway, just look straight ahead, and nothing should get in the- shit, watch out!"

Out of nowhere, a red car sped through the street, rounding the corner very sharply and almost hitting your car as it did so. You immediately hit the brakes, startled beyond all belief with the hair on your arms standing up. "Sorry, sorry," you mumbled. "I didn't see that car."

"I know you didn't. Don't worry 's not your fault; it's their fault, if anything. Fuckin' assholes don't know how to control their fuckin' cars," he spat, rubbing your shoulder as the red car sped off. "But, that's why it's important to keep your eyes on the road: you can keep watch and make sure that some shitty ass driver doesn't hit you and get you into an accident."

You nodded, keeping that fact in mind. "Alright: keep my eyes on the road." You took a deep breath, making sure that there weren't any out-of-control drivers headed your way.

"So cute when you focus," he muttered under his breath. He watched as you changed lanes, rounded corners smoothly, and stopped perfectly at the red lights. "Good job, good job!" he praised enthusiastically, clapping just to add effect. "You're already doing such an amazing job!"

You smiled and looked away bashfully, still keeping your focus on the road. "Thank you, thank you," you giggled, accepting any and all praise.

"No; thank you for being a great student and not giving me a fucking heart attack," he chuckled, relaxing into his seat. "Alright, now: drive a few more blocks, and then we can go home and watch whatever chick flick you wanna watch. Maybe afterwards, I can feed you some dessert?"

"Yeah, that sounds-" you stopped talking when you realized what you meant by dessert. "Toji, you pervert!"

He laughed loudly at your reaction and shook his head.

"As if you could resist my desserts; your sweet tooth's just too damn strong for your own good."

Yαɱι Sυƙҽԋιɾσ (modern AU)

╰┈➤ If there was one thing that got Yami Sukehiro's dick hard, it was a strong woman--a woman who didn't take shit from anybody; didn't need to rely on others or be babied; and who most certainly wasn't incapable of handling themselves. Everyone should be able to handle themselves when they're adults because it was what made one an adult!

One of the things that he believed made an adult an adult was getting around on their own, whether it be by car, metro, or even by helicopter (if you had the budget). Your boyfriend and you had different modes of transportation: you chose to take the metro, and Yami liked to drive his car, even if he had terrible road rage and hated traffic (Tokyo's traffic could be terrible on certain days).

"Come on! Hurry your asses up already!!" Yami barked from the driver's seat, honking the horn as loudly as he could. "Shut the hell up, you bastard!!" he barked again when the person behind him honked the horn. Naturally, his first reaction was to honk back ten times harder. "Wish I could teleport or somethin'..."

Regardless of your preferred mode of transportation, he just wanted you to get where you were going efficiently.

One day, after he'd refused forgotten to pay one too many parking tickets, he sadly had his license revoked. He believed that losing your license over tickets was a myth and that you could only lose it over DUIs, but when the police took that little piece of paper away from him, he now knew that it wasn't a myth.

"Hey, honey," his deep and raspy voice said into your ear one morning, "do you think you could give me a ride to work today?" Just to convince you further, he wrapped his big, muscular arms around you and pulled you close to him.

"What do you need a ride for?"

"Um, well... got my license revoked," he mumbled into your ear.

"Hm?"

"I said I got my license revoked," he said louder this time, his arms instinctively tightening around you. He buried his face into your shoulder and avoided your gaze, not wanting to see the judgment on it.

"Suke, why did you get your license revoked?" you asked him, brows furrowing together out of confusion. You turned around in his embrace and grabbed his cheeks, making him look at you.

"I forgot to pay a parking ticket," he mumbled, sighing deeply. His charcoal eyes met yours, and he looked like a kicked puppy.

"Baby, you know I could've helped you with that."

"No," he refuted firmly, shaking his head in response to your offer. "I don't want my girl doing anything I can do with my own two hands; I wouldn't be a man if I let that happen."

You gave him an remorseful smile and now it was your turn to sigh. "You and your chivalry..."

He let out the tiniest whine and hid his face in your hair. "Shut up," he mumbled, "can you just gimme a ride? Please? I'll give you gas money if you need it."

"I can get you a suica if you need one," you offered, shoulders shrugging in his arms.

"Ugh, not the metro--I don't wanna take the metro. Too many things can happen and it'll fuck my timing up if I do." By timing he meant the amount of time he can cuddle with you on the couch before going off to work. "And there's too many people--I just don't like taking it. Can't you take the car instead? Just this once? I know you hate traffic and all, but it'll just be until I get my license back."

All of a sudden, you went quiet, looking off to the side (quite embarrassedly so).

"What're the tight lips for, baby?" he asked, cocking his head to the side out of his obliviousness. "Hey, you know I don't like it when you go silent on me."

