#I’m sorry god I know It’s the worst man to be fixated on but | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xylatox · 1 month ago

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Romanticism Handled With Discipline || psh

Finally getting to my readings for the day ans I've absolutely taken too long to get to this😞 Also I was stupid and it took me so long to realize I reblogged this on the wrong account.

it’s a paradox that drives you to detrimental distraction. How can you be so obsessed with someone you loathe? His perplexing combination of qualities was like some kind of mystery you felt compelled to unravel, at the very least to put your own mind at ease. — reader is so real for this, like i would absolutely be unable to focus in class if sunghoon was my lecturer and he's annoyingly handsome which would absolutely piss me off fr.

The entire class has turned to look at you now too, dozens of pairs of eyes fixated on your every move. The silence is absolutely deafening. — I would die. This happened to me once, in a different context and it's the worst feeling ever. Why do uni kids stare so intently 😭

“Whoa, what’s up with you?” your friend Jungwon asks when you walk by him in the hall, looking up from his phone and tugging out his earbuds to cock his head in your direction. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something.” — Jungwon cameo :((( he's such a cutie

“Surely you can wait just a little longer— now I’m dying to know why you don’t want me to read this.” Professor Park's crooked smirk infuriates you. — this is so funny and embarrassing I can't lie. It does remind me of when I was like 14/15 in hs and my teacher took a book my friend and I were reading (it was literally like a YouTuber book (Dan and Phil) it was 2016 okay) and this man literally told us we were lame😭 he was hoping we were reading smth good (we were also stared by my classmates) - all girl hs are absolutely terrible

“That’s not how you should speak to me, Miss Y/N. Now you certainly aren’t getting it back.” Professor Park retorted, his evil little smirk growing even wider. — he's so annoying because he knows what he's doing

“Jake, Jay, please.” Professor Park grits out through gritted teeth, anxiously running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, what did you say, Miss L/N?” — this made me giggle, the thought of Jay being a professor drives me insane.

“Do you really want this?” He breathes, voice low, his breathing hard—the outline of his cock presses hard against your stomach through his slacks, making it considerably hard to focus on the words that came out of his mouth. — screaming, oh my god

THE BUNNY NICKNAME???? BREE???? Also she's so fucking bratty I love it actually

Genuinely this drove me insane, teacher/student relations are another guilty pleasure of mine esp in this contest. The little freak in me lives another day.

Bree this was amazing, I'm so glad I finally got to read it and give a proper review !!

ROMANTICISM HANDLED WITH DISCIPLINE ── 박성훈

your professor catches you reading a not-so-safe-for-school book in the middle of his class. in an effort to make things better, you fear that you may have just made them worse.

⧼ 📜 ⧽ 一 pairing༚ ⸝⸝⸝ professor!park sunghoon ✗ student!fem!reader includes ༚ ༚ ༚ jungwon, jay and jake of enhypen, giselle and karina of aespa

genre ༚ ༚ ༚ smut, fluff, porn with plot

warnings༚ ⸝⸝⸝ teacher/student, age gaps, power play, light dom/sub dynamics, dom!sunghoon, masturbation (f. rec), erotic literature, explicit language and sexual content, spanking, dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, name calling (slut), wet dreams, impact play, oral (m. rec), cumming in pants, facefucking, deepthroat, big dick sunghoon, doggy style, sex on furniture, unprotected sex, creampies, talk of contraception (reader is on birth control), alcohol mentions, drinking and partying, hair pulling, size kink word count༚ 12 . 2 k | ⧼ 🗝️ ⧽ 一 to library༚

[notes.] a rewrite of a rewrite of one of the first ever fics i've ever written! this fic was originally written for soobin of txt, but i took that one down when i decided to discontinue writing for that group. but thanks to my lovely mutuals, they asked (demanded) that i rewrite it for hoon <3 this is a romanticization of student/teacher relationships where both parties are consenting adults, but it is important to note that these relationships can be problematic in real life due to one parties authority over another's and unstable power dynamics. banner done by my beloved mootie @heechwe! reblogs and feedback are very appreciated <3 i hope you enjoy!

YOUR FRENCH LITERATURE professor embodies everything you find detestable in a teacher. His classes are a monotonous drone of information, devoid of anything exciting or engaging, though that might not be entirely his fault with how painfully, mind numbingly boring the subject he teaches is. He rarely ever deviates from his tight-lipped script, and he absolutely refuses to entertain any questions or foster any interesting discussion. He never accepted late assignments or gave any extensions, his tests are ridiculously hard, and he’ll dock points off your assignments for the tiniest, stupidest reasons. Sure, it’s a difficult course, and it’s important to your major, but you swear he seems to take some kind of pleasure in making his students miserable. Each class feels like an eternity, and often you find yourself counting down the minutes until you can escape the insufferable, suffocating atmosphere of his classroom.

Yet, for some strange, inexplicable reason, you find yourself absolutely obsessed with him.

Maybe it was because you spent your time in his class focusing more on him than any of the words that came out of his mouth. His irritatingly handsome, angular face and his pouty, kissable lips, the moles on his cheeks framing his tall nose. The way his thick brow furrows and his lip curls when one of your classmates asks a question that he deems too stupid to grace with an answer. His big veiny hands and how they look shuffling papers and twirling pens, filling your head with thoughts of how they would look caressing your body. His tall, fit frame and how he towers over you whenever you come up to him, the way he has to lower his head to look you in the eye, a soldering heat bubbling in your belly from the way he makes you feel so small. You can’t stand to be his student, but you dream at night about being something else to him entirely— it’s a paradox that drives you to detrimental distraction. How can you be so obsessed with someone you loathe? His perplexing combination of qualities was like some kind of mystery you felt compelled to unravel, at the very least to put your own mind at ease.

That was when you found the novel. It was hidden in the romance section of your favorite used bookstore, squished between two old technicolor cover harlequin novels, it’s dark and simple spine juxtaposing against all the bright colors and ornate fonts. It intrigued you enough to pull it from the shelf and look it over, your cheeks heating up as you take in its cover. A headless, well-dressed man sat in a chair with his legs spread invitingly, the smart suit he was wearing disheveled and his undone belt held tightly in his hand, the leather strap resting against his inner thigh. The title Lessons in Attraction was printed where his head would be, vague but provocative enough to make your stomach flip. The man immediately reminded you of Professor Park, from the way he was dressed to the prominent veins in his hands, and when you flip the book over to read the synopsis you understand the connection. It outlines the story of a steamy romance between a strict economics professor and his teaching assistant, an innocent, young virgin who wants nothing more than to please. It was as if the author had plucked your deepest fantasies straight from your head and printed them out on paper, then planted the book in the perfect spot for you specifically to discover. You knew just from skimming through the pages that reading it would only do you more harm than good, but you just couldn’t put it down, drawn to the story like an addict needing a fix. You hid it in your stack of textbooks, and you refused to look the cashier in the eye as they checked you out.

At first, you had intended to keep it hidden in your bedroom, only to be read late at night when your roommates were either out or asleep. But as your obsession with your professor continued to deepen, so did your obsession with the novel; soon you found yourself taking it with you everywhere you went, reading snippets whenever you had the chance and quickly shoving back into your bag anytime someone would walk by or glance over at you. Your dreams devolved into graphic, vivid replays of your favorite dirty scenes, with Professor Park in the place of the professor from the story. You wake up hot and bothered every morning, and his class becomes even more difficult with your head now full of illicit, naughty fantasies. Everything he does makes your belly swirl with need, even something as simple as running a hand through his hair or adjusting his glasses— you can’t even bare to look at him, and instead try your hardest to focus on whatever boring tangent he was rambling on about… until you caught yourself fantasizing about how his deep voice would sound whispering dirty words in your ear.

You couldn’t take it anymore. Professor Park's lectures were beginning to feel more like sick torture— you needed something to keep you distracted before you went insane.

So, against your better judgement, you started to bring the novel to read in class. You sat far enough in the back that you were certain he wouldn’t notice, and your poor classmates were too bored out of their minds to look your way. It was easy to keep it hidden away tucked in your lap, so you could pretend to be writing in your notebook while you read. Something about it excited you, reading about fucking your professor with your real professor standing there in front of you, none the wiser. Being able to admire him as you indulged in your secret desires. If he caught you, you would be humiliated, but you would be lying if you said that the thought didn’t excite you…

"Miss L/N, what are you doing?”

You nearly shoot straight out of your chair, your professor’s sudden call of your name shocking you out of your reverie. You had gotten so absorbed into your novel that you had forgotten to check to see if he was looking your way. “H-huh?”

“You keep looking at your lap.” Professor Park remarks, peering up at you from his spot at the podium with an unamused frown. His thick-rimmed glasses made his pretty brown eyes appear even larger than they already were, blinking up at you like he was studying you through a magnifying glass. “You’re not on your phone, are you? You know I have a no-tolerance policy when it comes to electronics.”

“Oh! No, sir, I’m just…” your startled gaze bounces back to the book in your lap, and you swallow nervously. “Reading.”

“Reading?” Professor Park echoes, raising his brow. “What are you reading? I assume it’s not the textbook, from the look on your face.”

You blanche, trying your hardest to appear nonchalant as you snap the book shut and shove it down into the recesses of your school bag. “It’s nothing!” You reply far too quickly, sounding guiltier than sin.

Professor Park's lips pull into a thin line, his magnified eyes raking over your sweating face before trailing down to your bag, clasped protectively over your lap.

“Give it to me.” he orders curtly, stretching out his hand.

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. “What?! W-why?!”

“Reading anything that isn’t the course material is against my class rules— I have it printed clearly on the syllabus, though with how you can never seem to pay attention I wouldn’t be surprised if you missed it when I went over it at the beginning of the semester. I would recommend looking over it again to see if there’s anything else you’ve forgotten. Now, get up and hand me that book.”

The entire class has turned to look at you now too, dozens of pairs of eyes fixated on your every move. The silence is absolutely deafening. Your heart races and your hands tremble as you squirm in your seat, trying desperately to come up with some sort of escape as if you were in a horror movie; you might as well be, because out of all the ghouls and monsters you can think of, this has to be your worst nightmare.

You consider refusing. Technically, Professor Park couldn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to— hell, you could walk right out of the classroom right then and there if you really wanted to, with both your book and your dignity intact. After all, you were a grown adult paying to further your education out of your own pocket. Trying to confiscate your belongings as if you were a child was borderline insulting.

But you can’t risk your grade over something like this, as embarrassing as it was, and you wouldn’t put it past him to penalize you in some way for defying your orders. You were already struggling as it was, partly because of how difficult the coursework was and mostly because of how you could never concentrate whenever Professor Park was around. To make matters even worse, passing was a requirement for your degree. Getting even more on his bad side than you already were simply not an option.

It takes every ounce of energy you have to force yourself to stand up out of your seat and trudge down to Professor Park's podium, clutching your novel against your chest like you were clutching pearls. He has to pry it out of your hand with a considerable amount of force, because you can’t seem to loosen your fingers around the cover.

You scamper back to your seat, but not before turning back to see Professor Park eye the cover with a startled expression. It would have been comical if you didn’t feel like you were seconds away from throwing up all over your desk.

He places it gingerly face-down on his desk like he was handling a dead fish, and you’re both grateful and horrified that he noticeably avoids making eye contact with you when he steps back up on his podium. “You can come by my office later to get it back, Miss L/N. I have a free period at six.”

“Yes, sir.” You answer glumly, staring at your shoes.

Luckily for you, he dismisses the class only a few minutes later, muttering about something to do with grading papers. You’ve never ran out of that lecture hall so fast in your life.

You stop just long enough to realize that you were still running, even though you had made it nearly halfway across the building. “I’m so fucked.” You state simply.

“What? What happened? Did you do something to piss off Professor Park again?”

“Yes. No. Kind of?” you cringe inwardly. There’s absolutely no way you’re telling Jungwon about any of what happened; he’d laugh at you to the point you fear you might actually start crying. “I don’t want to talk about it. I gotta go.”

You shuffle away before he can respond, and while you feel bad ignoring him as he calls out to you in confusion, you’re focused solely on finding somewhere quiet and empty to hide out until your next class. And maybe grabbing an iced coffee or something. Just to drown out the tears as you wallow in your own misery.

Against all odds, you manage to make it through the rest of your classes. The wait was almost worse than getting caught, barely able to sit still in your seat as you panic inwardly for hours on end. If it was Professor Park's intention to psychologically torture you, he wildly succeeded.

And you’re absolutely sure it was, because the first thing you see once you step into his office is your professor lounging back in his chair reading your book.

“Professor!” you yelp.

He glances up from your book, a mischievous glint shining in his eyes as he sends you a tight-lipped smile. “Oh, Miss Y/N! You’re just in time. I was just flipping through your book here, it seems awfully… interesting.”

You gulp, your trembling hands clutching the strap of your bag in a vain attempt to ground yourself. “Um, sir!” you squeak, rushing to his side to glance over his shoulder at what page he was on, praying to whatever god that will listen that he hasn’t read anything raunchy. “I think it would be best if you, um, didn’t read that…”

“Oh?” He flips the page and quirks his brow, not even sparing you a second glance as he adjusts his glasses, “What do you mean?”

You rack your brain desperately for a good enough excuse, but you can’t think of anything other than just how mortified you were, watching helplessly as your professor’s keen eyes scan over the pages. “Can I have it back now?” you say instead, your voice small and shaking.

“Surely you can wait just a little longer— now I’m dying to know why you don’t want me to read this.” Professor Park's crooked smirk infuriates you.

Was there any possible way that you could talk your way out of this without telling him upfront that what he was holding in his hands was an erotica, one about a teacher and a student no less? You shuffle nervously, stumbling over your words as you try to stutter out something, anything, “You, um… you wouldn’t like it.”

He turns his head to look up at you again, the look in his eye sharply changing when he takes in your frightened state, into something you don’t recognize and aren’t sure you like. “How can you be sure I wouldn’t enjoy it? I’m a fan of many different genres of literature, though I’ve never read anything quite like this before. Is it some sort of romance novel? If it is, you don’t have to be ashamed, Miss Y/N. I’m sure many young women such as yourself read these sorts of novels, though I strongly discourage reading them while I’m in the middle of a lecture. It’s simply disrespectful. Now, where was I?”

He trails his finger down the page as if he was looking for his place, and you bristle. “Sir, seriously, don’t—!”

“I followed my professor to his office, watching with bated breath as he rounded his big wooden desk.” Professor Park begins to read aloud. You barely stop yourself from screaming, instead letting out a sort of pained choking sound. “He stopped to stand behind me, looking down my shoulder as if he were looking over my essay just as I was. I had made three errors in my writing, each one circled in bright red ink. He seemed more upset about it than usual.”

“Professor, please.”

“’Put that essay on my desk.’ he said, so I did.” Professor Park continues, ignoring you. He had gave the professor character a stupid, high pitched voice when he spoke, which would have been funny if you weren’t so humiliated. “’Now bend over with your elbows on my desk, so that you are looking directly at the essay. Keep your face very close.’”

“Stop it! Just let me have it!” You hated to talk to him this way, but if he continued reading any further… it took everything you had to keep yourself from running out of his office and crawling into the nearest ditch to die in.

“That’s not how you should speak to me, Miss Y/N. Now you certainly aren’t getting it back.” Professor Park retorted, his evil little smirk growing even wider. You wanted to hit him, or kick or scream, but you couldn’t do anything except stand there and try your hardest not to cry. “I was puzzled, but I followed his instructions, bending over the top of his desk so that my chest, belly and arms were pressed against the hardwood. My nose was merely a centimeter or two away from the letter, which made it difficult to read. My skirt was starting to… to slide up the backs of my thighs, but I was sure that if I moved to tug it back down, I would just get into even more trouble.”

You grimace when Professor Park's voice broke, his smile slowly starting to slide off his face and twisting into something unreadable. But he did not stop reading. “’Now read the letter to yourself. Read it over and over again.’ My professor said. I read: “In today’s rapidly evolving global landscape, the integration of technology in…” and at the word “integration”, which I had misspelled, he— he… um… Oh.”

You began to feel less like wanting to die and more like you were actually dying. Professor Park stares hard at the pages for a painfully long moment, his ears turning bright cherry red, but to your surprise and absolute mortification, he began to read aloud again. His voice had dropped that cheerful quality, however, sounding winded as if he had been hit upside the head. “At the word “integration”, which I had misspelled, he reeled his arm back and spanked me hard. I stopped reading with a loud gasp, shocked— the sting reverberated through my core, fiery hot, and despite my embarrassment I began to soak through my panties. At my silence, I was spanked again, even harder. ‘I said read it.’ My professor reminded me. ‘Be a good girl and follow instructions.’”

Professor Park shuts the book closed abruptly and looks up at you with a very red face and wide eyes. The tears that had been pooling in your lashes threaten to spill down your cheeks, so overcome with fear and embarrassment that your stomach turns like you're going to be sick. That was just what you needed to top off this already life-ruining experience, wasn’t it; vomiting all over your professor after he uncovers your darkest, dirtiest secret.

“This is extremely inappropriate material to bring on campus.” Professor Park finally says, his voice wavering.

“Yes, sir.”

“And that relationship, it’s… wrong. It’s against the university’s code of conduct. I— he could get fired for that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You shouldn’t be reading this. It’ll put... thoughts in your head that don’t need to be there.”

“…Yes, sir.” Part of you wants to argue with him, remind him that you’re an adult and can read whatever it is that you would like, but you don’t have the strength to.

He sighs heavily, like something important is weighing on his mind, and he hands you back your book before turning back to pour over the scattered, forgotten papers on his desk. “Go home, Miss L/N. And get rid of that book.”

You turn tail and scamper out into the hall, but you can’t help but glance back into Professor Park's office as you leave. He’s hunched over his desk with his elbows resting on the wood, his fingers tangled in his dark hair as he rests his head in his hands. It seems like something is bothering him, something bigger than grading papers or your stupid, silly book.

You don’t stick around to find out what it is.

The next morning, you receive a rather hastily written email from Professor Park telling you that he’s cancelling classes for the rest of the week. He’s come down with a cold, he claims— you and the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach know better than to believe that.

You don’t see him until that next Monday, but even then he might as well not have shown up at all. He struggles to get through his lesson plan even more than usual, and he wouldn’t look away from his papers or the projector, even when one of your classmates raised their hand to ask a question. You spent the entire period gathering up the courage to go up to him after his lecture, but when you do he brushes you off with a lame, half-baked excuse about having papers to grade and no time to talk, grabbing his things in a rush and scampering out of the lecture hall before you can call out for him to come back.

The pit in your stomach opens up into a black hole, swallowing up everything except for overwhelming, gnawing anxiety. It’s eating you up inside, manifesting itself in how you’ve chewed your lips until they bled, and then bit your nails down to the quicks— anyone with eyes could see that something was weighing on you, and you became increasingly tired of all your friends asking if anything was wrong, so once you were finished with your classes you took to hiding out in your dorm room curled up on the couch, your favorite fluffy blanket wrapped around you as you sullenly binge-watched a k-drama you’ve seen a thousand times.

While you were more of a homebody, your two roommates were much the opposite. Karina and Giselle loved to go out and party. Tonight was no different, the two of them flittering around the dorm as they got ready to go out to some club, and while they had given up on trying to get you to join them a while ago, something about the way you moped about seemed to reinvigorate Karina’s desire to get you off of your ass and out on the town. She knew you better than anybody, and immediately she could sniff out that something was off.

“Why don’t you come with us? You can borrow one of my dresses.” She offers, rummaging through her collection of high heels. “It’s a Friday night, everyone’s out! We can dance, we can find some boys to take home; it’ll be fun. You look like you need some.”

“I don’t need to have fun. I need to study.” You reply solemnly, scowling, but you make no moves to get up off the couch. It was a shitty excuse even to your own ears; it was obvious you didn’t have any plans to do anything tonight except feel sorry for yourself.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” She huffs. You don’t even have to look at her to know that she’s rolling her eyes. “Something’s bothering you and you won’t even tell me or Gigi what’s wrong. Don’t you think a drink or two would be good for you? You can vent to us all night, too. I promise we’ll listen.”

“I don’t know if I even want to tell you about it.”

“Why not? We’re your best friends, Y/Nie. You can tell us anything, even if it’s stupid or embarrassing. If it’s bothering you this badly, it’s clearly something serious.”

You peer out from under the blanket to look over at Karina— the worry in her eyes makes your heart sink. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t even consider taking her or Giselle up on their offers, but the way you were stuck running circles inside your head was far from normal. “You promise not to laugh at me?” She smiles warmly. “Nope. But I promise I’ll hear you out regardless.”

The loud, thumping bass reverberating throughout the club did very little to help ease your pounding headache. Your temples throbbed with every beat, the pressure so severe it felt as if your skull was just moments away from splitting in two. You don’t think you’ve ever been this uncomfortable in your life; the dress that Karina gave to you was a size or two too small, the shiny fabric so tight around your chest that you gasp for air. It would be difficult for you to breathe even in properly fitting clothes, the air hot and heavy from the throngs of sweaty bodies that surrounded you. You felt claustrophobic, the crowd closing in on you and threatening to swallow you whole— the only place to escape was to the bar, but even there you’re bombarded with flashing lights, deafening music, and the overlapping voices of everyone around you. You have to strain your ears to make out what Giselle was saying, and she was just on the barstool right next to yours.

“Aren’t you glad you came?” She giggles, sipping on a brightly colored cocktail. She had ordered a round of them for all three of you, and the amount of alcohol mixed in them felt like a sucker punch to the face, even with all the sickeningly sweet grenadine the bartender had used to try and mask the flavor. You watch in abject horror as both she and Karina downed them one by one like they were water.

“No.” you reply honestly.

“You will once you tell us what’s going on with you!” Karina interjects from your other side. “I meant it when I said I wanted you to vent to us, let it all out and give us the tea! Aeri’s dying to know.”

“It’s really embarrassing…” you admit, staring forlornly down at your own drink. “I’d rather just forget all about it.”

“It can’t be that bad. You didn’t drop your pants in front of everyone or anything, did you?”

You cringe. “God, no. It’s not like that.”

“Then it’s nothing you can’t tell us about.” Giselle shoots you a smile over the rim of her glass.

“It’s… it’s about Professor Park.”

“You and Gigi's lit professor?” Karina asks, cocking her head. “Isn’t he the one you have a massive crush on?”

Your cheeks flush, your drink becoming even more interesting as you avoid looking at either of them in the eye. “Maybe.”

“Ugh, your taste in men is the worst.” Giselle snickers. “I don’t understand why you like him so much. He’s such a dick.”

You fight down the urge to defend him— for some odd reason, you feel a surge of protectiveness over Professor Park, even when you completely agree with what Giselle is saying about him. “Yes, I like him, but that’s not the point. The point is that I totally fucked up and now I think he hates me.”

“What did you do?! Please tell me you cursed him out, he fucking deserves it.”

“No, Gigi, oh my God.” Even the mere thought of doing something like that sends shivers down your spine. “He caught me reading during class.”

“…That’s it? You’re freaking out over that?” Giselle blinks.

“It’s what I was reading that’s the problem.” you lament miserably, gathering your courage with a sip of your disgusting cocktail. “I have this book; it’s about a teacher and a student… getting together, if you know what I mean. It’s really dirty… and he caught me reading it in class. He took it, and then he read it himself right in front of me! He thinks I’m a freak. It’s been two days and he won’t even look at me.”

Karina and Giselle stare at you.

“Why the hell were you reading a smut book in class?!” Karina gasps, her dark glittery makeup making her wide eyes look even wider. “And one about a professor, too— were you trying to get caught? There’s better ways to go about telling him that you want to fuck him.”

“I don’t know— I was bored and stupid, okay?!” You had been asking yourself the same question for days, mentally beating yourself to a pulp every time it crossed your mind. “I thought he wouldn’t notice me since I sat in the back… now he’s going to tell the dean, and I’m going to get expelled, and—”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Giselle stops you in your downwards spiral, grabbing your shoulder to ground you. “You’re thinking too hard about this. He’s probably just a prude. If he was going to do something like that, he would have probably done it by now. Plus, I don’t think that’s really something you can be expelled over.”

You lean into her touch, resting your head on her shoulder as she pats your back comfortingly. “He’s mad at me…” you whine petulantly. “I was trying to get that TA position, too… fuck, I’m so screwed.”

“What would he be mad at you for? Being horny?” Karina laughs, “It’s really his own fault for snooping in your stuff.”

“I think you’ll still get it.” Giselle supplies helpfully. “You’ve really got nothing to worry about. Sure, your grade sucks, but I’ve seen the two of you talking in the hallway before— the way he looks at you is insane. And the way he looks at your ass when you leave is even crazier. You just showed him that you feel the same way about him that he does about you.”

“Don’t say that.” You groan. “You think that about every guy I talk to. There’s no way in hell that Professor Park feels anything for me except hatred.”

“If you’re really that worried about it, you can always just apologize.” Karina says, drumming her long nails against her glass. “It might not do anything, but it’ll make you feel better.”

That was the first bit of real advice either her or Giselle had given you in a while, even if it left a bad taste in your mouth. “I don’t know. I feel like that would just make things worse. I need to go to the bathroom.”

You scramble off the barstool in a rush, teetering on your heels— you weren’t even that tipsy, but every step made you feel like a newborn deer. Karina and Giselle watch you hobble away in pity.

You stumble through the crowd in search of a bathroom sign, quickly getting lost in the sea of bodies. There’s little room to move around, everyone pressed up against each other dancing, too intoxicated to notice you trying to politely squeeze by. They jostle and knock you around, and you nearly trip over your own wobbly feet multiple times. Your headache grows nearly unbearable, your desperation to find an escape leading you to start pushing people out of the way so you can continue to move forward. One particularly drunk woman nearly knocks you to the ground, and she shoots you a dirty look over her shoulder when you shoulder past her roughly. You hate to be rude, but you’re teetering dangerously close to your breaking point. You need to find some peace and quiet, and fast.

But all of that goes out the window when among the countless bobbing and weaving heads, you spot a frighteningly familiar pair of broad shoulders.

“Professor Park?!” you call out in shock, shoving your way towards him. “What are you doing here?!”

Without his suits and big clunky glasses on, you almost don’t recognize him. He was leaning back against the wall with two men who you vaguely recognize as other professors at the university, talking and laughing amongst themselves with beers in their hands. You admire the profile of his strong, angular nose, the way his pronounced collarbones peeked out from the loose linen shirt he wore, the first few buttons undone to show a delicious strip of tan skin. His dark hair, usually gelled back to show his forehead, was left fluffy and untamed, framing his dark, intoxicating eyes. He jumps a little at your voice, turning away from the men to look at you.

His eyes widen sharply, moving slowly from your face down to your chest. They linger there for a moment, blinking owlishly, before he tears them away from you completely, the tips of his ears turning bright red.

“Oh, um. Hello, Miss L/N.” he covers up his stutter with a weak cough, suddenly very interested in the state of his shoes. You make a quick mental note to thank Karina later for convincing you to squeeze yourself into this stupid dress.

“Oh, this is Y/N?” One of the two other men slurs gleefully, a grin stretching across his handsome face. There was a certain hunger in the way he undresses you with his eyes, scanning you head to toe like a predator. You could tell from his flushed pink cheeks that he was very drunk. “I’ve heard all about you! It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

Something odd flashes in Professor Park's eyes and he jerks his head to shoot his friend a deathly glare. He was far too tipsy to notice.

“You’ve… heard about me?” you cringe, your heart sinking. Out of whatever Professor Park had to say about you, none of it could be anything good.

“Oh, not much, just that you’re one of the brightest students that he’s ever taught.” The other man cuts in, chuckling. He tips his head back and takes a swig of his beer, flashing you his sharp jawline. “One of his favorites to have in class, he says.”

“Such a smart head on those little shoulders! You should consider taking my econ course next year, it’d be a gift to see your pretty face in my class.” The first man adds, his crooked smirk widening.

“Jake, Jay, please.” Professor Park grits out through gritted teeth, anxiously running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, what did you say, Miss L/N?”

You splutter as your lips refuse to form words. You?! The brightest student he’s ever had?! That was just a complete and utter lie; if it wasn’t for Giselle helping you with an extra credit assignment you had practically begged him on your knees for, you would be failing his class spectacularly. You couldn’t fathom why Professor Park would say something like that to these two men, when nearly every class he was scolding you for being late, distracted, forgetting your deadlines, a combination of all three and more. Not only that, but with what had transpired the other day still fresh and stinging… they had to be saving face or making some kind of sick joke. As you collect your thoughts, you half expect them to start pointing and laughing.

“What are you doing here?” you repeat, peering up at Professor Park's blushing face. He avoids meeting your eyes, just like how he did in class.

“Am I not allowed to enjoy the start of my weekend?” he retorts, fiddling with the pull tab on his beer. “Clearly, you’re doing the same.”

He spits out the words like they left a bad taste in his mouth. It stung like an insult. “I thought you said you were busy.” you assert, biting your lip to keep from scoffing. The liquor giving you a little too much courage; he was still Professor Park, even if now standing in front of you he looked like just any other guy.

“I… was.” He mumbles, “And now I’m not anymore. It’s really not any of your business.”

It takes everything you have to keep from blurting out that your book really wasn’t any of his business either, but you manage to hold your tongue.

“I’m sorry, I just— Sir, I need to talk to you.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He says matter-of-factly. It’s far from what you were expecting him to say.

“What do you mean?” you challenge, your annoyance starting to turn sour. “It’s about the other day.”

Professor Park continues to play dumb, though he keeps throwing sidelong glances to his coworkers. “What about it?”

“I want to apologize.” You bite hard on your lower lip. For doing nothing wrong.

Professor Park's eyes snap up to meet yours, inky dark irises wide in shock. “Y/N—”

“Apologize?” Professor Park's friend— Jake, you think— butts in, raising an eyebrow. “What happened?”

All the color leaves Professor Park's face, even the blush that was slowly trailing from his cheeks down his neck. He awkwardly clears his throat and averts his gaze, putting on a show of cupping his ear and pretending to be confused. “Sorry, I can’t hear you over all of this noise! If you have a question, I’ll be in my office tomorrow afternoon. Go on and have a good night.”

“Wait, Professor—!”

“Have a good night!”

It takes you a long time to find your way back to the bar, drunk, defeated, and stewing in your own thoughts. You’re pleasantly surprised to see that Giselle and Karina have been sat waiting for you all this time, but you don’t have it in you to feel happy or grateful as you plop yourself back onto your empty barstool. Their irritation quickly shifts to confusion and worry, both shooting you odd glances as Karina tentatively hands you another cocktail.

“Are you okay?”

“Did you get lost or something?”

You take a long sip, the disgusting sweetness and the bitter liquor overpowering your senses enough to calm your racing thoughts. “I think I’m going to go and talk to Professor Park tomorrow.” is all you say.

“If you fuck him, please put in a good word for me.” Giselle slurs drunkenly in reply. “I need to pass that fucking class.”

“You’ve been a bad girl, haven’t you, Miss L/N?” Professor Park whispers in your ear, his deep voice dripping with honeyed venom. The fabric of his dress shirt ghosts over your back, his body so close that you can feel the heat radiating off his skin. He has you trapped against his big wooden desk, bent over it obscenely with your ass in the air as you whimper and squirm. Your skirt and panties pool at your ankles, leaving your most intimate areas exposed for him to view. Your leaking pussy quivered from the icy cold air, your hole clenching desperately around nothing and aching to be filled.

“I’m sorry!” You mewl, voice wavering.

“You didn’t answer my question. What are you sorry for?” he presses, so deliciously condescending in the way he feigns ignorance, “Apologize to me properly and tell me what it was that you did.”

“I’ve been bad, sir. I was reading during your lecture, and I’m sorry—”

“Oh, you weren’t just reading.” Professor Park scoffs, straightening himself up and off your back. He rounds the desk to circle you like prey, his slow methodical steps echoing throughout the quiet of his office. They echo in your ears and strike a dizzying mix of fear and anticipation in your heart.

“I-I was reading smut and…” your face burns hotter than the sun, and you close your eyes and take a deep breath to will yourself to have the courage to admit what it was you were caught doing. “…And I was touching myself.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that.” He stops to stand at your side, his mere presence hovering above you enough to make you shudder. “Tell me exactly how you were touching that slutty little pussy.”

His words go straight to your core, making you squeeze your thighs together in need. Just a little friction was all you needed, and the edge of his desk granted a great opportunity… but as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t let yourself give in to desperation and grind yourself against Professor Park's desk like a dog in heat. He would notice immediately, and it would only worsen your punishment.

“I was… I was rubbing my clit through my panties.” you admit ashamedly, “Grinding against my fingers. I was going to put one inside but you… you stopped me.”

“I could see your hand up your skirt all the way from the back of the class.” Professor Park spits, his carefully controlled demeanor cracking and his wild, untamed anger boiling to the surface. “It’s like you’re trying to get the two of us caught. You’re lucky no one else was looking… or was that what you wanted? Did you want everyone to see what a slut you are?”

“N-no!” you gasp, but the idea gets you even wetter; you wanted nothing more than for everyone to know that he was much more than just your professor, that he was yours and in turn you were his. “I’m a slut j-just for you, no one else!”

“Fuck, that’s right.” he groans lowly, his voice dripping sex. He picks up a long wooden ruler off his desk, right by your head, and points the tip at the nape of your neck. It ran slowly down the curve of your spine, a ghostly barely-there touch that left a trail of fire erupt across your skin. He stops at the plush swell of your ass, gently caressing your flesh with the cold wood. “You’re all mine. My favorite little student. You just need some discipline to put you back in your place, hm? Show me what a good girl you can be and count for me.”

He rears his arm back, poised and ready to strike. You can hear the ruler whooshing through the air, sharp and fast as he swings his arm forwards—

Your eyes snap open with a gasp. Suddenly, you’re back in your bedroom, curled up safe and sound in your bed, groggy and disoriented as you slowly come back down to reality. While you dreamt about Professor Park often, never had one felt this vivid, this real. You can still feel the echoes of his touch, the phantom pain of his ruler against your asscheek haunting you like a ghost. Your panties are soaked through completely, sticky arousal pooling in the fabric and dripping down your thighs, creating a wet spot on your sheets. You toss and turn to try and go back to sleep, but it’s no use; you’re so horny you can’t think straight, can’t ignore the dull throbbing in your core.

As your hand slides under the waistband of your panties, you decide that enough is enough.

You were at your breaking point. Your life had spiraled completely out of control in the span of just two days, all because your stupid puppy-love crush of a professor had to be nosy about your reading material. He just had to find a way to humiliate you even more than he already did, didn’t he? He could’ve just given you your book back and the two of you could have gone on with your lives. He shouldn’t have even taken your book in the first place! You could have continued fantasizing about him from the back of the class, not a worry in the world, instead of losing precious hours of sleep and mentally beating yourself up.

And after your interaction at the bar, you feel even more ridiculous. If Professor Park truly had the intention of telling someone about what he had caught you reading, wouldn’t he have told the other professors that he was with? And lying to them about you being his smartest student… you couldn’t wrap your head around it.

It was clear that he didn’t want to talk about it. But even if he wants to pretend like none of this ever happened, you just couldn’t.

There was simply no other way for you to get over all of this other than finally confronting him. You needed to make the endless spiral stop, tell him exactly what was on your mind and finally put this to bed. The longer you stew over everything that has transpired, the more your fear and anxiety boils over into anger. This was all Professor Park's fault! You needed to give him a piece of your mind, or you don’t think you’ll ever be able to move on.

Professor Park doesn’t answer until after the fifth knock, his face immediately dropping once he swings open his office door to see you standing there in front of him. His hair is a mess and his clothes are disheveled, his tie half undone and his shirt sleeves rolled up past his elbows. Anxiously he adjusts his glasses, the wide brown eyes behind them looking like a cornered deer’s. “You actually came over to apologize?” He blurts out before you can even open your mouth, genuine surprise taking over his features. “I didn’t think you—"

“Actually, no, I’m not here to apologize!” you declare, the words spilling out before you gave yourself the time to second guess yourself. You had lied awake until the sun came up thinking about what to say, and you weren’t going to let those wasted hours go to waste. “I’m here to tell you, sir, that going through my book was an invasion of my privacy! And that it’s none of your business what I read! I’m an adult, not a child, and I can do whatever I damn well please!”

Professor Park blinks owlishly, staring at you in stunned silence for so long that your newfound confidence falters and you begin to shuffle nervously.

“Oh. Um… alright.” He finally says.

“Alright?!” you echo incredulously, your irritation coming back in full swing. “You’ve been avoiding me for days and all you have to say for yourself is alright?!”

Professor Park's eyes flicker around anxiously, and it suddenly hits you that you were yelling at him in a public hallway. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Yes you do!” you shriek. This really wasn’t how you were planning on any of this going, but it was far too late to turn back. You open your mouth to continue your rant, face burning hot with unbridled rage, but Professor Park quickly grabs your wrist and roughly pulls you into his office. The sudden act shocked you into silence, your eyes wide and mouth agape as he drags you all the way back to his desk.

“Listen.” He growls, his voice octaves deeper than you’ve ever heard it before. “You’re acting way out of line right now. Don’t you dare ever talk to me like that, you understand me? I’m still your professor, even when we’re not in class. You’re to treat me with respect—”

“Then you treat me with respect first!” you retort, though you do manage to calm yourself down enough to lower your voice. “Playing dumb and refusing to talk to me after humiliating me in front of everyone! What was even the point of doing that? Was it just for your own sick pleasure?!”

“Y/N.” Professor Park sighs, the second time you’ve ever heard him call you by your first name— the first was at the club, but you were far too distracted to dwell on it. “I know you have some sort of feelings for me. You’re not very good at hiding it.”

Your entire world comes crashing around you, though you suppose that you shouldn’t be too surprised. You had just let yourself hope beyond reason that he would never pay you any attention.

“What I’m trying to say is… Y/N, you need to stop it. Get rid of the book. I can’t be with you, it’ll never work, okay? I’m your teacher, and ten years your senior. There’s plenty of college boys around campus for you to ogle over instead.”

“You say you can’t but… do you want to?” you ask quietly, barely above a whisper.

Professor Park doesn’t meet your eyes. “I could get in a lot of trouble, Y/N. You could too.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” You challenge, a hopeful spark igniting in your chest. He didn’t say no… and you may be looking too into things, or just clinging onto hope, but that was more than enough proof to you that your professor was hiding some feelings of his own.

“We can’t do this.” He mumbles, his voice growing wilder, more defiant.

“Sure we can! I’m an adult, you’re an adult… did I scare you away with my book or something? Look, it’s okay if it wasn’t up your alley. There’s nothing wrong with being vanilla, Professor. You don’t have to, like, spank me or anything—”

“But I do!” he interjects suddenly, his head shooting up to look at you with wild eyes. His entire face was bright crimson red.

“You… wait, what?” you must have misheard him. That was the only explanation, surely; There was no way he actually—

“I can’t stop thinking about it! I thought there was no way you’d be into anything like that, that I needed to stop thinking about you and move on like a professional, but then you go and pull this, and now I can’t go a single second without thinking about putting you over my knee! It’s driving me insane! I can’t even look at you!”

“Professor—”

“Sunghoon. God, just call me Sunghoon. I can’t handle you calling me that right now.”

You open and close your mouth a couple of times, surely looking like a fish out of water— This was the absolute last thing you expected to come out of your professor’s— Sunghoon's—mouth. Your eyes bulge out of your head, your face burns hotter than the sun… your pussy clenches pathetically. It felt like you were in a dream, almost, which might have been why you suddenly felt so brazen— if you wanted him, and he wanted you, who were you to deny him?

“Then do it.” you say, voice barely above a whisper. He looks just as shocked at your proclamation as you were. “If you want to do it that bad, do it.”

He moves in a flash, giving you no time to prepare— within seconds has you thrown over his lap on his office swivel chair, your hair hanging in your face as you blink wildly at the floor. Sunghoon brushes one of his big hands against you skirt-clad ass, barely a brush of his fingers, but you still gasp all the same.

It takes you a moment, but you manage to choke out a whiny “Yes, sir, please.”

Sunghoon stutters out an uneven breath, his fingers inching down to the hem of your skirt, teasing the tops of your thighs for just a moment before pulling the fabric up to expose your ass, a noticeable wet spot present on your panties.

“So pretty…” He coos. You can feel his cock twitch against your stomach, those long knobby fingers trailing along the edge of your lacy thong. “Is it okay if I take your panties off, bunny?”

You whimper and nod your head— Sunghoon lands a gentle love-tap to the junction of your thighs with an airy chuckle. “Use your words like a good girl.”