"Suke, I can't... I can't drive."

"What do you mean you can't drive? Didn't you get your license when you turned 18?"

"No, I didn't!" you exclaimed, making his brow furrow further. Once he realized that you were serious and not joking around with him, his confused expression turned into a remorseful frown.

"Well, you're an adult! You have to know how to drive!"

"Shut up already!!" you snapped back in response, embarrassed from that same fact that he brought up. He sighed and released you, letting you walk away and cool down for a sec.

"Honey..." he looked down at the floor and then up at you again, his frown still there. "I'm sorry for making you so upset, I just- I've just never met an adult who doesn't know how to drive, so I didn't know how to react."

"That's 'cus you're a blue collar worker who needs to know how to operate a car," you sassed, making him "tch."

"Well, I guess you're right," he conceded with a chuckle. His eyes followed you and, once he saw that you were cooled down, he came closer to you. "C'mere, hon," he coaxed with his arms outstretched, beckoning you to come closer and give him a hug. You didn't say anything and did as he wanted, letting him encircle his arms around you. "I'm sorry for getting you riled up, I really am. I've been trying to control my temper lately, and I slipped up."

"Hell yeah, you did," you mumbled into his thick chest, his pecs making your words come out muffled. "Control that shit if you want cuddles."

He chuckled and shook his head. "For your cuddles, I'll do anything."

"Could you teach me how to drive?" You asked softly, looking up at Yami and offering him the best puppy eyes you could possibly muster up. "I don't wanna be embarrassed the next time someone asks me for a ride."

"Baby, you already gave me enough reason with those puppy eyes," he reassured you, running his calloused fingers through your hair and smiling at you. "Alright, since you asked so nicely, I'll teach you how to drive a car. But fair warning: my road rage isn't to be messed with."

"I know, I know--I've seen said road rage firsthand many times."

He just laughed and rested his chin atop your head again. "So, how many minutes do we have for cuddles before I have to take the metro?"

"Enough to satisfy your little heart."

"Perfect," he sighed, already leading you to the couch for said cuddles.

Later, he'd face-time you for a half hour while angrily trying to figure out how the stupid train lines work, making several people look at him out of fear. "What're you looking at, you little punk?! I'll kick your ass!" he shouted at a rather short man who'd accidentally looked at him the wrong way.

"Yami Sukehiro, don't beat up the other riders!" you scolded him over the phone.

"Hey, eyes on the road at all times!" he barked a little too loudly, making you flinch while keeping your hands steadily on the steering wheel. "And don't you dare take your hands off the steering wheel!" he also said rather loudly.

"I know, I know! Stop shouting and just let me drive!" you shouted back, making his blood vessel pop in his forehead.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead, trying to calm down. "Sorry, sorry, honey; I'm just a little stressed whenever I'm on the road."

"A little?" you asked, almost in disbelief that he could be stressed out "just a little" bit.

"Well, don't give me that look! Driving's dangerous and you can get hurt if you're not focused."

"And who said I wasn't focused?"

"You were staring at my biceps earlier when we were supposed to change lanes." You didn't say anything back, instead looking at the road again with a deep blush on your face. You zeroed in on the road this time, bringing a tiny smile to his face. "I hope you know it doesn't mean anything if I get mad at you; unless we get into an accident, of course. I just care a lot about you, and I don't want some shitty driver getting my honey into a car accident."

"Right, because who would give your big ass all the cuddles you want later?" you asked with a snicker.

"Hey! The correct term is beefy," he retorted, flexing his rather thick arm just to prove a point. You shook your head and managed to keep your eyes on the road, making his smile widen. "Speaking of cuddles, would it be too much to ask if we could cuddle later tonight? Been missing your touch..."

"We cuddled right before this, Suke."

"It's not enough. Did y'know one of my three favorite things is cuddling? This big man right here needs some love and affection from time to time."

"I thought your three favorite things were gambling, beer and sleeping?" You asked, making him pout in a way too cute way. He crossed his arms over his chest and instead turned his eyes back to the road along with you.

"FYI: I quit gambling for you..."

"So, what's this new third favorite thing?" Your question made him chuckle, and he looked at you again.

"You, of course. Now, drive us home so that I can get those cuddles in."

YAMI BRAINROT IS TOO REAL I NEED TO MARRY HIM move over Charlotte

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anticapitalistclown · 4 months ago

Note

what about giving lookism men the remote of a vibrator 👀 especially with jake

omg sure (made a poll and Gun and Goo were the most voted)

Giving Jake, Gun and Goo the remote of your vibrator, smut scenario

Jake

Giving your boyfriend the remote of your vibrator was a spicy idea that fueled the tease he is.

Jake is more of the private type so he only takes use of it in the privacy of home.

You were seated on his lap, hugging his broad shoulders whimpering on his ear, Jake had you seated pretty on his lap, his hands grabbing your hips, his lips kissing your neck and shoulders, on his right hand was the control of your vibrator he pressured the max "good girl *kiss* keep making those sounds *kiss*" you hugged him tighter, and your whimpering turned into moans, your hips moved up and down grinding against his lap "oh you're close?" he grabbed your chin and kissed your lips you nodded at him "let me see that pretty face" you looked pleading at him "so pretty" he chuckled, you were feeling the climax approaching "I'm cumming!" and the vibrator stopped, your face changed completely and your head fell on his shoulder, you bit on his shoulder "c'mon Jakee" you cried but he left a chuckle, Jake broke your orgasm for the third time "m'sorry pretty" he laughed and started the remote to the max, you saw his hand palming his bulge "c'mon grind on it again, this time I won't pause I promise".

Gun

You really want him to take the remote of your vibrator? He's gonna make sure you can't use panties for the next week from the overstimulation

He doesn't care using on public he indeed will do it occasionally but he prefers using it at home so he can see your fucked up expression

Gun had you handcuffed, your hands and feet restrained between them, your face down and your ass up in bed, displayed for him, in your pussy the vibrator that was abusing your clit and hole, a view your boyfriend loved, your legs were trembling, and you were feeling the different vibrations he was selecting, your face was tear stained while you heard him chuckle "aah what a view, my angel" he upgraded the vibrations making you whimper "you like it?" he palmed his bulge and took a sip of his whiskey "c'mon give me another one" you denied with your head and cried "you're a big girl show me you can do it" he slapped your ass, the vibrations were changing again making you close to another orgasm "that's it, cum pretty for me baby".

Goo

when you gave him the remote he already knew what it was about, you had him on his knees promising you he's gonna wife you up, you were made for him.

he's obsessed on teasing you, even in public, meetings, gatherings, in private, when you're having sex, whatever and whenever, he loves to be in charge with the toys.

Today was supposed to be a relaxing day, watching a movie he wanted to show you a while ago, but here you are sitting on his lap, your back resting on his strong chest and his legs parting yours, the vibrator inside of you and the remote on his hand "tell me pretty, what is happening in the movie now?" he kissed your ear "they are making a club" you whimpered making him sadistically smile "and what are the rules of the fight club?" he increased the vibrations "Goo!" you moaned causing him to stop "c'mon!" you whined, his hands caressed your legs "it's easy baby" he kissed your cheek, and you sighed "first rule, you do not talk about fight club and second rule, you do not talk-" he increased to the max "Goo! you do not talk about the fight club!" you moaned "good girl, yeah that's it my beautiful princess, now focus more on the film, okay?".

#lookism #jake kim #kim gimyung #park gun #park jonggun #kim goo #kim joongoo #kim joon goo #park jong gun #lookism x reader

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liulith · 4 months ago

Text

We as a fandom need to open our hearts to the insane comedic potential of Sir Pentious being included as a background character in stories taking place in the "old days" before Vox and Alastor's falling out. AND the comedic potential of one-sided Sir Pentious -> Vox.

Why?

Canon!Sir Pentious is attached to his era's aesthetics but he also wants to be "hip and cool" (see pilot episode; Sir Pentious as the how do you do fellow kids meme) and join the "Almighty Vees". When did he start wanting that? He's not a media demon trying to keep up with his audience and be a likeable public figure. He's a mechanic trying to conquer Hell by force thanks to his machines and obviously relishes in acting like a villain (fear me! I'm so evil! I'm the architect of destruction! etc. etc).

This is very different from the Vees' approach - maintaining a perfect public image, insidious manipulation tactics... Vox threatens Alastor in the show, but the Vees clearly haven't built their power through turf wars, which is and has always been Pentious' one and only strategy. All the machines we've seen him make are war weapons (+ the Egg Boyz who do his bidding, and help him operate those very weapons). Voxtek probably sells weaponry too but that is more Camilla's domain, so it would be more logical for Pentious to try and join her.

Pentious' and the Vees agenda and interests aren't aligned, so why is Pentious so desperate to join the Vees?

there are many reasons why Pentious could want to be part of the Vees besides the one I'm gonna talk about but you know what MY agenda is:

Vox is Pentious' idol. Pentious is an inventor, an innovator. He would have loved waking up in Hell with a mechanical body he can upgrade however he wants and finds the whole concept fascinating.

He's not against new technology, as his creations clearly go beyond what people could have had invented in his time despite their "steampunk" aesthetic (see: the effing death ray). So I think his current "limitations" are more a matter of him having to stick with what he knows best because it's hard to keep up with the constant stream of new tech. This is why he's more than impressed with Vox's extraordinary ability to adapt to change and master new technologies again and again. He's a fellow innovator! That's one reason for Pentious to be obsessed with the guy.