This couldn’t be happening. You had to be dreaming, or hallucinating, or something, anything except truly living through this fantasy come to life— Boring, bland Professor Park, the biggest prude you thought you knew, was just way too good at this, at making your legs shake and your pussy throb all the while barely touching you. In just an afternoon your reality had shifted from thinking that he had to be the world’s biggest loser virgin to thinking that he was even sexier than the professor in your book.

You weren’t sure how to feel about it, but your cunt did.

You must have stayed silent for too long, because without much warning Sunghoon lands a much harsher spank to the top of your asscheek. “Bad girl!” he admonishes, and you can hear the teasing, rotten grin in his voice “C’mon baby, use your big girl words. Tell me how much you want it.” His hot breath fans over your ear— you couldn’t hold in your moan even if you tried, the broken whine sounding weak and pathetic even to your own ears.

“P-Please, sir… please take my panties off. Please spank me.” you whimper, your face beet red and your pussy drooling— his deft fingers stroke slowly up and down your folds, feeling the wetness seep through the cotton fabric of your panties. You bite your lip to keep from screaming.

“That’s my good girl.” You could hear your panties rip as he tears them off of you in one solid motion, the biting cold air meeting your hot soaking cunt and making both you and Sunghoon hiss. He admires the slick leaking down your thighs for a brief silent moment, deep breathy voice cooing at the way you arch into him and his touch, before he straightens back up and lands a stinging, eye watering spank deliciously close to your core. You yelp at the sting.

“That’s for being a fucking tease,” he states, soothing your reddening flesh with a soft caress of his palm. “Being so fucking sexy all the time and driving me crazy because I thought I could never have you.”

You hadn’t realized that this was confessional. Shooting him an evil smile over your shoulder, you giggle, “You could’ve just asked.”

Another spank, this time with even more force. Your hips buck with a shrill cry spilling from your open, panting mouth, your eyes watering— you had no idea Professor Park was this strong. He refuses to give you any time to prepare, never warning you when the next hit to your ass will come. “I didn’t say you could talk back to me.” He growls.

You’re on the verge of tears from the red-hot stinging in your ass, but you still giggle at his words. “You’re kinky.”

He just rolls his eyes, spanking you again, albeit a little softer. “And this one’s for being a brat. How about you start counting for me, little girl? That’s one.”

“One?! You’ve hit me four times!” Maybe you were pushing it too far, but it just came naturally to you to fight back, make him work for your submission and obedience. You relished pushing him as far as he would go; you relished losing.

Sunghoon grabs a handful of your hair and yanks hard, making you gasp loudly and your empty pussy flutter. Leaning down close to your ear, he lets out a warning growl; “I said fucking count.”

You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet in your life. Torn between bucking your hips into Professor Park's bulge and pushing back into the touch of his hand, you give a quiet, watery whimper of “One…”

The hand holding your hair lets go, your head falling limply over his knee. “That’s my girl.” He coos lowly, stroking your head.

It distracts you enough that the next harsh slap to your ass feels even more intense than any of the others before it. “T-two…”

“That’s for being so fucking disrespectful. And in front of my colleagues too, no less. It’s like you were asking for me to ruin you.” he tsks. “You need to learn to watch your mouth.”

The urge to say something smart tugs at you again, even if just to prove his point, but another spank rains down on your sore, bruising asscheeks before you can seize the opportunity.

“T-three!”

“And that’s… that’s for pushing me to put you over my lap in the first place. You couldn’t just leave it alone, could you? And now look at you, making me risk my job to teach you a lesson.” Sunghoon's voice wavers, filling with an emotion you couldn’t quite place— it was extremely difficult to focus on his words when his fingers began to trail down the curve of your ass to your sticky, quivering folds, rubbings the tip of his thumb right over your clothed core. You moan unabashedly, shifting your hips and opening your legs to give him better access to what was peeking out between your thighs.

The fifth spank never comes. He pushes two long, thick fingers between your folds, stuttering out a low moan like he was the one being touched. He starts a rough, dizzying pace almost immediately, his fingertips searching for that spongy spot inside of you. You grind your hips back against Sunghoon's fingers, a drooling mess against his slacks.

“Pr-Professor…” you whine high in your throat — you want more, want him to speed up, slow down… his touches were driving you wild. You hadn’t been touched like this ever before.

“I told you not to call me that.” He hisses, curling his fingers against your sweet spot and making you keen. “Please, call me by my name.”

“Sunghoon!” you cry out, writhing against him. You felt a passion rising within you like the hottest fire, clouding your brain. You couldn’t think of anything except of the pleasure that he gave you, couldn’t utter out anything other than his name.

“Such a slut, falling apart just on my fingers…” he chucks huskily, enamored with the filthy wet sounds your cunt made and how they echoed through the quiet office. “I’ve thought about doing this for forever, God… you’re just as beautiful as I thought you’d be.”

His thumb, wet from your arousal, comes down to rub tight, delicious circles against your sensitive, engorged clit, your strangled wail no doubt loud enough to be heard from the hallway. The building ecstasy distracts you enough for him to push in a third finger into your tight hole. The stretch burns but you love it, your hips kicking and moans growing louder and louder as he effortlessly takes you apart.

“...Too much…!” you manage to choke out, digging your teeth into the fabric of Sunghoon's slacks to keep yourself from screaming out in bliss. You felt full to the brim, pushed closer and closer to the edge with every rough flick of your clit and thrust of his perfect talented fingers. He teases a fourth finger around your leaking, stretched out rim, the threat of it alone enough to make your eyes roll back in your head.

“Oh baby, if this is too much there’s no way you’ll be able to take my cock…”

The tears that had been brimming in your eyes start to stream freely down your burning cheeks, choked hiccups and sobs wracking your body, but it was the most pleasurable agony you had ever been in. Your hips move with a mind of their own, bucking against Sunghoon's cock, thick and hard as a rock, only seeming to grow bigger and bigger every time you rub against it. You relish the sharp intakes of breath he takes every time you move against him. He was starting to fall apart too, you could tell, his voice sounding a lot less dominating and a lot more whiny and pathetic with each roll of his hips up into your tummy.

“I’m gonna… gonna make you cum on my fingers,” he whines low in his throat, his hand completely soaked in your arousal up to the wrist. “You gonna make a mess for me?”

His fingers dig impossibly and wonderfully hard into your sweet spot, that white-hot band of desire in your stomach winding tighter and tighter with each perfectly aimed thrust. You wail and sob, your hand reaching back to grab a tight fistful of his shirt sleeve. “I-I-m— ‘m gonna cum!”

Sunghoon's other hand, the one that had been stroking your hair, then comfortingly up and down your back, rises up to smack your ass, the sudden burst of stinging pain making you scream, and for real this time.

“You gotta ask first, bad girl! Gotta ask for permission b-before you cum…” His voice starts to break, his hips stuttering helplessly— the feeling of his big fat cock grinding hard against you only added to the fire in your belly.

“Can I cum? Please, sir, can I cum? I’ll be a good girl, I promise, just let me cum!” you had no control over your mouth, hardly any conscious at all— all you could focus on was the tightening in your belly, the way Sunghoon's fingers thrusted in and out of your pussy so good… you were his brainless whore, fucked dumb on his fingers.

“Shit, go on honey, my good girl… cum all over me, make a mess!” with his permission you let yourself topple over the edge, moaning and whimpering like a whore as you soak your thighs, his hand, his shirt and slacks with your juices. You lay across his lap twitching for quite some time afterwards, your chest heaving like you had just run a marathon… you’d never come before like that in your life, not as hard or for as long. Sunghoon was with you the whole way as you come down from your high, sweet as can be as he coos praises into your hair and pats your back, kissing your head when you raised it to look over your shoulder at him.

Slowly, you realize that you no longer feel his bulge poking at your belly. You release your iron grip on his shirt to slide your hand down his chest and abdomen, all the way down to gently cup his very wet crotch. “Sir…?”

“F-fuck... sorry, baby… couldn’t help it…” he turns his head away from you to hide his glowing red face, but you can see how his blush spreads down his neck and up to the tips of his ears.

“Did you just… cum?” you ask in awe and disbelief, looking down to see a dark stain spreading across the fabric of his slacks. Sunghoon only mumbles in response, refusing to answer or turn back to look at you, his blush growing an even deeper shade of red. It was all the confirmation you needed.

Professor Park came in his pants like a virgin without you even needing to touch him. Something about that alights a blazing inferno in your core, your senses overtaken with need even though you had just had an orgasm yourself.

“I want to taste it.” You breathe out, your overwhelming desire eclipsing any rational thought and taking control of your words.

“Y-you… what?” his head snaps back to you in surprise, his eyes wide and clouded with lust as they gaze headily into yours.

“Your cum, wanna taste it, want it on my tongue…” you’ve never spoken like this to anyone, your voice not feeling like your own— the words spill out from between your lips mindlessly, desperate for more of his brain numbing pleasure as you rub him through his slacks. His cock twitches underneath your fingertips, beginning to harden again from the ministrations. “Can I please suck you off, sir?”

“Fuck.” Sunghoon moans, rough and deep in his chest, the sound shooting straight to your sensitive pussy. “Yeah you can, naughty girl, come on, get on your knees and suck my cock. Clean up my mess.”

Your entire body feels limp and weak, not wanting to cooperate with you as you slide off of his lap to the floor. It takes great effort to get yourself situated, kneeling on the floor with your unsteady hands grasping at his thick thighs. He widens his legs to give you more room to get comfortable, one of his big hands instinctively coming down to tangle in your hair as your own begin to slide up the insides of his thighs towards his straining belt buckle.

Ever so slowly and meticulously you unbuckle Sunghoon's belt, the jingling of the metal buckle as it’s casted aside like music to your ears. You pull his pants and boxers down together in one rough tug, Sunghoon canting his hips to help you guide them down his thighs. His cock springs free and slaps obscenely against his belly, smearing the light fabric of his dress shirt in his thick, viscous cum. You can’t help but stop and stare, enamored by the sheer size of it— nearly as thick as a can and twice the length of one, throbbing veins making your mouth water. Cum still leaks from his angry red tip, fat and bulbous, the entirety of his length wet and shiny down to his heavy, twitching balls and neatly trimmed pubes.

You kiss the tip with a delighted grin, the contact barely-there but enough to make him throw his head back and whimper in delight. Your tongue peeks out from between your lips to slide across his slit, earning a high-pitched needy hiss from the man above you, his long fingers tightening their grip on your hair as you lick down his dripping shaft. His thick, salty cum tastes like ambrosia on your tongue, the delicious bitterness quickly getting you drunk. You can’t stop until you lick him completely clean, and even then it’s impossible for you to pull away, the feeling of his weeping cockhead heavy on your tongue far too addicting. Greedily you suck him into your mouth, relishing in the way his girth stretches your lips before swallowing him deeper and deeper until his tip knocks against the back of your throat. You can hardly fit your hands around him, let alone your mouth, fisting what couldn’t fit down your throat as you start bobbing your head. More broken tears collect on your lashes and drip down your wet cheeks, looking utterly ruined and wanton as you gaze up from between Sunghoon's legs into his hazy, unfocused eyes.

The eye contact is too much for him— his eyes roll back in his head with a whimper and his cock twitches violently inside of your mouth, the grip he has on your hair shifting from guiding your head along his shaft to tugging you off him with a sudden and disorienting strength. He pulls you off him with a wet pop, a foamy string of saliva connecting from his shiny cockhead to your needy whimpering lips.

“I’m gonna cum again if you don’t stop,” he pants, gasping for breath, “I gotta fuck that pussy first, little girl, please. Need to feel that tight cunt squeezing around me.”

“D’you wanna cum inside?” you goad, a lustful, mischievous grin overtaking your features, “Don’t worry, Hoonie, I’m on the pill. You can fill me up if you want to.”

Your words make him visibly shake, the nickname making him whimper, what was left of his flimsy resolve crumbling right before your eyes, leaving nothing but primal hunger. “Get on the fucking desk.”

You obey immediately, hardly able to contain your excitement as you stumble to your feet and bend over Sunghoon's big oak desk, wiggling your ass in the air invitingly. Your skirt was pushed up past your hips, exposing your dripping puffy hole for his eyes to feast upon.

“So pretty…” he croons behind you, his hands caressing your hips and waist. They smooth over the exposed globes of your ass, his fingers ghosting over your sticky, quivering folds. Pretty pink skirt that compliments your flushed skin, looks so delectable running through his fingers as he grabs your asscheeks and spreads them wide. “You look so cute in pink.”

he hisses in appreciation at the sight of your dripping hole quivering, sliding a finger down between your pussy lips to circle at your engorged clit. “Holy fuck, you’re so wet,” he groans, accentuating his claim with a flick of his hand— your pussy squelches obscenely, the lewd, pornographic sound making your cheeks flush. “I can’t take it anymore, I have to be inside of you— you can take it, right doll?”

“Please!” you beg, hardly able to string together a sentence, “Please, sir, put it in, I need it so bad, need your cock—”

You’re interrupted by the feeling of his cockhead slapping against your entrance, Sunghoon running the leaky tip up and down your slit a few times just to hear your little whimper before burying himself inside to the hilt in one smooth thrust. He rams into you with a force that knocks the air out of your lungs, his long fat shaft stretching out your hole much more than you could have ever been prepared for. The burn is indescribable, overwhelming every single one of your senses in the best way, your tight gummy walls gripping his cock like a vice as the both of you struggle to adjust.

He's so deep inside of you it feels as if he’s poked through your cervix and into your womb, his big fat mushroom head snug right beneath your belly button. You’re so deliciously full that it makes your head spin, already fucked completely brainless before he had even begun to properly move.

“Does it hurt?” he asks you softly, so gentle compared to how he carved out your insides. In any other circumstance you would find it sweet that he was this concerned, but you were certain that if he didn’t start moving inside of you right then and there, you were going to die.

“More.” you croak back in response. “Give it to me.”

With a winded groan, he relents. He pulls his cock out until just the head was inside of you, giving you not a single moment to prepare before slamming back in with a force that knocks you further up on the desk. The hardwood against your cheek does nothing to muffle your loud, unabashed shriek, so he improvises by shoving two of his thick fingers past your open lips, the musky tang of your own juices filling your mouth when you suck hungrily at the digits. He set up a punishing rhythm within seconds, his hips clapping loudly and wetly against your ass while he muffles your whines and wails. His heavy balls smack against your oversensitive clit with every rough thrust, sending shockwave after shockwave of pleasure straight to your core. The desk cuts into the skin of your hips painfully, but if anything, it only adds to the burning sweetness building steadily in the pit of your belly.

“F-fuck, I’m close already!” Sunghoon puffs against the shell of your ear, pressing himself up against your back— you’re suddenly thrown back into your dream from the night before, the way the sensations were eerily similar yet nowhere near as good as the real thing. “Gonna cum inside you, is that okay? Wanna see how pretty your pussy looks dripping my cum.”

You can only drool in response, your thoughts fragmented and scattered, babbling desperate nonsense and rolling your hips back to meet his thrusts with a dizzying force. Your body vibrates with liquid fire, heating your puffy cunt and quivering thighs— faster than ever before were you hurtling towards your climax, that familiar tightening in your core growing harder and harder to bear. You wanted nothing more than to yield to the tide, let it overtake you completely, and in turn pull Sunghoon down with you.

Your professor was going to cum inside of you. The fantasies that had haunted you for months truly became a tangible reality. What did you do to make you so lucky?

“This slutty pussy’s sucking me in so fucking tight,” he groans, his thrusts growing sloppier, “Tell me you want my cum, baby, come on. Who’s cum do you want inside of you? Tell me and I’ll give it to you!”

“Yours!” you shriek with the last remaining bits of your energy, your words nearly incomprehensible to how you sniffled and sobbed around Sunghoon's fingers. “Want your cum— my professor’s cum inside of me!”

You took a gamble, but it was just what he wanted to hear. With one last aggressive thrust, he bottoms out inside of your pulsating cunt, his bulbous cockhead kissing your battered cervix as he cums with a broken cry. The sensation of his sticky, hot seed splashing against your insides is just what you need to tip over the edge yourself, your walls clamping down on him and milking him for all he’s worth as you ride out your own climax with long, surrendering moans. He hisses from the overstimulation, but he makes no movements to pull out, letting himself soften inside of you as you both struggle to catch your breaths. Thick viscous globs of your mixed cum leak out from where you’re connected, dripping down your thighs and Sunghoon's balls to collect in a puddle on the floor.

You gaze over your shoulder to watch as he slowly and carefully pulls out, a creamy, foamy white ring formed around the base of his cock. His glasses were fogged up from his heavy breathing, his hair and clothes even more a mess than it was when he had first opened the door, his pink face so irritatingly kissable when he shoots you a nervous smile.

You cant help but giggle at him.

“You’re not going to… tell anyone about this, are you?” he asks you anxiously, opening one of the desk’s drawers to retrieve a packet of tissues.

“As long as you explain to me why you told those other professors that I was your best student.” You reply smartly, your grin widening when he scowls.

“It was the only way I could think of how to explain why I talk about you so much.” He admits, a little shy, wiping down the mess between your thighs with a fistful of cheap, scratchy tissues. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d rather if we continued that charade so it doesn’t look suspicious when I ask you to come to my office every once in a while.”

“Will you give me that TA position then?”

“You technically don’t qualify,” He laughs, “but I thought that was a given.”

“You won’t regret bending the rules a little, I promise.” You tell him with a wink and a smile. The love-stricken grin he shoots back at you in return makes your heart soar.

“I know I won’t.”

#xylatox ficrecs #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon fanfic #kpop x reader #kpop fanfic

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queenofthekings · 2 years ago

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𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼.

Summary: Eddie's been trying to pluck up the courage to talk to you for weeks and Dustin has a perfect plan after watching you ice skate.

Author's note: I just wanted to write something short and cute lol. I've wanted to write something ice skating related for the longest time so here we are lol

CW: Just a whole load of fluff, no use of Y/N, some dirty jokes towards the end but they're not too bad, a couple drug deal references

Word count: 1.1k

Any hate will not be tolerated, constructive criticism is welcomed.

“Dude, just ask her out already,” Dustin groaned, hitting his forehead on the rink barrier. “You drag me here every Saturday to freeze my ass off while watching a girl you’re too chicken to talk to, skate around like Tonya Harding for two hours and then hear you for the rest of the week talk about how pretty she is.”

Eddie shook his head, taking a long sip of his soda as his eyes were fixated on you. “She probably doesn’t even know I exist.”

“Trust me, dude, she knows you exist, it’s pretty hard not to.”

Eddie had been crushing on you for months but had never worked up the courage to even talk to you, anytime he tried, he’d just freeze up and word vomit about something before being dragged away by one of his friends. He found out through a drug deal that this was where you spent your Saturdays, skating around for the best part of an hour by yourself before being an assistant coach for the rest of the afternoon.

It was not stalking, no matter what anyone says. Eddie just enjoyed watching you skate and came every Saturday to do so, usually dragging Dustin along with him, under the promise of buying whatever he wanted from the burger joint next to the rink.

Dustin took a large bite of his burger that was almost the size of his face, sauce and juice dripping onto his plate and all over his fingers. “At least just talk to her, man, what’s the worst that could happen?” he asked through his mouthful, licking his fingers.

“She could hear me,” Eddie muttered as he stuffed some fries into his mouth.

He watched as you skate towards the barrier, your friend handing you your water bottle and you more or less devouring half of it. Is it possible to be jealous of a water bottle? He could’ve sworn you looked at him as you finished drinking, causing his heart to skip a beat and look away quickly.

You, of course, hadn’t looked at Eddie and went back to skating, being careful to not crash into any kids as you practiced a few spiral sequences before doing a spin. Dustin had become interested as you began to spin, an idea popping into his head.

“Eddie, today is the day you’re doing to talk to her.”

Taring his eyes away from you, he looked at Dustin utterly horrified. “What do you mean?”

Ten minutes later, Eddie was forced into a pair of hire skates and pushed out onto the ice, swearing endless profanities under his breath as he tried to keep his balance. “Henderson, I’m going to kill you.”

Dustin gave him a sarcastic smile from the barrier. “Trust me, you’re gonna thank me for doing this for you. Now go over to her before you chicken out as usual.”

Eddie rolled his eyes as he pushed himself off the barrier and tried to skate towards your completely oblivious form. His toe pick was constantly catching on the carvings left by other people, causing him to trip every time he took a step. He was so focused on his own feet trying to not trip over that he didn’t see you in front of him and collided into your back, causing both of you to fall over.