And if you think obsessed isn't the right word, think about this: Sir Pentious repeatedly challenges Alastor to fights even though he's clearly outmatched and it's an incredible risk to take considering what Alastor does. Pentious is OLDER than Alastor, he was there when he broadcast the most powerful Overlords' scream all over Hell. Plus, losing always leaves him in a very vulnerable position (without his best weapons). Is it madness? Hubris? An obsession for Alastor? No!

Sir Pentious to Alastor: Silence! Now Cower! For when I've slain you, the Almighty Vees will finally acknowledge me!

Sir Pentious thinks defeating Alastor is the only way the Vees will finally acknowledge him. No matter how dangerous it is, he has to try, for the Vees (Vox). Just like he took the risk of angering the Princess of Hell to get in Vox's good graces. This says a lot, for someone as paranoid as him, who doesn't trust anyone who is "too nice" to him.

If Hazbin had more episodes there should have been one about Pentious struggling with the fact he disappointed his idol and told to KHS 👀

(btw this is old news but we know that one of the Hazbin episodes that Viv originally pitched was about a science contest organized by Voxtek in which Pentious and Baxter competed against each other! Pentious could have done that after ep2!)

Anyway, back to the comedic potential of it all & Vox's arrival in Hell. Can you imagine his reaction as a newly fallen Sinner, when he's hanging out with Alastor (aka following him like a lost puppy?) and he meets Sir Pentious for the first time? Like sure, Hell is full of insane people but Alastor obviously has a Reputation and no one ever challenges him. And suddenly... Hm... Alastor?? There's an airship with a giant cannon pointed right as us?? Firing a DEATH RAY?!

It's also so funny to imagine Sir Pentious being obsessed with Alastor and considering him his archnemesis back in the day, only to slowly become obsessed with Vox instead and only caring about defeating Alastor because he thinks Vox will like it. It starts with Sir Pentious trying to "gather intel" on Alastor's new "ally", spying on them or sending his Egg Boyz to do so (and we already know great he is at spying so you can guess how that goes lol), and the rest is history.

Alastor loves attention so he probably let Pentious spy on him behind bushes from time to time if only because it's very entertaining to watch him try to be discrete and make his shadow tap on his shoulder. How hilarious would it be if Alastor noticed Sir Pentious' growing crush on Vox but not Vox's crush on him? Also, Vox misunderstanding Pentious and Alastor's relationship and thinking Pentious is a weird obsessive ex... The world is a stage and the stage is a world of entertainment!

#hazbin hotel thoughts #hazbin hotel vox #sir pentious #hazbin hotel alastor #staticsnake #radiostatic #hazbin hotel

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justporo · 10 months ago

Text

Bedroom Hymns

A still empty new home somwhere in the Upper City of Baldur's Gate. Nothing but a big mattress on the floor of your bedroom where Astarion and you have spent some days already, mostly naked, just indulging in whatever you want - and each other of course, whenever the flames started blazing. This time a spark is ignited when Astarion sees how his old shirt looks on you, how well it suits you. (NSFW)

PART 2 | MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: This is... just dirty smut. I have been thinking about writing this for literal months. But I'm happy I did because when Tav describes how she's become more confident? That's me just describing how I feel about writing smut. And yes, there will be a second part - with even more. Happy 2k followers, my dear horny gremlins!

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You) Warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), premature orgasm, light dom/sub dynamic (if you squint but really they're both just taking the piss out of each other) Wordcount: 4,5k ~~~

A lot of things in your life had gone wrong - more than you could possibly ever count. Sometimes you had even wondered how you had even survived this far. In the last couple of months you had asked yourself that question quite a lot actually.

But then some things had gone very right. Often without you even knowing what was in store for you beforehand.

As you laid on your side on a single thick plush mattress in a massive room with deep red silk tapestries on the wall and polished wooden floors, high ceilings adorned with a shimmering and glittering chandelier in your newly acquired home in Baldur’s Gate, you realised that this was one of those things that had gone terribly right.

But all this wasn't even the best. The best thing that had - quite frankly - ever happened to you was lying right next to you: almost completely naked, only partly covered by some blankets and sheets, just as you were, and at the moment lecturing you on the importance of a coherent design concerning furniture, decor and colours. Long, elegant fingers waved around, gesticulating while full, soft lips kept moving, often smiling - occasionally allowing sharp fangs to be seen beneath - and red eyes began to glow whenever their gaze fell on you.