You let out a surprised yelp as you fell down, quickly putting your hands down to break your fall. You turned to see who’d collided into you, finding Eddie faceplanting on the ice. “Oh god, are you okay? I’m so sorry I didn’t see you!” you instantly began helping Eddie to his feet, guiding him to the barrier.

Eddie winced from the pain of hitting the ice so hard but tried his best to hide it in front of you. “That was all me, sweetheart. Ironically, I was trying to not trip over.”

You couldn’t help but smile while watching him be honestly, just so adorable. “Ice skating is a lot harder than people think it is, I’ve fallen over so many times so it’s okay to fall… it’s Eddie, right?”

Eddie froze, his eyes going wide for a moment as his mind was trying to process just how much he loved hearing his name come out of your lips. “Uh, yeah, we have History together.”

Nodding, you thought about all the times you seen him in class; you’d caught him staring at you a couple of times but you always brushed it off as him trying to see the board or to look at another classmate. You’d noticed him coming to the rink too, but you’d never quite put it together that he’d possibly came to see you. You’d always assumed it was to do a drug deal as it wasn’t exactly a secret that drug deals happened in the parking lot of the rink, but come to think of it, you’d never seen Eddie really leave the rink almost until you did.

Both of you couldn’t think of what to say next, enjoying each other’s presence but also desperate to say at least something. It was finally broken when Eddie spoke up again. “Listen, uh, you’re allowed to say no but I was wondering if you could teach me how to skate.”

You were slightly taken aback by his request, you raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t picture you as the skating type.”

“So, is that a no?” he looked almost disappointed, looking down at his fingers.

Shaking your head, you grabbed his hand and began leading him around the rink. “I’ll teach you to skate, if you give me your number,” you let go of his hand once you’d arrived in the centre of the rink.

Eddie looked like a deer in headlights, stuttering over his words as he tried to look in his pockets for his phone while also trying to retain his balance. “Yeah sure! Did you want it now or?”

You laughed holding his hands to stop himself from falling over. “Give it to me after, you’re gonna end up falling over again.” You laughed as you began to slowly skate backwards, guiding him around the rink again.

“Can we have a whole class of you just doing this? Falling over is too embarrassing.”

Shaking your head, you let go of his hands and began skating a large circle around him. “Hell no! You’re gonna be gliding by the time we’re finished.”

“Or,” Eddie smirked, grabbing your arm as you passed him. “We call it even and I buy you a burger.”

Raising your eyebrow, you licked your lips as you shook your head again. “No gliding, no phone number, no burger. Get your ass around the rink, Munson.”

He chuckled as he let go of your arm, awkwardly trying to move forward on the ice. “I think I like it when you’re bossy, ma’am.”

You skated ahead of him, rolling your eyes. “You’re a dead man, Eddie Munson.”

“And you’re an ice princess, sweetheart.”

#spilled ink #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #tbh if this tanks idk if i wanna keep writing

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phobia-sweets · 2 years ago

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Ngl, feeling pretty anxious and sad at the moment, can I request a scene where the gender neutral reader (who is Scarecrow’s s/o) is being torn apart by anxious thoughts about everyone leaving them and dying alone and then be comforted by BTAS Scarecrow? Ps this reader needs lots of cuddles

Sorry if my ask is a bit depressing, I’ll completely understand if you don’t want to write about it. If you are going to write about it, by all means, take all the time you need!

aw, i hope you're feeling better already!! sending a virtual hug your way

I'm always open to write pretty much anything even if it isn't my strongsuit (so anything angsty and hurt/comfort) so i did my best. It turned out pretty short but i hope it's enough <3

BTAS! Scarecrow x reader

Warnings & Notes: could be ooc, not proofread

The anxiety pooling in your stomach made you feel like you were being buried alive. You felt an uncomfortable pressure as your thoughts raced. At worst, it felt like you were falling down from a high ledge, adrenaline spiking. Fear, anxiety, sadness.

Your boyfriend – Jonathan, was a busy man. He wasn’t a professor anymore, but making batches of fear toxin took time. That was fine, but at times it felt like he would leave you. Why? To work more. To terrorize more people. To-

You stopped yourself before you felt worse. With shaky hands you took your phone in your hand, looking at the time. three hours. He’s been in his lab for three hours. What if he left you already? While you were here, oblivious?

A weight dropped down next to you, dark eyes fixated on a book. Whatever book it was, you didn’t recognise it. Not that it mattered right now, anyway.

“What’s the matter?”

Ah. So your distress was noticed. Hiding emotions from an ex-professor of psychology never was easy. Sighing, you put your phone down on the couch. You didn’t look him in the eye. You just couldn’t.

“I’m anxious - Just Thinkin’ too much.” Jonathan had put his book down, now facing you fully. He was waiting for you to specify. “I just feel… scared. Scared you, or… everyone, might leave me.” No point in hiding it from him, you thought. “I don’t want to die alone, Jon.”

The silence after was almost deafening. It was like that until Jonathan broke the silence with a sigh. You felt his hand touch your face, slightly tilting it upwards so you were looking at him. His face was a bit puzzled, clearly thinking of how to word his response.

“I know whatever I might say might not help with your thoughts-” He looked unsure. He might’ve studied psychology for god knows how long, but this was clearly new to him. “But I hope you trust me when I say I won’t leave.”

Jonathan was a man that didn’t comfort people. He caused fear and terror, reveling in it. Having him try to comfort you on your anxiety, fear was something you hadn’t expected. He wasn’t heartless by any means, but you had sort of expected him to just look at you like one of his victims. You were glad that wasn’t the case.

#btas scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane x reader

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anlian-aishang · 3 years ago

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I have a weakness for soft Levi with minimal romantic and sexual experience ^///^ if you feel inspired, a fic where Levi and femS/O are both inexperienced and very careful and aware of each other, and are very awkward trying to be comfortable in their relationship together. ( like S/o is nervously trying to hold hands, and levi just harshly takes her hand just as awkward, and no eye contact and just complete secondhand embarrassment triggering lol) bonus points for amused Hanji 😅 sfw or nsfw 💖

This is hands-down the most adorable Levi I have ever had the pleasure of writing. I had a lot of happiness writing this ^^ I hope it makes you smile, too!

Word count: 1200 Tags: levi x reader, fluff, humor, pining, canonverse, brief allusion to intercourse, fem!reader

What the hell was I thinking? Levi asked, mad at himself for walking into this humiliating situation, as he stood before his best friend Hange - though that title may soon be revoked if this teasing continued.

The captain had just finished talking to the commander, inquiring about the rules regarding romantic relationships within the corps. Formally, Erwin stated that there was not a policy about it. Casually, Erwin reminded Levi that they worked in a regiment that had much bigger problems to worry about. As his wing man, Erwin winked, “Remember, Levi. Choose whatever you will regret the least.” The most obvious green flag he could give, Levi took it and ran. Out his office door, That answers that.

He thought that the conversation with Erwin had been awkward enough, but when he went to Hange, it got so much worse. Hooting and hollering when Levi asked how to ask someone out, so loud that the short captain had to reach up and cover the section commander’s mouth. God forbid the entire barracks - or you - heard.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Levi!” Hange crossed their arms and teased, “You act like you have never interacted with a girl before.”

“You’re not exactly the most ladylike, pal.”

Hange’s expression lit up, “Pal? I’m your pal, Levi?”

On his heel, Levi turned towards the door, frustrated fists bunched at his sides. Hange reached out and clutched the hem of his tan coat, nearly ripping it, “Wait! Wait! I’m sorry! I’ll help you!”

Levi still refused to turn around, “You have thirty seconds.”

They rushed through the basics. “First, make sure they know that you care about them. Second, make it clear that they are special to you. Third, try to find out if they're taken or if they're interested in dating. Finally, be honest about your feelings, but use a little charm!”

His back still to Hange, they could not see the perplexity on his face: knit brows, eyes darting back and forth. Be honest but charming? What’s the timeline? Show that I care or tell them that I do?

Levi simmered with that advice for a handful of days before he parsed through his plan and put it into place. For you, though, the meaning behind his strange actions was not exactly obvious. Why was he telling you to make sure your blades were all sharpened? Why did he snatch them off your person and offer to do it himself? Was he mad at you? Picking on you? Using you as an example? A bad example or a good example? Even more confusing was when he ordered others to be more like you - to do as many pushups as you, to run as many laps as you. Mixed signals left you dazed: does he think you’re the worst or the best?

Your confusion circled back to him as well. At times, you made blatant attempts to ignore his eye contact. At others, it was like you could not keep your eyes off of him. Asking him questions as serious as life-or-death situations, or as miniscule as how he liked to take his tea. Regardless of their nature, both of you started to realize: your interactions were becoming more and more frequent, far too frequent to be a mistake.

That realization was what led to your first physical contact on that fated night. Levi was walking to your room, eyes fixated on his dragging boots. You were headed towards his office, gaze glued to the ceiling. Both of you wondered, What the hell am I doing? Too distracted to see the person right in front of you - not until his lowered head met your cleavage, not until your lips met his forehead. One hell of a first base.

“Sorry!” You both yelled in unison, “I didn’t - I didn’t -” constantly interrupting each other. Levi shook his head, your mouth hung agape, “I didn’t see you.”

You had to admit, it was somewhat strange the way you both said the same thing at the same time, but not too out of the ordinary - that was until the next sentence you shared: “You’re so soft…”

Levi blushed, speaking under his breath, “Like a pillow.” He tried to avert his eyes, but it felt that everywhere he looked was the wrong way. To your eyes - too intense. Away - too avoidant. The pillows he had just headbutted - definitely not!

Your lip twitched as you attempted to hide your smile. Enamored but nervous. Flattered and flustered. You reached back to his forehead where your lips had left their mark and thumbed your lipstick aside, “Do you exfoliate?” His skin was so smooth, you envied and admired, “Do you have a skincare routine?”

“I - I…” Levi stuttered, having to catch himself before he went off on a dermatology tangent. He pinched the inside of his palm, Remember why you’re here. “I think - I think we… make a good…” What’s the word?! “Team.”

“And - And I umm…” Levi reached behind his neck and scratched at his undercut, a comfort move you recognized. Normally, you only witnessed it when he was disappointed in his squad or being made fun of by Hange - but this time, it was just the two of you.

Seeing your captain - humanity’s strongest - get so nervous in front of you alone gave you a soaring confidence, one that dictated your next action. Hurriedly, you reached for his hand. In your warm hold, he felt unexpectedly shaky and clammy. Sensing his anxiety, you tried to make it easy on him, blurting out your best guess at what he was trying to say, “Levi?” You swallowed, squinted, and squealed, “Do you want to go out with me?!”

Holding your hand, he felt your fingers tense up around him. Whether that was a sign of your affection or involuntary nerves, he reciprocated that squeeze. “Yeah, I do.”

That was how it began.

If you had been asked that night, you would have said that was the most awkward moment of your entire relationship, little did you know that the start of your relationship was just that: the start.

In your first kiss, he tried that lip bite Hange swore by, only to draw blood and hold ice to your mouth for an hour afterwards. On your first night together, you traced your tongue down his abdomen, preparing to give him your mouth, only to discover his ticklish spot and have him erupt in laughter in the middle of the sensual night. When he was laid up sick, you brewed his most expensive tea as a gesture of surprise, only to spill it on his sheets when you tilted the tray too far forward.

But in all of those clumsy moments, you only saw positives. You joked that the kiss was so good, you could taste it. Levi’s moans were made to sound even deeper after that laughing fit. Steam that rose from spilled tea, Levi insisted it cured his cold’s congestion.

Above all was an overarching honesty. Undeniable authenticity. No sentences rehearsed, no thought unspoken. With each other - and only each other - could both of you be unabashedly yourselves. No one else’s standards to conform to: you saw the whole Levi, he saw the entire you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

// masterlist //

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi #levi x you #levi ackerman x you #fluff #oneshot #2022 #request #anlian writes #my writing #alias's

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womanlives · 9 months ago

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There’s a common trope in literature. Two characters find themselves in a bad situation. In an attempt at levity, the first says to the other, “Well, it’s not like it can get any worse, can it?” And then it starts to rain. Classic. Mercy’s a sucker for it when she’s the one reading it.

Living it, however.

Amine. Seojun. Names she’ll forget within the next few breaths. Not critical to Jie’s survival; therefore, not critical to hers. What she does fixate on is the movement. Big Guy — Amine? — steps forward, jittery and uncertain. The healing won’t be nice. Calm Guy — Seojun — steps in for added context. A knife’s gonna be involved. My blood heals. On instinct Mercy clutches Jie tighter. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? “Who’s going to hurt?”

Probably best there’s no time for an answer. Mercy’s seen some fucked up shit in her worthless little life. Done some, too. What happens next, though? What happens next defies all rule, rhyme, or reason.

Magic. It’s magic. Slap a different name or technical term on it if you want. What Big Guy does is magic. He brings a switchblade to his palm, cuts — no, digs it into his palm. Mercy lets out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding: a hiss of half-sympathy, half-warning. Her eyes track the blade as Big Guy moves it away. Then he just — presses down. On Jie’s wound. Skin-to-skin, blood-to-blood.

It's almost humorously anticlimactic. Until Jie starts screaming.

He sounds like a shot dog. It’s the worst thing Mercy will ever hear in her entire life. Jie’s eyes snap open, sightless and wide. His body convulses, and Mercy panics. This is so far beyond her that she looks outward for reassurance. For help. Big Guy’s no use; his expression is locked in a grimace of discomfort and his eyes are squeezed shut. Calm Guy, though. Calm Guy’s still calm. Calm Guy radiates it like the sun radiates warmth. Calm Guy doesn’t look at her. Calm Guy stares straight ahead at whatever the fuck is happening to Jie, focused but relaxed. Just another Thursday night. His voice echoes in her head. Please keep in mind that it is helping.

Fine. Fuck. “I’m trusting you,” she says through gritted teeth. If it sounds like a surrender, that’s because it is. This is out of her depth, and she hates herself for it.

Mercy spends this short eternity comforting Jie. Or trying to, anyway. She thinks back to when she was broke in both legs and crying and dying. The scariest part was the loneliness of it. So while Big Guy hunches over the both of them and bleeds, Mercy presses her forehead to the side of Jie’s face and whispers to him. I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know it hurts, just a little longer, please, stay with me, I’m sorry, he’s almost done, you’re doing so good baby, I’m sorry. She only pauses when she needs to take a breath.

Big Guy interrupts. Mercy looks up at his hands. They’re massive, and shaking, and they make the bullets he extracted look almost comically small. What the — ? Actually? Who has time to give a fuck. Mercy follows his gaze to Jie’s torso and blinks. It’s healed. Completely. Covered in blood, sure, but no longer bleeding. The gaping holes are gone. He’s damn near good as new.

“Tell me I’m not dreaming,” she says. She’d laugh if her throat wasn’t so tight. There’s a lot of screams pooling beneath her jaw, begging to be let out. Not yet. “Tell me I’m not fucking dreaming. Is this real?”

Big Guy ignores her and goes for the ribs. Or tries to. There’s a rumble from Jie’s chest, one that vibrates into Mercy’s bones. Gonna kick your teeth in.

Oh my god. He’s okay? Mercy’s gaze whirls to meet his. Jie’s eyes are open. More than that, they’re alert. Angry. Her heart stops. There he is. That’s her man.

Somehow, her laugh gets out. Clipped, maybe, and breathless, but her relief is audible and buoyant. She frees one of her hands so she can wrap it around Jie’s shoulders, hugging him close. Her face presses to his; she drops a messy kiss just to the side of his lips. “Shut up.” She’s so happy. She feels like she’s floating. Like her laugh lifted her way. “You let him work. He’s fixing you.”

Jie’s okay, Jie’s okay, Jie’s okay, Jie’s okay —

After a moment she releases him. For the first time since the door opened, Mercy uncoils. Not fully, mind, but enough. She slips to the side so she won’t get in the way of Big Guy and Jie’s ribs. Her hand still tangled with his relinquishes him with a little squeeze. Behave. She gives a curt nod in Big Guy’s direction. “Keep going.”

Then, an octave lower, murmured against Jie’s cheek, “Big words for someone who got shot twice.” A solemn pause. “He’s gonna start again. Can I do anything for the pain?”

Sure enough, it's that same voice that answers.

Cruor steps up to heave against the barricaded door. The metal protests and groans, but gives way after a long second. The state of things are catastrophic inside. Then the first delicate crunch of glass sounds, and they both look down immediately. What in the world happened? Why does it look like an entire glass manufacture exploded? Disquieted, but no less determined, they step carefully through the debris. Over the long expired corpses. Through the blooming pools of rosewood blood.

They spot two figures in the far off room. One of which sits hunched, knife sharp and wound tight in vigil. The darkened glare feels just as potent as the fallen on his best of days.

"Hi, um, ma'am." Surprisingly, Cruor's the first to break their silence. He maneuvers past the elder healer, steps further into the common space with open facing palms. It only takes about five big strides to reach the pair. Nervous and fear ridden as he is of the felled hound, his instinct to help takes over. "I'm Amine, that's Seojun." A thumb's jabbed backwards towards Vector. "Not sure how much he told you about us, but, ah... It's not going to be, nice? The healing—"

"Amine, go ahead and work on him. I can explain things," Vector suggests, a pleasant smile scratched thin across his mouth despite the urging.

"—'kay." Cruor gives himself one last second to steel his wits against the bloodbath below. It's okay, it's nothing, it's a lot of nothing — holy shit that's a lot of blood. Already, he feels nauseated, but he doesn't pale just yet. A hand gently removes any cloth and gauze from where the bloodflow looks heaviest. Fingers stop short just before the exposed ruin of Jie's stomach.

"Before he starts, I want to warn you how a knife will be involved. It won't be used to harm him, I assure you. Amine, here, needs it to.. Bloodlet, so to speak."

Slowly, oh so slowly, does Cruor slip a switchblade into his free hand. The quiet shink sounds far too loud in the otherwise stagnant air. "My, um, blood heals." It's the easiest way to explain. He lifts the exposed blade for the lady to see first. Then he moves it to the palm of his already bloodied hand. Presses it deep to spill forth a rivulet just over the gut wound. "It's going to hurt, a lot." For Jie, he means, but the teeth gritting pain already starts to voice itself from the way the hound groans.

"It's going to sound harrowing," Vector adds, now grim-faced but with an air of empathy. "Please keep in mind that it is helping. Amine's blood speeds up the regenerative properties of the body—"

The groan turns into a throaty rasp, a second winded rattle. "Please don't punch me." It's all that Cruor says, quiet like a prayer, before he catches some of his own blood and presses down over the wound. Tightens his grip around the switchblade to dig into the tenderness of his own flesh.

That's when the howling starts. The baying of a limp sickened dog. Every part of Jie goes rigid. His eyes snap open, unfocused on anything but the searing agony reignited in his fucking core. It burns — oh, fuck, does it burn. He writhes involuntarily but doesn't lash out. Some part of him knows who this is, recognizes the method of which his body's forced to mend itself at a faster rate.

Ten minutes of this and the source of suffering finally presents itself. Two stubborn pieces of ammunition clatters from Cruor's shaking hands. The wound is gone. Organ matter, muscles, and skin alike look as if they'd never been scratched. Somewhere between the start of healing and this moment, he closed his eyes. Now, he opens them again. Immediately tries to find a not bloodied body part to focus on. "Hey— uh, ribs?"

"Gonna kick.. Your teeth in." Comes the strained growl, but Jie speaks. He's trembling as well, but his gaze is lucid once more — pinned on the sniveling wimp that's doing him a solid.

Cruor's throat clicks from swallowing dry. "Right, um, ribs." So he repeats the process from stomach to side.

#tewwor #mercy/ic.#thanks im fucking Dead #enjoy your morning snack you GREMLIN #ILU SO MUCH #the joy i had reading and writing this reply ???? unparalleled

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luvrlane · 4 years ago

Text

problems in the middle of the night | lhs, s

pairing. dom!bf!heeseung x fem!reader

warning/includes. GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT, daddy kink, (slight) bulge kink, (slight) corruption kink, oral fixation, penetration, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), nasty piece of work. but there's a little bit of fluff in it if you squint lol. DO NOT engage in any way if you're a minor.

disclaimer. THIS IS ONLY A WORK OF FICTION.

heeseung wakes up with a breathy moan. his heart raced as did the tent in his pants. great, he's fucking hard.

he glanced over the nightstand beside his bed, clock showing it's 01:51 a.m, and if that isn't the worst thing, it's the fact that he had you in his erotic dreams and now he's hard. you, on the other hand, appeared to be sleeping peacefully beside him, blissfully ignorant to the problem he's currently having.

now what the fuck is he supposed to do? he couldn't go back to sleep nor abandon his hard on even if his life depended on it. he needs to do something about it and he'd admit, he was growing needy. a little help would suffice.

so he started out with his asking for help by kissing your shoulder blades. feeling up your sides, his lips moved to the length of your neck, leaving wet kisses all over his trace. the action made you stir in your sleep. you were a light sleeper, any small disruption is enough to wake you up.

heeseung's lips ghosted on the shell of your ears, pressing a gentle kiss before he called out to you ever so lovingly, "baby. baby," his voice was as gentle as his touch, coaxing you from your deep slumber. "baby, we've got a problem." he cooes, hands now reaching the valley of your breasts, giving one of them a light squeeze.

now you're awake. "heeseung, what is it?" drowsiness was laced in your tone. you fought hard to crack your eyes open. instead of giving you a verbal answer, he opted to pressing his dick onto your hips instead, guiding one of your hands to craddle the tent.

"i'm sorry, baby. i didn't want to wake you." the tip of his pointy nose was tickling your neck now, as he moved down from your ear back to your neck, pressing down light kisses on the expanse.

"but it couldn't be helped." though sleepiness was very much still clouding over you, you knew what he was asking you to tend to.

the amount of love you have for this man is insane.

if being needy wasn't enough, now impatience creeps up on him too. he couldn't wait to get his hands all over you. inside you. but he needed you to give him consent. "can i, baby?" heeseung asked, a little breathy.

a small smile made its way to your face. the limb that sat on his dick reached around until it transitioned to his hair instead. fluffy, fluffy hair, resembling a cloud. you gave it a light ruffle. heeseung naturally leaned more into your touch, loving the way your fingers feel on him. on normal days he's an absolute sucker for your pretty little fingers. he still do, even now, but there's a more preferred place he'd rather have your fingers on. so he asked again, "hm, baby? give me an answer, sweetheart. i need to have you. i want to fuck you nice and slow. right now, baby. i need you right now."

fuck. he was basically pleading. but he couldn't fucking careless. it's weird, you thought. even in this mood, heeseung was able to set butterflies in your stomach. you gave him a small nod, before you decided. "go ahead, daddy."

go ahead, daddy.

daddy.

he's fucked.

heeseung wasted no more second after you gave him an okay. you were already lying halfway on your stomach since before he woke you up, so he climbed over you, nudging your legs apart. your nightgown was riding on your ass now that he's had you spread out prettily for him. he pushed up a leg, and your heart started to drum.

lee heeseung will never not get your heart skipping a beat. even now, even when he's about to prep you, even when he's casting your nightgown to god knows somewhere in the bedroom. you never once uttered a complaint through it all. you let him get his way with you. not because he owns you. but because all the trust and devotion accumulated over the years you spent with him had proven its worthwhile.

so when heeseung spread your dry folds with his fingers, you whimpered. you have just woken up, after all. heeseung played with the nub, fingers never really entering inside you. "daddy.." you moaned out. the waves of pleasure is starting to arrive on the scene. heeseung had his face close to your cunt now, giving the plump lips a light peck, while a finger slowly eased in.

he intended to make you wet first, before anything. and his method so far is successful. a wet muscle licked stripes on your folds, it had you moaning a little louder this time. simultaneously, his one finger pumped in and out of you, while he's licking and sucking your bud.

and now, you're fucked.

your arousal started pooling around your pussy, due to his diligent fixation. heeseung eased a second finger, smearing the wetness around the lips of your cunt. "fuck, daddy. f-feels so good." fuck, fuck, fuck. it felt so, so, soo fucking good. honestly, fuck lee heeseung and his crazy oral fixation.

heeseung hummed a response. he sucked on your folds, with some of your juice sucked in too. his cock is even harder now. lord, you are the death of him.

then something pooled in your stomach. cum, you were going to cum. solely because of his fingers and tongue alone.

heeseung must've sensed this, the way your walls tightened around his three fingers now, as he had added another one just a little while ago. he raised his head, your juice daubed on his chin. "cum, sweetheart. cum on my fingers. then after this cum on my cock. over and over and over again." his words only heightened the feeling inside of you. your face contorted in pleasure, eyebrows knitted together as you bite down your pillow. your legs moved around hastily, you were unable to hold your cum no longer.

heeseung brought his face onto your pussy again. all it took was a lick over your folds, along with the nonstop draws of his thick, long fingers, and then you cummed. heeseung didn't stop his administration. instead, he slowed it down, helping you ride your orgasm. he smiled as he felt your walls are now much softer, more relaxed, ready to take him in.

heeseung withdrew his fingers out of you only to suck on them himself. tasting your cum, which he claimed as the sweetest ever. aside from your lips, that is. "good job, baby." he complimented you, and even with your face flushed out, he managed to get you blushing.

he rose up from his stance, blanket pooling on his legs, and he discarded his boxer, pulling out his god damn well endowed of a cock to give it a few slow stroke. you watched over your shoulder, pussy still spasming from the head he'd just given you. "gonna fuck you now, baby."

he didn't have to say that. if possible, your heart thrummed even harder than before.

with that, heeseung guided his hands onto your hips, pulling your ass back by a bit and raising them in the position he'd dreamt to take you tonight.

the clock is now 02:22 a.m.

he was showing no sign of stopping soon. in fact, lee heeseung had just gotten started.

your cheeks were smushed in the pillow now, given the position. "remember your safe words, baby?"

you gave him a confirming nod.

from there, heeseung pushed his fat cock into your hot, velvety walls. the two of you moaned in unison. the stretch was bearable, remember how he had prepped you with his three equally thick fingers. but it still stings. he was bigger than average, and longer too. god, you fucking love your boyfriend.

"look at it, baby. look how your pretty little hole is accomodating my cock. holy fuck. you're so hot." at this point, heeseung was a goner. "too big, yeah, baby?" though you couldn't see clearly, you could picture his stupid grin.

"too- too big.. but so good.." heeseung loved compliments. especially if it comes from you. especially if it's about him. especially if it's about how he's fucking you so damn sweet. honestly, fuck lee heeseung and his big, fat dick.

heeseung hasn't even entered himself all in. yet you feel so incredibly full already. you swear, you could feel him in your stomach.

he gave you few experimental thrusts at first, to make it easier for him to slide the remaining of his girth home. your moans took a higher pitch. "ah, ah, ah!" and lee heeseung fucking had the nerve to laugh.

your ass is hanging midair, and his dick is moving in and out of you. could this night get even better?

"breathe in and out, sugar. i'm going to bottoms up." you loved the way he's always, always giving you a heads up in whatever he's about to pull next. so you did as you were told, breathing in and out.

your toes curl when you feel heeseung pushing his hips tantalizingly slow into you, feeling every delicious stretch of his length, the veins protuding your walls. you couldn't close your mouth. you're all too fucked out now, and he hasn't even began fucking you properly.

"there we go. that wasn't so hard, was it? that's my girl."

that's my girl.

you're absolutely wrecked.

you were drooling. lee heeseung's dick had you drooling. whimpers were let out from you. you could feel every inch of him and he's filling you up so well.

then he rocked his hips. "daddy!" you yelped, out of both surprise and pleasure. "fuck, fuck! daddy!" the pool of blanket around his legs and yours began to follow his movement. he angled his hips a little higher as his arm rests on your the small back of your waist, pushing your ass down by a bit, and then he pistons inside you. you fucking screamed. "ahhh, daddy!"

"sweetheart. baby. sugar." heeseung groaned out. "your pussy. mine. mine." he punctuated his words with a set of hard thrusts. "only mine." he had you crying for real now. from the position the two of you took, the tip of his dick was abusing your sweet spot continuously. have you ever been fucked so good that you cried from pleasure?

"you. all of you. the whole of you." he declared. his dick is in your stomach now. you're sure of it. when he pulled out his cock, leaving the tip kissing your folds, he muttered, "you're only mine. all mine." and then he dived right back into you.

"yes! yes—ah! ah! y-yours!" you had to drag out the "o" and your hands are balling the sheets. "daddy!" he loved it. he loved hearing you scream. he loved fucking you good. he loved loving you. "and i'm only yours, sweetheart." he whispered, though midway through his sentence, he choked and grunted in pleasure. "until the end of time."

you couldn't contain your moans. not when your boyfriend's thick cock has made a home for itself in your pussy.

"so—good!" look at you. you failed to find it in you to form coherent sentence.

his pace had gotten quicker. he had picked them up, and your folds made a squelching sound from the collective arousal of you and your boyfriend. "uh, uh!" you attempted to wipe the tears from your face, but heeseung had interlocked his fingers with yours before you could even reach your eyes. his other hand was hoisting your hips up in an angle that presses down that exact bundle of nerves in you. your thighs began to shake.

"a mess. you're a me—ss." he stuttered in between his words. it only go so far to prove that this rutting is affecting him too. very intensely.

you let go of his fingers to reach around your back, placing your hand on his pelvis. "y—yellow.." you muttered out.

yellow. a change of position. he smiled and slowed his tempo down.

heeseung had set your bums down, with his dick very much still in you. then, he turned you around so carefully, until your eyes are meeting his. your hair has gotten all over your face, but he didn't mind. he took one leg over his shoulder, and bent down to press a quick kiss on your lips, your inner thighs burning at the action.

now, you're all in his view. your face. your perky, round mounds. chest rising up and down. the curve of your sides. your slick, wet core. still attached to his dick. if you glance down, you could see the wide stretch. luckily for heeseung, he didn't need to glance down, for it's all before him already.

heeseung left a peck on your leg, dangling over his shoulder. he took one of your arms, giving your knuckles a peck, too. and then his hips stirred. "..!" you weren't alarmed. "oh!"

your eyes almost screwed shut due to how deep he's hitting inside of you. the expression you had on was dumb, and there's only one person to blame: fucking lee heeseung. he abandoned his hold on your legs and fingers, his hands now clamming your sides, pressing you down on him.

"fuck, baby. look." following his order, your eyes trailed to where he's looking. your stomach. you could feel his dick moving. no, you could see his dick moving. that seem to drove him even further south. "fucking hell, sweetheart. your cunt is too tiny, the way it stretched at my width. and now i'm reaching your stomach. you're driving me crazy."

as if he wasn't driving you crazy too. you arched your back at his comments and his thrusts, chants of his name falling out of your lips. "da—ddy! ah, ah!" you dragged out the "a", your eyes rolling back. "slow—down!" heeseung's forehead creased, pounding into you like a mad man quelching his thirst, he was unavailable to comply to your request. your commands only made him set his pace quicker.

you're going to cum. heeseung is moving way too rapid, every drag of his cock are designated into assaulting your sweet spot. if you were drooling on your pillow before, now you're drooling in your face.

"eugh! da—ddy," your throat was hoarse from screaming. he could feel the way your walls closed on him. it made him choke, struggling to keep up with his own pace.

"yes, baby? what is it that you need?" the leg on his shoulder is shaking, and you're bucking your hips wildly.

"c—cum.. i need to cum.."

"then cum, baby. all over my cock." was all it took for you to spasm all around his length, coating them with your fluids. heeseung leaned down to leave kisses on your neck while you were chasing your high, muttering praises that were lost in the hazy feeling you were having from pleasure. "that's my girl. good job, baby."

heeseung's hips faltered into a series of slow thrusts. he lied about fucking you nice and slow. none of this was nice nor slow. it was intoxacting, all consuming.

you were in and out of consciousness when heeseung tapped your waist. "stay with me, sweetheart. we're not done yet."

the clock is now 03:49 a.m. on most days, heeseung is a man of words. he keeps his promises and says things from the bottom of his heart. but once in awhile, in cases like tonight, he felt like having a cheat day.

#enhypen hard hours #heeseung smut #heeseung hard hours #lee heeseung smut #enhypen smut

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spectaclespencer · 4 years ago

Text

P.H. // Part 3; Need To Know

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N; Chapter 3!! Yay! I will not lie I got kind of lazy and burnt out when I finally got to the smut scene, and for that I am sorry. I’ll make it up to you guys with a future chapter.

Summary; Reader can’t get her mind off of Spencer, which causes distractions at work. Until one day when he catches on.

Category; Smut (Minors DNI!!!)

Content Warnings; Swearing, Kissing, Mentions of masturbation, Unprotected sex, Fingering, Oral (Male receiving), Drinking, Mentions of being shot, Kinda Sub!Spencer, Virgin!Spencer (but not by the end of it)

Word Count; 7.2k

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

Spencer Reid. The object of my attraction, the man I fell harder for with every stolen glance I could manage to throw his way. I was obsessed, and that infatuation only grew stronger every day that I saw him at work.

When we went out to bars after cases we ended up in an inevitable game of Never Have I Ever like a bunch of high school kids. With Emily and Derek in the group it almost always turned sexual. It started with innocent things such as; Never have I ever kicked down a door -- to which Derek drinks. There were some targeted jabs, I got Spencer a few times when I brought up an activity I was certain he had done -- just to keep him involved.

However he never drank past that. He never took a sip when Emily made a sexual innuendo, or when she brought up one night stands, number of partners, most bizarre location to engage in intercourse. Nothing of the sort got him to break. I figured he was a private guy, never one to boast about his sexual experiences.

It was frustrating, to say the least. It got to the point where I couldn’t think about anyone but him. I couldn’t engage in any sexual activity without my mind shifting to him, the way he might slip his fingers in and out of me, or how skilled he was with his mouth instead of the person I dragged home. No other person could even begin to compare to the remedy I concocted in my mind. I didn’t have any information to base my fantasies on, either.

I had it bad. So bad, that at one point I spilled hot coffee all over myself in the breakroom over the littlest interaction.

Spencer came in just after me, mumbling a small hello before reaching to grab a mug for himself. In the process of doing so his shirt rode up, exposing a small expanse of his lower stomach that had me sputtering as I clumsily missed my cup and instead poured the coffee all over the counter. It ran down and soaked through my pants; yet it wasn’t nearly as hot as the way I felt on the inside.

I couldn’t help but wonder the noises he’d make if I were to suck dark purple marks across that plain of skin...or if anyone ever had before.

The small burn was a fine price to pay for my inappropriate thoughts.

Him being the sweet guy that he is, offered to help me clean up. This proposal ended up with him taking paper towels and patting down my thighs -- not realizing just how suggestive the action looked to me.

“Sorry,” He whispered, looking up at my face from his position below me. He was kneeling on one knee, with a hand planted firmly on the outside of my thigh. His voice was soft yet raspy, and oh how I let my mind wander.

“Not your fault,” I said quickly, and borderline ran out the door before he could protest or add anything on.

I headed straight to the bathroom to wash my face, try and stop the effect he had on me from becoming too physical.

If I got that worked up over a small piece of skin showing, nothing could have prepared me for the first night we shared a hotel room.

I was in shambles all night, ever since the moment Hotch handed me a room card and explained we needed to double up.

Emily usually roomed with JJ, Hotch and Rossi got their own, and Derek refuses to bunk with Spencer -- if he could avoid it. Much to my luck, this time he did because Garcia was needed for this case, meaning she and Derek would be sharing.

Leaving me with Spencer.

I stood there helpless, eyes burning a hole into the place that Hotch was previously standing. I was panicking on the inside, my body going into fight or flight mode as I went through scenarios in my head.

I was 99% sure I would be embarrassing myself tonight.

“Hey,” Spencer said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I jumped and shrieked a little bit, and slapped a hand over my heart. “Oh my god, Reid. You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he laughed. “Sorry I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay.”

He nodded, eventually realizing that he was still indeed touching my shoulder. He dropped his arm, only to bring his hand back up to rub over his chin.

My eyes darted down to it, watching at the way his veins stood out. It wasn’t the first time I admired them, there were moments when he was going over maps with two fingers where I wondered what they would feel like on my-

“____?”

“What?” I asked, a little too loud for the setting.

“Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry.”

“I said we should go inside,” he laughed softly, trying to sooth the tension.

I agreed, stepping past him to start walking to our room. I opened the door with trembling hands, wondering just how hard the following nights at the hotel would be.

“I’m gonna go see Emily and JJ. Ask if they wanna go to the bar,” I said quickly, throwing my bag down just inside the door.

“Oh. Okay. Have fun! Don’t stay out too late. You should get a full night’s sleep.”

“I won’t be long. Don’t wait up!” I called, not looking back to see him before half jogging out of the room.

-----

“I cannot go back in there.”

“Oh, because of your little crush,” Emily laughed, much too loud for the early hours of the morning.

Clearly Spencer’s advice about coming back early didn’t plant itself in my head.

“Yes, because of that,” I confirmed. I was staring down at my drink, wallowing in self pity. It was too awkward to even step foot in there, I’m sure just by the sight of him I’d explode.

“What is it about him that gets you hot and heavy?” JJ teased. “No shame, just curious.”

I fake laughed, ignoring her question.

Everything he did was so intoxicating. Even the most mundane things got my blood pumping hard. Each time he let a small gasp through his lips or when he would whisper to himself, a shockwave went through me, igniting a fire deep inside that was near impossible to put out.

But he was so oblivious. He hadn’t a single idea of the effect he had on me. And that was the most frustrating part.

The first time I noticed my extreme attraction to him was shortly after I joined the team, it was only the third or fourth case I’d had with them. Spencer and I walked to a coffee shop to grab some for everyone, and on the way back he was infodumping.

About what, I can’t remember, for I was too fixated on the way his hands wrapped around his cup as he talked. He’d wave it around, and in doing so his fingers would trace little patterns onto the outside of it. I didn't mean to stare, I just got distracted.

I started noticing more little things after that.

Like the way he licked his lips while deep in thought, his mind consuming him to the point where he looked so concentrated and determined. It was hot, to put it simply. I wanted nothing more for him to be licking my lips, to feel him take such care with my body.

He had always been attractive in my eyes, the young boy was nothing but pretty. Even when his hair was shorter and he gelled it back, pairing the look with his glasses -- that he unfortunately wore less often nowadays.

It was nearly painful to be around him all day every day. My head would constantly be spinning with anxiety, only causing more and more headaches to present themselves. It was like a punishment, one I certainly deserved for the tasteful thoughts I had during work hours.

My crush went from an innocent little thing, to full fledged fascination.

‘I just been fantasizin' (size)

And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

Avoiding him as much as I could seemed like a decent plan at the time. If I kept my interactions low, I could distract myself with other things, and not focus on the way his lips pursed as I conversed with him. I raced up more time staring at his mouth rather than completing actual work by my six month stay at the BAU.

“I’m so fucked,” I nodded, coming to a bit of peace with my downfall.

“Well, you could be. If you told him how you feel,” JJ encouraged.

“No way in hell,” I protested, shooting my head up to make eye contact with her.

“____, there is a very, very high chance he feels the same. And if he doesn’t -- which he does -- he’s too sweet to let that impact your friendship.”

“We hardly even have a friendship. Whenever he tries to talk to me I end up running away. He probably thinks I hate him or something. He probably wants nothing to do with me.”

No objection from Emily or JJ there.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Emily asked, changing the pace of the conversation.

“He never speaks to me again. I die of embarrassment.”

“You’re both adults, ____.”

“We are 27!” I shook my head, exasperated. “I hardly even feel like one sometimes.”

“27, exactly. I’m sure by now Reid has gained some experience with talking to women. You’ll be fine.”

“I have absolutely no way of knowing how things will go.”

“Just give him little tests,” JJ suggested. “Like touch him. On the shoulders, compliment him more, really go up to him and make a move. That way if he doesn’t feel the same you can play it off as being platonic.”

I groaned and rested my head on the table dramatically. “You both kinda suck at advice. What am I supposed to do? Waltz into our shared room and confess my love for him? Ask him desperately to dick me down?”

Even though I definitely wanted to.

They laughed at that, saying they were going to bed and wished me luck. Emily advised I should try and ‘get some’ from somebody else, and maybe that would take my mind off of things.

After stalling some more I eventually made my way back to the hotel room, hoping that Spencer was already asleep so I wouldn’t have to face him. But once again, luck wasn’t in my favour.

“Hi,” he spoke softly from his bed.

“Why are you still awake?” I asked, trying my best to stifle a yawn. I threw my sweater down on my bed, before grabbing my go-bag and retrieving my pyjamas from it. “It’s almost one in the morning.”

“I wanted to make sure you got back okay.”