A small lantern was bathing the large and tall room in some cosy orange light - barely reaching the far corners of the room. It was almost reminiscent of all the nights you had spent in camp with nothing but the moon, stars and a crackling campfire for light. The mattress though was easily an impressive upgrade from your tattered bedrolls despite it being the only piece of furnishing the two of you currently owned.

You had stopped paying attention a fair while ago while Astarion kept waving his arms around, looking from you - softly nodding in agreement without hearing the words - to the ceiling and around the empty room. His curls were delightfully messed up and unorderly, making him look even more handsome for how at ease he was. And the easy smile that didn't seem to leave his lips these days, took quite a lot of those torturous years right off his face.

Your heart fluttered every time he looked over at you, with his bright red eyes sparkling at you and his smile involuntarily growing even broader.

And you saw the rest too: how he elegantly gesticulated with those skilled hands, how the muscles in his arms and chest flexed as he couldn't be bothered to keep still for just a second, the room never silent as long as he was there. You had fallen into easy, natural companionship with each other - as if you’d known each other for centuries already.

What choices you had made to end up right here, right now, you didn’t know. But you surely wouldn’t have changed a thing if this was to be the glorious result.

“Wouldn't you agree, my heart?” Astarion asked you, halting his ongoing infodump. He was looking at you. And by the way one of his eyebrows was raised critically he must have noticed your lapse in attention.

But in your defence, the way his lower abdomen disappeared in the sheets he had carelessly wrapped around his hips - at a very low point - would have distracted just about anyone. The way the lines of his muscles defined his lower body. Especially those two converging lines, starting at his slender hips, then going lower, leading to his…

Astarion cleared his throat. You'd been distracted yet again.

“Darling, you have all the time in the world for staring, you don't need to get it done all at once.”

“I like being a step or two ahead though, love.”

The vampire scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest in annoyance. You saw how it made his muscles contract just a tad and you bit your lip unconsciously.

“I know, darling, you're so diligent. But my eyes are up here, my sweet,” he answered. You heard the vicious teasing in his tone.

You ripped your gaze from his delectable torso and let it wander to his equally delectable face. He was grinning wolfishly at you, one eyebrow twitching up playfully. And now you couldn't help but blush a little. He often had that effect on you.

Astarion simply liked being looked at, and you - well - liked looking at him. But in his defence, he was also very good at reversing the roles, making you flustered whenever he couldn’t tear his eyes from you in return as if undressing you and having you right then and there in his mind even when you were in public. With the way he stared at you now, eyes slowly becoming half-lidded, you also had a fair idea where his mind was going right now.

Your vampire slowly turned to lay on his side, propping up his head on his arm, mirroring your pose exactly. A few of his curls were falling into his face when he slowly leaned forward, his smile already telling you what he was about. Some rustling you heard made you aware that the sheets around his hips were moving when he did. Your eyes flicked downward.

A small involuntary gasp left your lips when you noticed that the fabric had slipped even lower, the man now even more precariously covered than before. Your thoughts immediately took a tumble and stopped being coherent.

Astarion clicked his tongue, his free hand grabbed your chin firmly and made you look at him once more: “Love, we really need to talk about the fact how you lose the ability to focus so quickly.” The wolfish grin was back and he even leaned in a little bit closer still, causing the sheets to slide down just a bit more. A desperate noise caught deep in your throat.

You coughed.

“In my defence, Astarion, you’re almost completely naked”, you whispered as his smirking lips hovered over yours.

“So are you, darling, but you don’t see me losing focus, do you?” Astarion replied, his voice dropping low until it was merely more than a rumble. His crimson eyes took their time as they wandered over every single one of your elegant curves. His tongue darted out to wet his lips unconsciously while with his eyes he devoured your naked body outlining against the dark of the room with the help of warm lantern light sharply illuminating the details of your form.

You swallowed and felt some pressure forming between your legs. The kind you had felt relentlessly almost all the time since you had fallen onto this single piece of furnishing you had bought so far for your new home.

By now it must have been a couple of days of the two of you just hanging out barely clothed in your new almost empty bedroom - just the huge mattress on the floor. And once you had fallen onto it, you hadn’t seen any sense in getting up again. Everything you needed was right there with you.

You had talked even more in the last couple of days than you had ever before. You had taken each other whenever lust had overcome you. And you had just allowed the exhaustion of months and months of fights, adventures and not knowing if you would live to see another sunrise to slowly leave both your bodies. Just sinking into the soft bedding, knowing you could let yourself fall fully with each other around, relaxing and recovering.

Well, you almost didn’t leave the makeshift bed. Only when some carnal urges, that Astarion very unfortunately couldn’t fulfil all by himself, were reminding you that you were still just a mortal did you get up and snuck out of the room. Always coming back to Astarion dramatically claiming he'd barely survived without your attention when you fell back into his arms on return.