“I told you not to wait up. Naughty boy,” I joked, finally turning my attention fully over to him.

Which could've been a mistake, based on the way you saw it.

He was dressed in flannel pants and a black t-shirt, along with his hair tied up that I’d failed to notice earlier. I froze at the sight, seeing the way his cheeks were dusted a slight red, and lips pink as ever.

His hair was tied up, and I almost dropped dead at the sight. I’d never seen it before. Sure, he sometimes wore an elastic band on his wrist during the work days but never have I seen him actually use one.

“I’m gonna shower and then head to bed,” I said in an effort to keep my voice steady.

He didn’t respond, only turning his head back to the book that was in his hand.

Thankfully when I returned he was asleep, meaning I didn’t have to see him before bed.

The next day was torturous. I couldn’t get the image of him out of my head. The view of him so relaxed on his bed was ethereal, the soft glow of the lamp hand illuminated his skin in all the right places. Did he pull his hair back often? Did he casually sit at home with it up? How did he look in different angles or positions? Are there other things he wears or does that I haven’t seen?

The image was just so domestic that I couldn't stop thinking about it even if I wanted to.

I was afraid to fall asleep, in fear that my dream may turn adventurous. Quitting my job and moving to a new city seems more preferable than having a sex dream about your coworker while they were in the room.

I was hyper aware of every move he made, always keeping tabs on him in the back of my mind so we wouldn’t accidentally run into each other.

Apparently when I was paying attention on how not to see him, I failed to notice how he had filled out recently. He wore looser pants in the past, ones that didn’t allow much shape to show through.

The next day at the precinct I was in for a surprise though, one that was sure to make me fall to my knees.

And I would have, if it wasn’t for the fact I was already seated in a chair.

Spencer walked in clad in pants that were far too tight to be appropriate for work. Or maybe I was overreacting.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered under my breath, soaking in his appearance of the day.

It was hot outside, so he decided not to wear his usual vest and tie combo, choosing instead just a white pattern button up and grey tie.

I heard Emily snicker beside me, which earned her a light kick in the calf to shut her up. She got up then, winking at me dramatically before leaving the room to presumably go check in with Derek.

“Hey ____, can you come here for a sec?”

I got up without a word, and walked over to the other side of the room where he was standing at the map hung up.

He went off about the unsub’s possible comfort zone -- things that I’d need him to repeat later because I wasn’t fully listening,

I stayed leaning against the table, just two feet behind him which gave me a perfect view of just how tight those pants really were. They hugged his hips deliciously, I wanted nothing more than to rip them off in that moment. I nodded along dumbly, changing my sight from his ass to his back, to his toned arms that were shown off from him rolling up his sleeves.

It was a fair sight, I don’t really think I could be blamed for staring.

A few weeks after that he got a haircut. His longer curls were gone -- yet not forgotten -- and were replaced with a mop of messy waves that framed his face perfectly.

It was like a new blow to my stomach every time I got used to the change.

“New haircut?” I asked the obvious on the first day back from a long weekend.

“Yeah...thought I should change it up,” Spencer replied, picking up his coffee mug to make himself a cup.

I nodded, the room settling in a short silence.

“Do you not like it?”

“No!” I exclaimed, Spencer furrowing his brows in response. “I mean, yes. I do like it. Sorry.”

“Oh, okay,” he laughed. “Thank you.”

“You could pull off any hairstyle, trust me,” I said, before walking back to my desk.

People that we met seemed to feel the same, because he got stopped more often at bars and at shops that were needed to visit. People would give him their numbers, leaving him a blushing mess. It got obnoxious, to the point where I was at my breaking point. My shoulders were always slumped, and my forehead creased with jealousy.

I stayed closer to him when the team went out, in an effort to get other girls to stop making moves on him.

They hadn’t noticed his beauty before, why should they get the privilege to advance on him now?

It was selfish, really. It may have been good for his self-confidence, but not so good for my own feelings.

I made sure to compliment him more often, telling him I liked his sweater vests, and ‘oh my Doctor Reid, is that a new tie?’ It was a win-win really, for both of us. I was building up my comfort level with him, and he knew that I did not, in fact, despise him.

When Spencer got shot on a case a few weeks later, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to show him that I care about him.

It was an easy job, since the bullet only semi-grazed his shoulder blade. Only needed deep cleaning once a night, for a few weeks so it wouldn’t get infected.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a groan, one that sent shivers throughout my veins.

“Sorry,” I answered quickly, keeping my gaze on the task at hand and not on his face that was just so close to mine.

Here I was in Spencer’s apartment, in his bathroom, helping him clean off his wound.

“I’m sorry but you need to stop moving, it’s just making things worse,” I explained.

“It hurts!”

“I’m sure it does! But I can’t do an effective job in cleaning it if you keep thrashing around like that.”

I saw him pout, and lower his head. The gears in his brain were turning, trying to come up with a possible solution.

“You’re going to need to hold me down.”

“What?!”

“I’m not gonna be able to stop moving,” he said, looking over his shoulder to where I was sitting behind him on the floor. “Come on.”

He stood up and left the room, gesturing for me to follow. And I did, collecting the supplies I’d need as he led me over to his living room.

Before I could protest he removed his shirt fully -- not like how it was bunched up by his neck previously.

I stopped in my tracks, eyes taking in every inch of skin that he freed. He was lean, as I predicted, but still toned in areas.

Spencer laid on his stomach down on the couch, motioning for me to come beside him.

“Get on my back.”

“Are you insane?”

“____,” he pleaded, looking up at me. His arms were crossed by his head, he was using them as a makeshift pillow. “I just want this to be over as fast as it can be.”

Right.

“Okay,” I agreed, and began to place my materials down on the coffee table to my right. I then swung a leg over his lower back, straddling him just how I’d imagine doing so before -- only the other way around. “Is this okay?”

He hummed, digging his face as far into the fabric of the couch as he could.

‘I got a lotta new tricks for you, baby

Just sayin' I'm flexible (I will)’

I took that as a yes, and poured some of the disinfectant onto a swab. Bracing myself with a hand on his other shoulder to pin him down firmly he shivered, breath shaking ever so slightly. I tried to catch him off guard with the swab, choosing a random time to press it into his wound.

He was definitely surprised, because he whined loudly into his hands and clenched all of the muscles in his back.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he made similar noises during other activities…

“Just a minute more,” I soothed him, running my free hand over the smooth skin of his back, doing my best to calm him down.

His breathing only became heavier, and was nearly shaking from the burn. I felt bad, having to see him go through this but I’d be lying if it wasn’t doing things to me. I couldn’t help but get a little bit excited when I got the chance to be near him, to be closer than we had ever been before.

It was intense, I was almost sure he could feel my arousal through the fabric of my pants and underwear.

I was an awful person.

Going home that night to sleep was a struggle. I felt guilty, for using his pain for my perverse temptations. Yet as soon as my fingers were buried inside myself I couldn’t stop myself from imagining him above me. The way he might sound, spewing out similar noises that I’d experienced earlier that were still fresh in my brain.

I wasn’t proud of it, and I thought every one of our interactions after that would be even harder.

Going back to work seemed fully impossible, I didn’t have any hope in myself to stay useful while he was parading around, completely oblivious to the effect he had on me. I became more sexually frustrated every day. It was nearly infuriating to see a look of innocence plastered on his face, meanwhile he would do things that made me go crazy.

‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

“Penelope, I think I might die soon if I don’t get laid,” I said, rapidly opening the door to her cave.

“____-”

“No, I’m serious. I can’t get my mind off of-”

I stopped in my tracks, finally noticing the presence I hadn’t already accounted for.

Spencer sat in a chair to my left, just out of view that you couldn’t see him if you didn’t turn your head. He was in the middle of bringing a chip up to his mouth, but was stopped mid-air with his mouth hanging open.

“Sorry,” he said, scrambling up fast, bumping into things as he collected his satchel with shaky hands. “Sorry I’ll go.”

The door shut with a slam, and left Penelope and I in silence.

“Well, fuck,” I whispered, earning a booming laugh from her. “It’s not funny.”

“It is funny. It’s hilarious,” she giggled, doing a little spin on her chair.

I groaned, and sat down beside her on the edge of her desk.

“Maybe now he’ll make a move on you.”

“Oh shut up,” I slapped her arm, beginning to laugh along with her. “If he was avoiding me before, I’m sure he’ll never speak to me again.”

Ever since I helped Spencer with his injury the first time he’d been semi ignoring me, not trying to actively partake in conversation. We only talked when necessary, but didn’t exchange any extra words when I came over for an hour to help him with his wound.

I was almost happy about that, it meant I didn’t have to embarrassingly throw myself at him all day long.

I was perfectly fine admiring him from a distance, just how I’d done so for years.

However, there was a part of me that was rightfully sad. Did I cross a line, or make him feel uncomfortable? Maybe from spending so much time together recently he gathered I really wasn’t that interesting.

“Don’t say that,” Penelope frowned.

“Why not? It’s the truth,” I shrugged.

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”

“How I feel?”

“Don’t even try and wedge your way out of it. Emily told me, don’t be mad,” she said, with the sweetest look on her face that I couldn’t be upset.

“Bitch,” I playfully mumbled.

“Besides you literally were about to say that you can’t get your mind off of him.”

“Uh, no, I was not. I was going to say someone. A general someone. Not Reid.”

She hummed, turning back to her screen to finish up some work Hotch had sent her to do.

“Okay fine. Pen, I’m gonna die. It’s insufferable. I can’t handle it anymore.”

“That’s exactly why you should tell him!” She encouraged excitedly, always a swooner for young love.

“I would scare him. He’s probably scared of me, actually.”

“Oh come on, I’m sure his little virgin heart can take it.”

“What?” I asked, suddenly giving her all my attention. “Virgin? Is he seriously a virgin?”

“I don’t know, truly. I just kinda figured. He doesn’t talk about anyone or anything to do with sex.”

I nodded. That makes sense. With him radiating pure sex appeal in my eyes, the thought never even crossed my mind that he might be a virgin.

But that just made it all the more exciting.

“But hey, if he’s really a 27 year old virgin I’m sure he’s extremely horny,” she laughed.

“We are at work. Let’s calm it down before I actually combust,” I shook my head.

My palms were sweating at the very thought of him doing anything remotely sexual -- which I thought about a lot. Surely he’s had to at least...taken care of himself. I’m sure it was a gorgeous sight, his hand wrapped firmly around his dick and face contorted in nothing but pleasure.

My thoughts were interrupted by none other than the man himself, who barged into the room to say we were taking off for a case in 30.

The flight there was quiet and boring, we left at night so there wasn’t so much we could do when we got there besides head up to our hotel.

“We’re sharing a room,” Spencer said, walking over to me from where he was previously with Derek.

I was standing in front of the vending machine, doing my very best to not eavesdrop on the mens’ conversation, which was only taking place about 20 feet away. Spencer was speaking in a hushed yet agitated tone, and Derek was matching his energy. It seemed they were bickering, but about what I didn’t know.

“Says who?” I panicked.

“Uhh...Hotch did.”

Great.

“Oh. Alright,” I followed him down the hallway, our room was the last one at the end.

I waited for him to open the door, and when he stepped out of the way to let me inside I brushed past him.

When I turned around Spencer was standing there blocking my path, causing me to bump into his chest.

“Hello...” I said confused, taking a step back.

“I…”

“What?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. “Spencer what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer with words, instead reaching up to push a piece of hair out of my face. My breath hitched at the contact, sending me into a short frenzy on the inside. He was inching closer, now his body was getting just close enough so that I could feel the heat radiating off of him. He was glancing back and forth between my eyes, searching my face for an expression of discomfort.

He didn’t find any.

“I was talking with Derek. About you,” he whispered. “He said you’ve been coming on to me.”

My heart nearly missed a beat at his words.

“I've noticed your odd behaviour, you don’t act the way you do with anyone else on the team. You run away from me, and at first I thought you just didn’t like me, but now...I think it’s the opposite. I see the way you look at me, you know.”

“And how do I look at you?” I questioned nervously.

“Like you want me. Tell me. Who were you talking about earlier today? Who exactly can’t get your mind off of?”

I paused, eyes almost bulging out of my head at the implication.

“If I'm reading this wrong, let me know. We can pretend this never happened.”

“Get on the bed and take your clothes off.”

He did just that, moving beside me to shove his pants down his legs, followed by ripping off his shirt, as I did the same. We couldn’t take our eyes off of each other, too busy drinking in our appearances to think straight. He sat down on the edge of the bed in just his underwear, and spread his legs just wide enough to give me space to stand between them.

“Tell me what you want.” he breathed, watching me as I walked towards him.

“You,” I answered simply, climbing into his lap and connecting my mouth was his. “All of you.”

He didn’t protest, only doing quite the opposite. He moaned greedily into my mouth, sucking every last bit of life out of me. He was hungry in his movements, not allowing for a single beat of fresh air for either of us. I was more than happy to return the energy, for I’ve dreamt for too long about what he might taste like. And it wasn’t disappointing, the sensation was far better than I could have ever cooked up in my head.

After a minute he became impatient, and started bucking his hips up to meet mine. I did the same, grinding down on his hardening dick that felt...impressive to say the least.

“I’ve thought about you for so long,” I spoke against his lips, taking a break between kisses.

He groaned back at me, moving his hands from my cheeks down to my hips to hold me flush against himself. He whimpered when I was fully against him, he had to break away to keep his breathing somewhat managed.

“Please, I need you so bad. I’ve thought about you too.”

“What exactly did you think about?” I asked quietly, trailing kisses all across his face, and then started heading down his jaw and neck.

“L-lots of stuff.”

“Tell me,” I demanded, looking up at him from my new position kneeling on the floor. “Please, tell me.”

I brought a hand up to his boxers, ghosting just over his bulge while remaining eye contact.

“Everything. All of you. ____, Please.”

‘You're exciting, boy, come find me

Your eyes told me, "Girl, come ride me"’

“Let me do something first,” I said, pushing against his stomach to encourage him to lie back on the bed. He did so, propping himself up on his forearms to look down at me.

He watched my every move, not a second was missed by his eyes that stayed locked onto my form. I dropped my head down to kiss across his left thigh, and toyed with the waistband of his underwear with my right hand.

He was so vocal, and I hadn’t even done anything yet. I knew we had all night, but I’d waited too long for this to take my time.

‘And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

I pulled his underwear down just enough to reveal his dick hard and red as it stood up against his stomach.

“You don’t...have to,” Spencer stopped me before I could carry on.

“Do you not want me to?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s just…” He stopped, and bit his lip while staring off to one of the walls.

“Has anyone ever done this with you before?” I asked, almost unsure of whether or not I wanted the answer.

“Done what...exactly?” he asked, refusing to look back at me. His cheeks were red in embarrassment, and he was too focused on the distance to see the wave of excitement that flashed over my face.

“Spencer,” I said sharply, prompting him to turn his attention back to me. “Are you a virgin?”

His lack of answer told me enough. He blushed impossibly deeper, and started squirming in place. Just as he was about to speak up for himself I stopped him with, “That’s so fucking hot.”

“What?”

I climbed back up his body, just far enough so that I could grab his jaw in my hand and pull him down to meet my lips. It was even more hungry and passionate than the previous ones we shared, full of such fire I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to kiss anyone else ever again.

“You’re so sexy,” I moaned, hot and needy into his mouth.

He was good, which wasn’t unexpected from my end. His lips were always so plump and pink, they just had to be semi skilled.

“Thank you,” he replied, in a typical Spencer Reid fashion.

“Do you want to stop? Or keep going? Take a minute and think about it. I don’t want to pressure you,” I reassured him, but on the inside I was begging for him to want to continue.

He pulled back for a second, running a hand over the back of my head to keep me from going too far. His eyes were closed, focusing only on his breathing as he thought about his answer.

“I want to keep going. Please,” he decided on, nodding his head. “I just, I dunno, didn’t expect to get this far tonight.”

“Believe me, neither did I,” I smirked, smashing my lips back against his and returning to my spot kneeling between his legs. I pushed him back harder than before, sending a small oof sound from his chest as his back hit the mattress.

“Has anyone ever touched you here?” I asked, finally wrapping my hand around his dick,

It only made sense that a pretty boy like him would have a pretty cock, too.

“O-only once,” he breathed, with his head thrown back. He was staring at the ceiling, staring at the dots to distract himself from the feeling and to not come too soon. “Long time ago.”

“If you need me to stop, tell me,” I said, before licking a broad strip up the underside of his dick.

I paused at the head, swirling my tongue around before continuing my mission back down around the other side. I kissed his base, leaving more near his hips. He whined positively -- probably feeling a little ticklish -- and I took that as a good sign to suck a deep purple mark there.

Just like I’d thought about doing months ago.

I left a few more just up to his belly button, marking him up with the intent to claim him as my own. He’d see those marks for the next few days, and every time he would think of me on my knees for him. I kept pumping him in my hand as I did so, and every time I groaned into his skin his dick twitched with appreciation.

“Oh god,” Spencer moaned as I took him into my mouth unexpectedly, bunching up the sheets in his hands beside his hips.

I looked up to see him now staring down at me, jaw slacked and panting heavily. The sight was enough to elicit a moan from my own mouth, which led to him fluttering his eyes shut at the vibrations that shot through his body.

“Stop, stop!”

“What’s wrong?” I asked worriedly, immediately pulling up.

“Nothing, I just really want to feel you and I don’t think I can last much longer.”

Understandable.

I wasn’t expecting him to last long anyways, I just simply wanted him inside me.

“Do you happen to have a condom?” He shook his head. “I’m clean and on the pill. We should be fine. Is that okay?”

He mumbled an ‘uh huh’ as he watched me stand up, as I pushed my underwear down my legs. He immediately reached out to me, bringing me back in and starting placing kisses across my stomach and hips, mirroring what I was doing to him earlier.

“Good, because if you don’t fuck me right now I think I might die.”

‘Yeah-yeah, oh-whoa-whoa (oh, ooh, mmm)

Baby, I need to know, mmm (yeah, need to know)’

He laughed lightheartedly, fixing himself to be sitting up near the headboard. In the process he kicked off his boxers fully, along with his socks.

I followed after him, not letting him stray too far from my reach.

“I heard that women take longer to, erm, get ready,” he muttered into my skin, hiding his face in my neck. “Let me help you?”

“Please,” I whimpered, though I knew I was far from unprepared. I reached behind myself to unclasp my bra, and as soon as it fell down my shoulders Spencer attached his mouth to my left nipple. “Please touch me.”

He moaned into me, bringing his hand down to my core to run his fingers through my folds. He let his middle breach me, moving so agonizingly slow before curling his finger up. I moaned loudly, letting my eyes shut and body fall slack against him. His free arm wrapped around my waist, giving me the support I needed to stay upright.

“So that’s your g-spot?” He grinned against my skin, and I’d be damned to admit it affected me way more than it should have. He sounded so innocent, so eager to learn.

“Uh-huh.”

He explored my skin greedily, brushing over every inch of my chest he could reach. His thrusts became faster every time he re-entered me, encouraged by the grunt that fell from my lips with each one.

“Have you ever done this with a girl before?”

“No,” he replied, moving from my breasts to my collarbone, leaving a dark purple mark in his path.

“Could've fooled me,” I felt him smile against my neck at the praise -- duly noted.

He flipped us over swiftly -- much to my surprise -- and continued with his actions on both my clit and entrance. I did my best to stay quiet, biting down on his shoulder to prevent any noises from leaking out to stop him from getting too cocky.

“Spencer,” I moaned, raking my fingernails up and down his back. “Stop. Please fuck me now, I’m ready.”

“Are you sure you want to? We can stop,” he reassured me in a voice that seemed far too innocent for the activities taking place.

“Spencer, I’m sure. I’m so fucking sure you have no idea.”

I was so turned on I could cry, the pure want running through my veins was starting to send panic signals throughout my whole body. Before I could beg him any further he replaced his fingers with his dick, catching me off guard. He ran the tip over me for a few seconds before gliding in easily, with little to no restriction at all.

“Ah!” I called, gripping onto his shoulder for dear life.

“I’m so sorry, oh my god did I hurt you?” Spencer asked frantically, removing his weight from me and tried sitting up.

“No. God please move, I need you so bad,” I pleaded, pulling him back down before he could get too far away.

He nodded. He started slow. So slowly that I wanted to scream and beg at the top of my lungs for more. However I was above giving him the satisfaction of that -- at least for now.

“You feel so good,” Spencer panted, hips shaking as he slid in and out at a torturous pace.