Unfortunately you felt some of those urges creeping up on you this very moment, as Astarion was leaning in, about to initiate what surely would become another mind bending tumble in the sheets. But this would have to wait - at least for a few moments now.

And also he could get his ego knocked down a bit for being all too cocky just a few moments ago.

When the vampire was about to close his eyes to kiss you, you rolled back. And with that movement grabbed the blanket that was covering you and threw it at Astarion’s expectant face. As you heard him hiss you slid off the mattress with a cackle and grabbed the first piece of clothing you saw before you quickly, with bare feet, ran to slip out of the bedroom. The vampire ripped the blanket off his face, got to his knees and tried to grab you before you could leave his den but you were just as quick as him.

You heard Astarion curse under his breath but you were already closing the door behind you. The last thing the vampire saw of you, was how you had pulled on his old shirt and how it didn’t fully cover your butt as you slipped out the door, leaving barely anything to his vivid imagination.

Astarion cursed you under his breath and remained kneeling there, a martyr forced to give up his everything (temporarily). At least the view could have been worse. Thinking about how you had looked in his shirt immediately sent a jolt between his legs, making his length throb with need for you as he sat there and mourned the temporary loss of his lover. Only his imaginative mind kept him company until you came back.

When you returned shortly after you had brought a bottle of wine and two chalices (only bought yesterday on a whim) to make up for your rash departure. You slowly opened the door with your bare foot since both your hands were full and found Astarion exactly as you left him.

He was kneeling on the mattress still, the sheets draped over his thighs almost artfully, only barely covering him now. His hands were placed palm up on his wide spread legs, almost as if he was in prayer. And fitting with this was his bowed head, eyes closed, his ruffled curls covering part of his beautiful face.

Ethereal was the only word you could think of at that moment. Astarion looked like the statue of a forgotten god with how he knelt there: every single detail crafted to perfection. The light of the lantern illuminated every line of his naked body, giving the illusion of being carved out of immaculate marble capturing every single one of his sharp lines that worked so well in contrast to your softer ones.

And for some reason it seemed this unreal looking being had chosen to come down from his place among all other divine powers to bow down at your feet. And more even: he had devoted himself to you, body and soul, for the rest of his immortal days to lavishly praise you with all he had to offer.

You gasped as you took him in. Almost not being able to believe how you had gotten so lucky.

The vampire’s head snapped up when he heard the soft, low sound. The illusion of a statue, forever held captive in stone in perfect but lifeless detail, was broken. But the actual thing was so much better anyways. Astarion’s crimson eyes glinted at you in the low light, his body flexed, stone becoming liquid, while you slowly closed the door behind you again.

The vampire eyed you, drinking in the view of you wearing his shirt now being allowed more than just a glimpse: the sleeves sliding down your arms and bunching up around the elbows, the way the fabric spanned over your hips and thighs.

But mostly the vampire was mesmerised by how your breasts outlined against this old shirt of his: part of them obscured by the ruffles, but especially their peaks - hardened by the cold air - were clearly visible to him and made Astarion lose his focus for once. Seeing you this way immediately made lust rise up within him way more than any fantasy could, causing his length between his legs to twitch and slowly harden.

Feeling the tension in the room shift remarkably, you slowly stepped closer to your makeshift bed again. You saw desire light up the vampire’s eyes as he kept gazing upon you. His lips had parted and his expression spoke of nothing but hunger for you as he couldn’t get enough of the view of you wearing his clothes.

Maybe he wasn’t so much a heavenly being that had descended to you but something out of the most fiercely burning part of the hells, ready to drag you down with him and never let you leave again. You swallowed and felt how the vampire’s heated gaze alone made you feel a little hazy.

Had you known it was this easy to turn the table on Astarion in his own little game, you would have done this much earlier. And oh, what irony that while you could barely form a coherent thought once the vampire was naked before you, for him it was you putting on his old, almost threadbare camp shirt that seemingly made the pale elf forget everything else but how good it looked on you. And what it meant to him: that you were his.

The intensity on his face as he kept staring at you without moving was almost predator like and made you rub your thighs together in a desperate attempt to control the beginning pulses between your legs. But the damage was already done. And as if emboldened by the vampire’s attention you felt your hardening nipples rub against the fabric of Astarion’s shirt, pronouncing them even more and making you overly aware of them.

“Come here, darling,” the pale elf asked of you, lazily stretching out an arm towards you. All you could do in response was helplessly wave the bottle of wine and the chalices around, because some pragmatic part in your brain was still working and telling you that your hands were still full.

Astarion frowned slightly at you, annoyed by the delay in you obeying his demand.

“Put it down and then come here,” he ordered in a brisker tone now, you saw his gaze darkening as he almost growled at you.