I pulled his lips back to mine for another kiss, drinking in everything he was willing to offer. I whined every time his body rubbed against my clit in a way that had my toes curling and eyes rolling back.

“This is so much better than I’ve imagined,” I moaned, breaking free from his mouth to lay back against the pillows. I wrapped my legs around his waist, aiding him with the speed of his thrusts. “Please, Spence, oh my god go harder.”

He moaned loudly, and lowered his head to my collarbone in an effort to muffle some of the noises he was letting out.

He followed my directions well -- and I took notes for the future.

The sounds of him bouncing off the walls was amplifying my pleasure to a new degree, it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. His hips snapped forward impossibly faster, leaving him a whimpering mess above me. Our chests were pressed together, the sound of skin slapping and gliding over each other filled the dimly lit room.

“You’re doing so good for me,” I whispered into his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses here and there.

He moaned freely at all of the praise, and every time I urged him on he’d pick up his speed a little bit. He was now moving faster than I thought I could handle, slamming into me at the perfect angle.

I felt him everywhere. In my stomach, insides of my thighs, chest -- where he was now palming at one of my breasts -- and the crook of my neck. I hugged my arms around his middle to keep him locked against me, preventing his hips from heavily backing out.

“I’m really close,” He groaned, lifting his head to meet my eyes. “S-should I pull out now?”

“No,” I demanded, tightening my legs to keep him trapped. “Come inside me.”

He nodded with a particularly loud moan, and snaked one hand down my body to meet my clit. When I gave a sound of approval he quickened his wrist, rubbing me with just the right amount of pressure to send me closer to the edge.

He came with a final shout in my name, resting his full body weight against me as I rocked my him against him to help him through it. I finished soon after, at the feeling of him releasing himself in me. It was so warm, like a comforting blanket that overtook all of my senses.

It was possibly the best orgasm I’d ever had, it was so profound that I couldn’t see, or focus on anything else.

We laid there for a few minutes, my hand running through his hair and his ghosting up the side of my hip. It took a while for us both to catch our breaths, we were too immersed in the moment to break apart from one another.

“That was literally the best sex I’ve had in my life,” I breathed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Same, but I don’t have anything to compare it to,” Spencer replied, and we both laughed weakly.

“That was okay for you? Your first time? Not really the traditional approach.”

“It was perfect. I wouldn’t have asked for anything different,” he pulled himself up with a smile, before pulling out and flopping down beside me.

“But seriously,” I sat up, resting my head on my palm to get a better view of him. “I’ve never been so attracted to someone as I am with you.”

“____,” he blushed. “I-”

“No! No, let me finish. Please.”

He nodded for me to go ahead.

“Not only are you just insanely sweet and so charming, you’re so handsome. Like I can hardly even look at you half the time. You drive me insane, Spencer you have no idea. Holy fuck I’ve never wanted someone so bad before I met you. You’re intoxicating. I can’t get enough. I’ll cringe about this later but I just need you to know.”

“This may not be the most common way...but do you want to go out with me? L-like on a date?” Spencer asked. He was blushing so heavily, his chest was painted pink and ears were turned red.

“You just came inside of me and you’re nervous about asking me on a date.”

“____!” Spencer exclaimed, facepalming himself.

“Yes,” I grinned. “I’d love to go out with you.”

-----

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hopeshoodie · 3 years ago

Note

How come you don't like lottie and graham

It’s probably mostly the whole ‘the worst sin a fictional character can commit is being annoying’ thing. I personally don’t vibe with the ‘petty with very little introspection woman’ and ‘brusque standoffish arrogant man’ personality types.

But more than that-

Lottie

Lottie in the first couple weeks of the game is absolutely intolerable. She's catty, rude, childish, and just generally mean to people around her. The girl code fixation is just an excuse to demand all the girls treat her like the main character without being critical of her own actions

She's incredibly selfish. She uses other people's things, makes messes, but then gets mad if people try to borrow her things.

She gets upset when people don't come to her with gossip, but is incredibly condescending to other people (rolling her eyes, making comments to Gary in group settings). I hate how she makes Operation Nope about 'poor me no one likes me'.

Even in late game?? She's still rolling her eyes and making sarcastic comments about Hope and Marisol, girls who at this point might be her friends.

Multiple characters TELL us in late game how much Lottie has changed, but like can someone give me a demonstrable example of her being changed? Like yes she saved Noah, but she had no other options that personally benefitted her. Yes she’s in less screaming matches, but tell me that isn’t just because she has the guy she wants. Graham Is rude/uninterested in MC during the speed dating and only asks after Marisol, then through the rest of CA he makes it clear that he has no interest in making friends/acquaintances with women he’s not sexually attracted to.

Him being testy about boat puns makes sense, but he's overly aggressive about stating in and enforcing other people not make them (and then later makes them himself??). Like he assumes people should already know that and snaps at them when telling them for the first time. I'm all for setting boundaries, but he just doesn't go about it in a considerate way.

Is the most aggressive about bullying Felix. Kassam has more of a reason to dislike Felix, but Graham’s always the one making comments, rolling his eyes, and yelling at Felix.

Hates the sound of morning doves (sin)

His rivalry with Gary is dumb. I dislike Gary for it too, but the 'thing I like is better than thing you like!' and being condescending towards Gary sucks. He also is the first one to try to instigate physical violence, telling Gary to hit him.

The sex dungeon in the pillow fort thing /really/ bothers me. I totally get that it’s funny to flirt/make jokes by alluding to BDSM and I’m fine with that. But the way Graham talks about it makes me SO uncomfortable. First, him consistently saying it to people he doesn't know well makes me think he uses it as a personality trait, which RED FLAG. Where it's more about being 'the guy who's a dom' instead of just... Enjoying BDSM for its own sake. Second, I’m sorry but if you’re conventionally attractive you’re not good at BDSM. Only people who look like absolute nerds/dweebs are good at BDSM. Third, and most importantly, he disregards consent. He doesn’t just joke about making a sex dungeon in the communal blanket fort, he grabs rope and is genuinely disappointed/annoyed that people tell him to knock it off. People react with discomfort, and that in and of itself isn't enough to get him to stop. This man was what? Going to rig up Marisol? In front of god and everybody?

When MC is on a Marisol route, Graham is shitty. Not just shitty in a 'this girl I like is being stolen away from me' way, but in a misogynistic homophobic way. He says that Marisol needs a "man like him" and then seems to undermine the legitimacy of MC and Marisol's relationship. He gets really nasty towards MC once Marisol chooses to switch, and it's just... Yuck.

#final queue #litg

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atozfic · 4 years ago

Text

reaction: meeting pirate!ateez

pairing: ateez x gn!reader.

warnings. misogyny, s*xual harassment, violence, kidnapping, blood, death, mentions of capital punishment (h*nging), mentions of the military, hongjoong's is lowkey a spoiler for my upcoming fic named siren, angst, fluff.

word count. 5.6k

hyde's input. this is completely triggered by the kingdom stage, i’m not even sorry.

park seonghwa.

the drunker customers had always been the worst, in your eyes. sure, they usually spent large sums of coins, fuelling your salary and guaranteeing you’d have the capability to keep the roof over your head another month, but they were also the loudest, rowdiest, rudest within the hovel of a tavern. with little care for the other patrons, and no respect towards the poor serving wenches tasked with bringing them round after round of ale. you’d done well to avoid them most of that evening, sending over your co-worker, who was stronger and larger by every sense of the word, a person even those senseless drunks took one look at and knew not to mess with them. but they’d left early, the news of an important family matter dragging them out the doors, leaving you alone and with no other choice but to serve the rowdy crew in the corner, who were already yelling over the sounds of their own laughter as you approached.

“well well, boys, look what we have here! a little bird!” the man to your right must have failed to notice the grimace on your face as his arm snuck around your waist, or he noticed and simply didn’t care. the second choice sounded far more likely.

“wonder if we can get the little birdie to sing us a song!” another among the group of drunkards chimed in, sat to the left of you. “one night with me and you’ll be singing for the rest of the week.”

the whole group had their eyes fixated on you by that point, leaning in to smile at you with their crooked teeth and sweat stained clothes, scanning over your figure like you were a rack of lamb and them a pack of starved wolves.

“one night? pathetic.” the first man laughed out, hand squeezing around you tighter, trying his best to drag you down into his lap and do god-knows what to you. “one finger, birdie, and i’ll have you singing till the day you die.”

shaking your head, and plastering on the fakest smile you could, you tried your best to remove the arm from around you. any sudden movement could will them to pounce, you needed to get away from their predatory eyes as quickly and smoothly as possible. “no, thank you. i’m engaged, unfortunately. but thank you for the offers, kind sirs.”

“what he doesn’t know, won’t kill him.” the man to your left flashed, what you imagine he considered, a charming smile. his own arm reached up, crossing over the one already laying along your waist. the other drunks nodded in agreement, moving in closer till you were sure you’d wind up drunk from the stench of their breaths alone. “besides, i don’t see him anywhere. if he didn’t want people playing with his toys, he shouldn’t have left them out the box.”

you were doomed.

“if you don’t want to lose that hand of yours, i suggest you remove it from my fiancé.” a voice spoke out from behind you, eerily calm for someone who’d just dished out a threat to a group of several men.

“oh, really? you hear that, lads?” the one on the right laughed, his hand slipping lower and copping a feel at your backside before landing a smack against it. “pretty boy thinks he’s all tough. bet you wouldn’t know how to use that sword of yours, even if you wanted to. now piss off and comeback when me and your little fiancé are done having- bastard!”

in a flash, the hands groping your body were gone and the group were scrambling out of their seats. the man on the right clasped the now bleeding stump up to his chest, a pitiful squeak coming from him as you saw a hand shoot out from behind you, grabbing onto the fabric of his shirt. “come anywhere near this tavern again, i’ll gauge your eyes out and feed them to the sharks.”

you remained silent for a few minutes, too shaken to move until you were sure the men were long gone and nowhere lingering in the darkness. a hand landed on your shoulder, retracting as you flinched at the sudden touch. finally finding the strength, you turned around and came face to face with your saviour. he was pretty, and not in the degrading way those men had meant. tall and welt built, with one hand whipping the blood off of his sword onto his trousers before slipping it back into its sheath.

“thank you.” the whisper in your own voice shocked you as you attempted to relay your gratitude to the stranger, who looked down on you in disinterest and shrugged like it was no big deal. however, when his own hand clasped yours and placed a cold object into it, it seemed to contradict his nonchalant demeanour.

“use that next time. men like that don’t care much for a person’s marital status.” with that, the stranger spun on his heel and made his way out into the night, leaving you with two questions: who the hell was he and why had he gifted you such an expensive looking dagger?

kim hongjoong.

for the first time since your journey had begun, sleep was peaceful.

there were no nightmares of the royal court telling you over and over how you were to be married come the first day of summer, or your father criticizing every part of your persona, or the image of your soon-to-be-husband and his unknown face, capturing you in his iron grasp and torturing you much like he done to his other pets that didn’t behave accordingly. no, this sleep was nothing short of perfect. dreams of walking on the softest clouds, of holding hands with an angel and dancing beneath the star-stained skies, of living happily in the middle of nowhere. everything was warm, warm, warm...

cold.

you woke with a gasp, water running down your face and your arms aching to reach up and wipe it out of your eyes, only to find themselves against some sort of wooden beam. the harder you pulled against it, the more the rope dug into your fragile skin, burning a rash into it.

“excuse the wet interruption but, well, you were taking too long to wake up and our captain’s an impatient guy.” the man before you, bearing a bucket in his arms and the brattiest of smiles on his face greeted you, starring down at where you were sat on the floor of the deck. there was no doubt about it, you were aboard a ship with what you could only hope were not sailors eager to earn the reward for catching and returning you to the royals.

“where am i?” you croaked out a reply. your throat burned, begging for some water. the sun was beaming down, giving the boy above you a halo-esque glow around his head. perhaps this was the angel you’d held in your dreams. though, the sword strapped to his side and the scar running down his neck and under the shirt he wore made you doubt it.

“technically, you’re somewhere in the middle of the south atlantic ocean.” another boy approached, hair the strangest shade of purple and a far more warm-hearted smile on his face. “literally? you’re on board the aurora. isn’t she a beauty?”

“uh, i guess?” there wasn’t much to view of the ship, what with your body strapped to a mast and the two boys blocking the view behind them.

“you’re awake? perfect.” a new voice entered the mix, forcing both the boys in front of you to slide out of the way and clear a path for the new arrival. though the man was shorter than the other two, something about the way their eyes stared at him with utmost respect told you he was by no means lesser. “and i see that san and wooyoung wasted no time in making your acquaintance. forgive them, they’ve been... interested to speak with you since finding you washed up on that island.”

“it’s fine. probably owe them a thanks for saving my life. i don’t remember much from the wreckage, never mind washing up on any island.” the small talk was all fun and nice but you were itching to be set loose, the nerves bubbling up in your throat at the possibility that these men were foes and not friends.

“i’m hongjoong, captain of the aurora and of the ateez crew.” the more he smiled, the more unnerved you became. there was something twisted about the way his lips curled up, the way his eyes seemed to glimmer with secrets under the harsh sun.

you opted against giving your name, fearful of the danger it would land you in. your best bet was to remain anonymous, an unknown entity under the watchful eyes of these strangers.

“now that we’re all acquainted,” the man paused, smiling off to the side at the two other men who returned a knowing look before his head whipped back to where you sat, smile dropped from his face and his sword pointing at your throat. one tiny slip forward and it would split your windpipe. “who are you and why do you bare the royal sigil of the kim empire?”

jeong yunho.

the sound of swords smashing against each other, of lives being taken and of bodies tumbling overboard died out gradually. it was clear to see, like always, who the victorious had been in the battle between the ships.

in defence of his crewmates, yunho would justify this attack with the fact that they had not initiated it. the growing reputation of the aurora was something out of their control. they’d become an urban legend of sorts, a crew notoriously not to be messed with. this made them a prime target for the big-headed, overly confident fools they shared the ocean with. their flag was easy to recognise and their boat even more so, they were a bullseye floating on water.

just like every other before, the now deceased men who manned the enemy ship had stalked them, hunting them down in the middle of the mighty waters to begin their attack. their mistake was assuming that, because it was night, the boys were sleeping and unaware of the strangers boarding their ship. defeating them was the easy part, the hard part came afterwards.

the usual three men of the small crew landed confidently onboard the enemy ship, weapons firmly grasped in hand before devising up who would check what. like always, jongho opted for the deck and mingi announced he’d be checking the captain’s quarters, leaving yunho with no choice than to head down into the forecastle. he didn’t mind one bit, there was usually less of value for him to raid down there, making his job easier.

amid rummaging his way through countless rags and useless cheap metals, yunho became alert at a particular sound. living on edge through most of his childhood had taught him to pay attention to the little things, to listen for what most people would overlook. remaining as still as possible, his suspicions were confirmed.

someone, or something, was breathing in the room with him.

with one hand on the handle of his weapon, the other gripped the lid of a barrel, ripping it back with no hesitation only to be left speechless and confused. he’d expected to find a coward, a traitor to the crew they’d just finished ridding the world of. someone who’d ran from a fight and thought they could hide long enough to survive.

he wasn’t expecting to find you there, rope around your wrists, a gag in your mouth and the look of pure terror in your eyes. this was a problem.

a big one.

he knew it was none of his business, you were none of his business. he owed you nothing. protocol, and that voice in his head that reminded him so much of his short-tempered captain, told him to turn away. to put the lid back on and leave you where he found you, just another useless object in the room. but he knew what was going to happen to this ship the second jongho got done splashing the wooden deck with cheap liquor, how it would light the sky up in flames the minute him and his two crewmate left. something about letting someone so helpless looking as yourself burn in the ashes didn’t sit right with him.

so he kicked the barrel over, grimacing at the groan of pain he heard you release. he should have been more gentle but it wasn’t in his nature. his instinct told him to be quiet and, so, silence made itself comfortable between you both. silence when he cut the ties on your wrist, silence when he helped remove your gag, silence when he brought you back up onto the deck, one arm thrown over his shoulder while you limped forward.

“i know we’re not exactly the poster boys for morality but, really, yunho?” he noticed how you flinched at the sound of mingi’s booming voice, your hand gripping him a little tighter. the whole display fascinated him, watching someone else depend on him, even if it was down to a lack of options. “human-trafficking? i thought we were at least above that!”

“shut up. i found them down in a barrel, appears to be a prisoner of some sort.” yunho met your desperate eyes, his own rigid body aching to relax against yours. he was tired, muscles aching from combat and it had been so long since he’d been so close to someone other than his seven sea-brothers. “am i right?”

you nodded meekly. yunho wished he’d heard you speak.

“great to meet you and all but, yunho, c’mon. hongjoong would never allow this, much less seonghwa.” it was jongho who’d now chimed in, stating the obvious. their crew had only made it so far with their trust and their bond, strangers were never a welcomed addition to their team, even if it left them a few hands short of the average ship.

luckily, yunho had no intention of having you join them. “i know, but we can’t leave a prisoner to burn with a ship they had no business with. hongjoong will agree to letting them onboard till our next stop, where we can all go our separate ways. as for hwa, i can deal with him myself.”

it was that simple, apparently, and within under half an hour you found yourself with no idea where you were heading, who you were with or if you could trust them but, for the time being, you were wrapped in a clean blanket, food was in your hand while your eyes stared out at the burning ship you’d been imprisoned on for months, and that seemed better than nothing.

kang yeosang.

with each step he took along the familiar cobbled streets, the bile was rising in his throat. it burned, begging for him to bend over and wretch all over the floor. nostalgia was infecting him, everywhere he looked reminding him of another time in history where he’d lived on land and not the sea. where he’d been the mayor’s son, wildly in love with the baker’s own child. where he’d had plans of marrying in the meadow behind his house, a home to raise his own children alongside the love of his life.

that boy died the day his father was murdered, blood spilling onto the street as on-lookers did nothing to stop the carnage. he’d tried vengeance at first, seeking out his father’s murderer with the plans of putting their child through the same loss he was experiencing. but he couldn’t do that to the baker’s child.

he couldn’t do that to you.

so, he ran like a coward. slipped out your window one night, believing it would be easier to say goodbye if he never truly said it, if all he left you with was a lingering kiss on your forehead.

somewhere along his journey, amid the countless nights of no sleep as he wondered how you were, if you hated him, how long it would take for you to move on, yeosang stumbled upon a band of misfits, speaking lunacy of stealing a ship from a crew of militants and setting assail along the sea.

naturally, he’d joined in on the plan in a heartbeat.

but life had brought him back to that tiny island he’d once called home, the need to hunt down some ancient jewel at the order of the ship’s captain and his leading lady taking precedence over yeosang’s avoidance of the mass of land.

three nights passed since their ship had docked. yeosang had walked the entire village over and over in that time and, while hongjoong believed he’d been failing at finding the jewel, yeosang was actually failing at finding you. he’d become comfortably numb to the thought you’d left.

it was selfish of him to think you’d be waiting for him all this time. you deserved to go out and live life to the fullest, to fall in love with someone unafraid to hold you in your darkest hour and to be held by you in theirs.

the sickly scent of sticky honey and sweet syrup had the pit of yeosang’s stomach dropping with dread, eyes darting up to find the place his feet had carried him against his will. that damned bakery, with it’s usual dark green exterior and the beaten sign out front. nothing had changed about the place but everything had changed about yeosang.

except for his love for you.

he just about lost balance at the sudden collision that crashed against his lower leg, the unmistakable sound of a child’s laughter floating in the air and bringing the pirate’s attention down to the dark haired boy, who’d landed on his bottom half after crashing against yeosang’s leg. if he’d had the instinct of a father, perhaps yeosang would’ve been able to tell whether or not the child was truly hurt but all he could go off of was the nonstop laughter coming from the boy.

“chinhae!” a voice rang out behind him, who yeosang could only assume was the boy’s parent. his hand reached down, which the boy happily took and allowed himself to be pulled back onto his feet. “i’m so sorry, he’s reaching that age where mischief is the only fun. chinhae, what do you say to the- yeosang?”

you were just as beautiful as the day he’d left you in that bed, despite the coldness in you stare and the step back you took from him, the young boy pressed back against you.

the bile quickly returned to yeosang’s throat. the thought of you with someone else had been easy, but the image of it was heartbreakingly painful, the child at your side a visual representation of how little you wanted him anymore and a reminder of how badly he still needed you.