And of course you followed his demand. There was nothing more you wanted actually as you looked down upon your nearly naked lover before you - demanding you join him again in your bed.

Hastily, you placed down the bottle and the cups and then moved over to Astarion. He was stretching out his arms to you, motioning to you to come sit on his lap.

You didn’t hesitate, but you didn’t rush either now. You placed one on one of his thighs, causing the fabric of his shirt to ride up your thigh so much that you were sure that he must be able to see your swelling core from his position. Immediately one of his hands slid up your pointed foot and over your shin, around to your calf, squeezing the muscle lightly, before it went on to the sensitive underside of your bare thigh.

And of course his eyes were immediately drawn to you bared before him, almost hypnotised and making a grunt catch in his throat at the sight of what you had to offer him. His crimson gaze found yours, his brows drawn together. You stayed like this in a moment of perfect stillness as you kept looking at each other, knowing that you’d be doomed to be each other’s continuous downfall. Then Astarion bit his lips, one canine catching on his bottom lip, his gaze falling back to what lay beneath your legs.

This alone was getting you so worked up that you let your head roll back and allowed a small but desperate moan to leave your lips. Astarion laughed softly at that, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. You moaned again and enjoyed the content humming you earned in response to your openly shown pleasure.

Months ago you would have been way too hesitant to act like this - not directly ashamed but surely too shy to really express yourself, to fully indulge. But Astarion had surely made your confidence rise to unknown heights with the way he always praised you, how he hungered for you and always made it known how much he desired you. And with teaching and showing you what pleasures he could let you have if only you trusted him. And you had done that from the beginning, your belief in him stronger than better judgement.

So there you were, spreading yourself to your lover, while you could observe his cock beginning to twitch below the thin sheets. This with how the corners of his mouth curled up into an almost feral grin was more than enough proof that you’d been doing it right, that he’d taught you well.

It made you feel powerful, knowing how you could make him lust for you. And it heightened your own pleasure knowing how easily you could turn him on.

“Darling,” Astarion mumbled, the tip of his tongue running over his bottom lip as you saw him basically salivating at the sight of you becoming a drenched mess for him, “would you mind coming just a little bit closer?” His gaze flicked from your core to you and then back down. He was eager and insatiable.

“Say please?”

His gaze snapped to yours, eyes narrowed while you grinned, both of you remembering a specific moment months ago when you had teased him just like that. And just like back then he would make you regret it later.

He rolled his head around, loosened his shoulders with an annoyed, dramatic sight.

“Please”, he basically purred when his head came back around.

Oh sure, if he was nice like that, you would come closer. You gave him a pleased smile and withdrew your leg from his, making Astarion’s unwilling hand drop to his thigh while he criticised the loss with a disgruntled groan. But you moved quickly to make up for it.

You stepped on the mattress, already incredibly close to him and enjoyed how attentively he stared up at you, patiently awaiting you now. It was almost fooling you how obediently he had been so far, how he waited for you. But seeing the mischievous sparkle in his ruby eyes and his signature smirk play on his lips told you that he was only playing coy until he had you where he wanted you.

Still you drew out the moment, enjoying your moment of having the upper hand. You let one hand enter his already dishevelled hair and began caressing his scalp with slow circles of your fingertips.

“You’re such a good, patient boy today, Astarion,” you teased him sweetly as you watched his eyes roll back from your soft, sensual caress. One eyebrow twitched at your praise. You knew he liked being praised. But then his gaze snapped back and his hands shot around your legs and pulled you in close against him by grabbing your butt.

You yelped and almost lost balance. Your hands searched for hold on his naked shoulders and the vampire had you firmly in his grasp. His splayed fingers squeezing your buttcheeks, half-covered by the shirt. He pressed his face between your legs. His long, straight nose almost already reached the swelling, sensitive bud there.

A helpless whimper escaped you and Astarion lifted his face again.

“Not so feisty now, are we? Don’t make me become impatient with you, sweetheart,” he told you in a mocking tone, pursing his lips, enjoying the view of you above him and emphasising his point with a firm slap on your butt. You merely gasped in response. Your mind was still trying to catch up.

“Now, move!”, he commanded with another low growl and wasted no time by moving one of your thighs to lift up your leg and placing it on his shoulder. You were balancing on one leg now. But your vampire was holding you securely, both hands on your ass again and pulling you as close as possible.

The fabric had already bunched up over your spread thigh now but you saw the unspoken command in Astarion’s narrowed eyes as he positioned you on himself and you lifted the shirt higher with one hand while letting the other enter his hair again.

And then Astarion wasted no more precious time and pressed his face between your legs again - now with no more fabric getting in his way. The tip of his tongue immediately and effortlessly found your pulsating clit and began working on it while his hands squeezed your butt deliciously.

Without hesitation he pressed his open mouth to your heated core, sucking on it and his tongue circling over and around the sensitive peak there, sending a million little lightning jolts through your body that quickly became stronger, conjuring a thunderstorm.

You moaned loudly now, not being able to control any of it anymore. Your hand formed a fist in his hair, nails scratching his scalp, which he answered with a pleased growl and pressing his tongue even harder against your clit.

He drove you up that mountain so quickly and violently you began seeing stars already while he kept pleasuring you with his eager mouth. The way he sucked on you, let his tongue slide between your folds and inside of you, having you almost fully climb onto his face, and the way you felt even his fangs graze you ever so lightly at your most sensitive part made you quickly lose all control.

Somewhere in the back of your mind clouded with boundless lust you were thankful that he held you so firmly it hurt, because your legs were both shaking uncontrollably the longer and fiercer he kept going. With glazed over eyes you allowed yourself to look down and enjoy the view of your lover devouring you as if he had been only put on this plane of existence to please you in this way. It amplified the pressure you felt building up in your lower body tenfold.

You neared the edge at breakneck speed. And your body was desperate for release, knowing the orgasm would be vicious. But there was something else you wanted. Instinctively you knew that he himself must be aching. You didn’t need to see his massive erection straining the sheets around his hips and the telltale wet spot at its peak to know that it was there - and to know that you wanted to feel him inside of you.

“Astarion,” you groaned breathlessly and used the rest of your control to pull on his hair. But you achieved nothing, merely making him almost purr from the exquisite pain you inflicted by pulling on his hair. He slapped your ass again. So hard you knew it would leave his handprint on your delicate skin this time. That and the sting from it made you bite your lip to barely stifle another desperate moan.

And then the last of your ability to form a simple coherent thought crumbled, the sheer, primal lust inside you taking over when Astarion changed the pace to some slow, hard movements with the tip of his tongue directly over your swollen clit. You gave in to it.

It was inevitable anyway. Only a few more flicks of the vampire’s skilled tongue and you were falling, your cunt throbbing violently despite nothing to clench around.

Your hand was tugging hard on Astarion’s hair again, making him growl. Your face was contorted in overpowering pleasure as the stars you had seen before blew up to a whole firmament and made you lose your vision for a moment from how bright everything had become. Breathless, almost soundless noises left your wide open mouth as you scattered into a million pieces. And only Astarion’s firm arms around you made sure they would all stick together again once you would come down from your own galaxy again.

The vampire kept going for a few more swipes, pushing you just a tad further before it became fully unbearable and then withdrew to enjoy the fruits of his labour, your wetness coating his lips and chin. He absent-mindedly lapped it up as well as possible while he kept watching you writhe from the ecstasy he had provided you with.

When you had come back down enough from the high again to feel your own body, you slowly let your head fall forward again. Your legs felt weak and wobbly just as the rest of your body. You looked at your eager lover, who was licking up some of you from his lips still. Astarion looked mightily pleased with himself.

“That’s what you get for making me impatient, love,” he simply said and grinned haughtily, cocking his head as if he hadn’t just given you one of the most violent orgasms you had ever experienced - and hadn’t even allowed you to lay down for it.

He softly eased your leg off his shoulder but held you securely still to make sure you didn’t topple over. You softly tugged on his curls now and kept looking at him while still trying to catch your breath. The vampire placed soft kisses down the front of your shivering thighs after you had let the shirt drop again, his hands were carefully massaging your behind and the back of your thighs.

“Shame though,” you let out between gasps of air, “I would have loved to feel you inside of me.” You said it while you eyed his erect dick between his spread legs. The sight alone enough to get some pressure back up in your lower abdomen - despite your core still lazily throbbing from your last orgasm.

That made Astarion’s head snap back up again, his eyes sparkling at you as if asking how you still dared to talk back to him after what he had just made you experience. Then he closed his eyes and softly shook his head while his smirk turned wicked.

“Oh sweet darling,” he began and opened his eyes slowly to look at you from under his brows. His eyes were dark and the tip of his tongue darted out to lick over his lips focus wholly on you. The smirk grew even broader until you saw his fangs glint in the low lantern light.

His gaze was piercing, and his hands were once more squeezing your butt until it hurt pleasantly, plugging a whimper from you. You asked yourself if it had been clever to provoke a vampire who must be burning up with pleasure by now and aching for his own release judging by how you saw his erection twitch forcefully between his legs even with the fabric of the sheet covering it.

“What made you think I was even close to being done with you, my heart?”

PART 2

Taglist (DM if you want to be added please): @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna @ajokeformur-ray @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @rikuyrk06

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #fanfiction #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x you #astarion x reader #bg3

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