“long time no see...?” even he couldn’t believe his own words, knowing it was far less from what you deserved. “i see you’ve moved on well.”

“was i not supposed to?” you snapped, the anger you clearly still felt for him burning behind your eyes. “i don’t remember you doing anything to stop me from moving on. in fact, you weren’t even here.”

“no.” he cleared his throat, swallowing the lump in it. “you were supposed to live on, to move on.”

“good, so glad to have the approval of kang yeosang.”

as yeosang stumbled back onto the aurora that night, drunk as a fool and dreaming of another world where he could have you by his side, he’d never understand how much easier it had been for you to lie to him than to tell him the truth.

choi san.

everything about the display was pure barbaric.

the crowd of people chanting like wild animals, eyes eager to witness a life be taken. the officers guarding the wooden podium where the twisted spectacle was scheduled to take place, each one of them knowing fine well the man they had in shackles was not guilty of the brutal murders they had pinned on him. the lone noose dangling, freshly tied and awaiting the young neck of the sacrificial lamb, the young man’s eyes filled with determination as he stared at his condemned fate.

the pirate was guilty of many things, yes, but the murder of an innocent family? no. he may not live by the law but he and his brothers lived by their own code. besides, he’d not arrived at the dock until four days after the slayings, it was physically impossible for him to be guilty.

it was all an elaborate cover up, a ploy to protect rather than punish the real murderer. the town was small and people liked to gossip, it hadn’t taken long for the rumours to spread of who the real perpetrator was. an officer in the military, their boat having been docked at the port for the past few weeks now. there was no chance they’d throw their own under the bus for the crime, that’s where the unlucky pirate came into the picture. he’d been easily identified by the militants, cornered and apprehended for petty crimes before they loaded on the claims of how he’d killed a mother and her two sons in cold blood. the townsfolk didn’t care much for the truth, the drama and spectacle of the public execution mattered more to them than who’s life exactly was being taken.

with each minute that passed, your eyes focused on the way the pirate scanned his surroundings, as if his mind were running at a thousand miles an hour to map out the area and find his best exit. to even attempt to escape was dangerous in the first place but, with so many people around him begging to see him killed, there was no way he’d get away.

not without a distraction.

in only a moment, you’d throw away the years of being the perfect person. grooming and prepping yourself to greet the world everyday with a smile, even through moments of pain, would have all be for nothing. forgotten and tossed out a metaphorical window as your hand threw the literal brick at one of the officers, ducking into the manic crowd before you could see it impact and smash to pieces against his shoulder.

pushing, shoving and forcing your way past people was the easiest part, your eyes landing on the pirate fighting off another officer with a punch to the jaw, his shackles now dangling from one wrist and his eyes lit up with new found adrenaline.

the hardest part was when the angry mob recognised you, screaming out that you were the one who’d ruined the event, who’d set their prisoner free to escape and find safety. then came the chasing, through an unimaginable amount of streets. your feet had never worked so hard to kick off the ground, the impact sending jolts of pain up your ankle that you had no time to care about.

you felt yourself being grabbed, whole body dragged into the door of a dark building and slammed against it as it shut again. if it weren’t for the hand against your mouth and the familiar cat-like eyes of the pirate, you’d have screamed in terror.

“you realize this makes you an accomplice, right?” he whispered in your ear as a stampede of people ran past you, leaving you with nothing but the dark haired stranger and the limited space between you two.

song mingi.

at some point, you'd given up on trying to shield your head from the rain.

it seemed futile with the size of the storm above, ripping through the sky and lighting it up in shades electric blues, yellows, whites. if there were a god, she seemed angry.

the clothes on your body had begun to stick to you like a second skin. the cold had long infiltrated the fabric of your outfit, a constant shiver running up and down your spine, goosebumps licking your skin and your lips bruising in a pale purple. but you were almost home, there was no point stopping now, no matter how much your aching muscles wanted to sit down.

tightening your grip on your bag, your legs carried your through puddles and streams of rain water. the only positive spin you could put on the whole situation was the wonders the rain would be doing for your crops, keeping them well watered. after the drought of the past year, you could not afford to go another season without any growth in the garden. it would kill you, leave you having to give up your childhood home. the job down at the infirmary didn’t pay enough to cover your costs, you relied on being able to set up your small but popular stall every week down at the market.

something in the distance halted your movement. a figure, dark and hunched over, a shape you couldn’t quite make out in the black of the night. with caution, you began the ascent up the path to your quaint home, all the while your mind raced at a hundred miles an hour, hand slipping into your pocket to take a grasp of the single barrel gun your father had left behind in his passing. the object felt dirty and heavy in your hand. this feeling only grew as your eyes fully took in the sight before you.

“oh my gosh, are you okay?” you dived forward in a hurry, all previous caution dissipating when you scanned over the injured man. his face was all bloodied up and he seemed to be teetering in and out of consciousness.

with great effort, you managed to get the man inside your house, helping him all the way over to your small couch and dropping him onto it, apologising when he let out a pained hiss. the fire was lit and you filled a basin with warm water, soaking a rag before wiping at the man’s face, doing your utmost best to not linger too long on his striking features. the injuries on his face were nothing compared to the sight of what was under his bloodied shirt, the wound serving as the ghost of whatever blade had stabbed him.

“what’s your name?” panicked, you done your best to keep the man talking as your hand whipped away the blood on his torso, urgently needing to see the extent of his cut. you needed to keep him awake, conscious. there was no way you’d be able to cope with someone dying on your couch.

“mingi.” he rasped out, moments before his eyes rolled back and his eyelids gave into the heavy feeling, shutting down with the rest of his body and slipping into a forgiving sleep.

jung wooyoung.

your lover was an early riser.

in the time you both had spent together, you’d grown used to the feeling of waking up alone in a cold bed. at first, it had worried you. your own insecurities and a past of men using you mercilessly lead you to believe he’d simply left, content with having claimed the only thing he desired from you.

but you always found him sitting on your porch, staring out at the world and enjoying the peace of the early morning hours. he’d tell you every day about the beautiful sunrise, painting your mind with hues of orange before pulling you in for a passionate kiss, hands tugging you back into his arms, back into the bed you’d grown to share.

this morning, there was no sign of your lover. no sound of him wishing you good morning, of him laughing to himself out on the porch, of him sighing your name in waves of pleasure.

all that you could find was a letter addressed to your name, left on his usual spot for watching the sunrise.

my lovely stardust,

i write this with a heavy heart. you’ll never understand how badly i would love to lay next to you each morning and watch the sun set the sky ablaze. to trace your skin everyday would be sweeter than any cake and better than any heaven the gods may try to offer me. but, i’m afraid i’m not the good man you think me to be

i’m a liar. when we first met, you were nothing of importance to me, it made lying to you easier. spilling out falsehoods of how i was a member of the navy was fun, seeing you be fooled was exciting. overtime, however, it grew painful. love blossomed in my heart, the way a flower blossoms in spring: quickly, vividly, in the brightest of colours. lying to you went from being a game to being torture, ripping my heart to pieces every time i had to hide the truth from you. but my time has ran out, darling, and it’s time i face the violent music.

i’m a pirate, so i didn’t completely lie. i do sail upon a ship. when i docked here, i was ill. my body could not withhold the harsh winter out at sea, it needed warmth, safety, a place to call home. how privileged of it to find you. but now, spring has arrived and my body has healed. the sea, she calls to me, yearns for me to return to her. my brothers need me, though they’d never admit it. my love, tying myself down to you is something i could do in an instant, with no hesitation. tying myself down on land though, that is something i can not do. i need the cruel sea as much as she needs me.

i know you’re angry. i know you’ve thought of burning this note four times, without having even finished it yet. god, i hope you finish it. please. i’m sorry i was dishonest, and for not being man enough to say this all to your face. i couldn’t risk our last memories together being sour. any love i gave you was never a lie, you have to know that.

when two moon cycles have been completed, my ship will be passing by the dock. if, after all this and some time to think to yourself, you could still have me, hold me, love me... meet me there. runaway with me and the sea. i promise you’ll never regret the beauty of watching the sunrise over the top of the ocean.

your eternal pirate,

wooyoung.

choi jongho.

there were times that jongho cursed being the youngest in the crew. they were all fairly close in age and, usually, payed no attention to hierarchy between them all. as far as the ateez crewmates were aware, they were all each other’s equals.

that equality was forgotten about when it came to disembarking.

for months, when their voyages had first began, they’d all fight for the right to touch dryland. all eight of them competitive, it became a regular occurrence for a friendly brawl to break out between them all in the fight to avoid being left behind to guard the vessel. until wooyoung, with his high-pitched laughter, proclaimed that jongho should be the one to stay behind, seeing as he was the youngest among them after all.

it had taken two weeks for the smaller boy’s black eye to fade.

“i’ll be back before sunset to take over for you,” seonghwa, the oldest and oddly most caring among the brothers, said as the rest of the members made their way down onto the dock, each patting jongho on the shoulder as they passed. “that gives you time to get whatever supplies you need before the shops shut at sundown.”

jongho knew the routine by that point. he let a sigh leave his lips, focusing his attention on giving the deck a scrub, making use of his free time and the burning hot sun above him that promised to dry up whatever he cleaned. in no time, he’d broken a sweat and found himself slipping his dress shirt over his head, leaving him in the sleeveless t-shirt underneath.

temptation rose with the heat before jongho headed below deck, doing his best to find a drink of water or rum, anything would do so long as it cured his dehydration. he couldn’t have been gone more than three minutes and, still, he came back up to find a stranger, you, creeping their way around onboard, scanning for the first sign of valuable treasure.

you turned, finally coming face to face with the smiling pirate who was leaning against a mast, arms crossed over his chest as he sized you up. you were a harmless thing, nothing he couldn’t throw overboard in a matter of seconds.

“welcome on board the aurora, how can i help you?” his voice was laced in sarcasm, his only interest being in helping you find an exit. when you gave him no reply other than the nervous look on your face, jongho piped up again. “what, cat got your tongue?”

you seemed to cower in on yourself, like a child caught red-handed as they tried to steal from a cookie jar. rolling his eyes, he turned his back on you and clasped his hands around his mouth, yelling out the name of his captain. as much as he’d enjoy watching someone walk the plank on that fine afternoon, he lacked in authority.

a piercing pain ran up his leg as jongho toppled over, his feet swept from under him. he landed on his back, face staring up to find you, no longer looking quite so defenceless now thanks to the sword you pressed against his throat. one foot stood against his chest to support your weight when you leaned down. “thanks for the welcoming, but i’m afraid this is an ambush.”

#ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez reactions #ateez pirate au #pirate ateez

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superhero--imagines · 4 years ago

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Etsy Store Here l Ko-Fi l Commission Info

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here!/ Playlist Here!

* Alright so here are the facts as you know them

* Gojo’s a goddamn player and a homewrecker

* The boy probably has half of Tokyo after him

* Not that you can blame them, that pretty face had you fooled at first too

* The second fact, it that for whatever reason, Gojo Satoru has chosen to play house with a future hopeful sorcerer named Megumi Fushiguro

* Which, through forces outside your control, you have become involved with as well

* And the last fact, was that as soon as this no longer interested him or benefited him in any way, Gojo Satoru would abandon the situation entirely and act like it never happened

* So-

* “(Y/N/N), you look nice today, did you do something new with your hair?” Gojo sings

* - pray tell, why is the school prince is currently sitting on top of your desk, looking at you with those heart eyes

* “Oi what do you think you’re doing?” You ask, a vein threatening to pop on your forehead

* “I’m flirting with you~” he sings, only leaning closer with that all-too-pleased smile

* “I’m pretty sure this is bullying” you reply

* Ever since you’ve started pseudo-parenting Megumi and Tsumiki, Gojo’s been doing crap like this,

* Sometimes he tries to feed you at lunch,

* “Open wide (Y/N/N)~” He’ll sing as he holds out a piece of sushi towards you on some chopsticks

* Only for Megumi to eat it instead

* “Why do you look so sad papa, I thought you said I was your pride and joy”

* other times he’s holding doors open for you

* “Ah here let me-“

* You watch as he walks across from you and opens the door to a random void shrine

* You look at him before sighing and opening your own door to the library

* The other day you mentioned how you didn’t get to try the limited edition Sakura Pepsi and came back to your dorm with a bottle on your desk

* Which would be cute- if the bottle wasn’t half-empty with a note that he’d that said

* “Sorry, I got thirsty on the way back”

* Seriously he’s the worst- and yet,

* You turned away from Megumi and Gojo bickering, hoping he didn’t notice how flustered you were,

* you hid your laugh behind your hand as Gojo jogs to catch up with you, saying he was just trying to predict your needs-

* And you held the half-full bottle of Sakura Pepsi to your chest, keeping it on your window sill

* Because you love him-

* Even though you know he’s just doing all these things to entertain himself instead of out of genuine affection

* Even though these feeling will do nothing but hurt you

* You still love him

* He makes your life feel exciting and fun

* And more than that, underneath that moronic playboy exterior, is a gentle, lonely heart

* A heart that will run away as soon as it knows how you feel about it

* So you mask your budding feelings as best as you can

* Because the only thing you imagine is more painful than knowing your feelings won’t be returned-

* Is not having Gojo Satoru in your life at all

* So you do your best to pretend like nothing has changed

* You act just as indifferent as you always have-

* “Here-“ you push your dessert in Gojo’s direction. “You like sweets right?”

* His smile is so radiant you almost have to shield your eyes

* Well, mostly indifferent anyway

* Not that the self-absorbed moronic prince has seemed to notice anyway

* Too busy focusing on the scrumptious piece of cake in front of him

* Still Gojo isn’t one to be underestimated, he looks to you with a twinkle in his eyes

* “Let’s share it!”

* So far he’s tried twice to have an indirect kiss with you, and he’s missed twice

* He even threw away those chopsticks when Megumi ate that piece of sushi in frustration

* But you know what they say, third times the charm

* You look at Gojo with a raised eyebrow, gaze flicking between the cake and his face

* What, did he imbue some cursed energy so it would explode when you tried to take a bite

* “No thanks”

* Cue Gojo crying as he eats his cake

* He’s really been doing his best lately to earnestly pursue you

* But for some reason, you just don’t get it

* “I like you,” Gojo says as you’re walking side by side on your way back to the dorm after visiting Megumi

* You look back at him, and Gojo feels a blush start to fan across his face

* He finally did it! He finally confessed to you

* And his heart is drumming away in his chest

* You don’t seem to understand the monumental significance of what just occurred because what your mind heard was

* “I {really} like {teasing} you”

* You sigh, your heart skipped a beat, for a second you almost got your hopes up

* There’s no way lady killer Gojo Satoru would ever pick you to be one of his lovers, and if he did it would just be so you could be apart of his personal harem

* “Ok”

* And then you turn around and walk away

* Gojo can’t help but feel like this is retribution for all the times one of his romantic partners has said ‘I love you’

* And he responded with:

* “Why would you do that to yourself?”

* Or

* “Cool”

* At first he thinks it’s a straight-up rejection, but he figures out pretty fast that you just didn’t get it when you keep acting the same as you always have around him

* But don’t get it wrong babe, none of this deters Gojo in the slightest

* “Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask

* You’re both in the library, but only one of you is actually studying

* Gojo’s been staring at you with an oddly fixated gaze

* Honestly it’s got you feeling an uncomfortable heat spreading from your face to your neck

* “I’m not giving up you know”

* Giving up on what?!?

* What’s going on right now!!?

* But Gojo doesn’t offer any more insight choosing instead to finally bother reading the book in his hands

* What a weird guy

* You look down to your own book

* You feel the heat linger on your face and neck

* It’s because he’s always saying crap like that, that you’ve caught feelings for him

* Well whatever, everything fades right? Eventually, Gojo will probably lose interest in you-

* He’s part of a clan do you imagine they’ll find a nice girl from a respectable family for him to marry

* They’ll probably have a few kids who’ll be next in line to succeed him

* And by then he’ll be in such a prominent position that you’ll never see him again

* He’ll just be a memory

* Some boy you had a youthful unrequited love with

* The thought makes your heart clench but-

* “It’s for the best,” you tell yourself

* You’re going in completely opposite directions in life, you couldn’t possibly home for anything more than what you have

* After all your luck probably ran out the second you saw his face

* The most beautiful man you’ll ever see

* “I bet he would be one of those handsome grandpas when he gets older” you snort

* The kind that charms and flirts with young men and women just because he knows the effect he has on them.

* You still can’t believe you fell in love with someone like that

* “What a pain” you mumble to yourself, falling back on your bed

* You feel uncertain, afraid of the future even.

* Maybe a snack will help

* It’s the middle of the night, way past the time you were supposed to go to bed when you see him in the kitchen

* Great the last person you wanted to run into

* He’s just standing there in front of the fridge with the door open

* He hasn’t even turned around to say hi or anything

* “Oi Baka prince if you leave the door open like that every-“

* You stop mid-word, you only need one look at his face to know something is wrong

* It’s not all that uncommon for him to do something like this-

* See the thing is, Gojo knows he’s strong enough that he will get to choose when he dies- he’s not bound by the same pain the other sorcerers are, but-

* Well, he’s still going to die

* No matter how much he thinks he’s like god, no matter how powerful he is,

* He’s still going to die

* And growing up with the power he’s had and the mindset that he’s the strongest

* The realization can be pretty crippling

* He so afraid of the uncertainty that brings that most times he can’t move

* The worst part is it’s never when he’s actively thinking about death, or even when he’s on the job

* It’s always at times like this when he’s just woken up and is oddly hungry and he’ll remember

* “Oh, I’m going to die aren’t I?”

* And then it’s like he’s frozen solid

* What is it he usually tells the victims that enter his domain?

* “Funny how when you can do everything, you find you can’t do anything”

* Usually he manages to unfreeze after some unspecified amount of time, getting through it on his own

* But this time, when he finally escapes from the domain of his inner mind he’s covered in a layer of sweat just like always-

* But he’s not sure why he sprawled across the floor

* Not until his head shifts a little, only to see your face looming over him

* Omgomgomgomgomgomgomgomg

* He’s resting his head in your lap!!!

* Honestly this has been a fantasy of his for a while, to have his head in your lap while looking at the cherry blossoms, and you feed him chocolates and a gentle wind caresses your face

* BUT NOT LIKE THIS

* “Feeling better?” You ask

* Gojo thinks he might combust, he moves to sit up but winces

* He’s got the worst headache, these little episodes of his do typically end with a migraine

* Your hand feels nice and cold as it rests against his forehead

* “Rest a little longer, we’re not in any hurry”

* Aaaaand now he’s screaming on the inside again

* “Sorry about this” he mumbles, and you can’t help but smile

* It’s oddly endearing to see a shy Gojo Satoru

* “I bet your lovers would kill me if they saw knew you were showing me such a cute side” you’re half-joking when you say it, but you’re also half-serious

* It gives your Ego a little boost to know you’ve seen a side of him that most of his lovers probably haven’t

* You doubt the mighty Gojo Satoru ever allows himself to be this vulnerable, not even while he’s in the throes of passion

* So that same earnest look on his face startles you

* “I don’t have any other lovers”

* You snort

* “Sure, and I definitely didn’t steal Geto’s pudding that he was saving”

* “I’m being serious”

* Gojo sighs, here he is feeling awfully vulnerable and you still seem denser than a rock

* Do you think he would let anyone other than you see him like this

* “When are you going to realize that if it’s not you then it’s just no good?”

* Your heart is drumming in your ears, and you wonder if he can hear it

* Your mind is telling you to pull back, that this is way too good to be true, that this will only hurt you,

* You should get away while you still have a chance

* But instead something in you persists and you say:

* “Why do you think that is”

* Gojo’s hand reaches up, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger, those clear blue eyes looking straight into yours

* Your breath stutters in your chest

* You always have been weak for those eyes

* His pink lips curl up into a smile

* “Because I love you”

* And before you know what you’re doing your bending down, pressing your lips against his

* “I love you too”

Bonus:

* “You can see through it right?” You ask

* Gojo fidgets with the blindfold, honestly he was hoping for a much kinkier reason than replacing his scuffed sunglasses when you gave him the blindfold

* “It’s a little darker, but that’s not a bad thing.”

* His hair is out of his face too which is nice

* But-

* “What’s with the sudden gift?”

* It’s not exactly out of character for you to get the people you care about something, but this seems a little outside of your usual MO

* “I just felt like it” You mumble

* Now that his eyes are covered up you think he might attract a little less attention, and all his former flings probably won’t be able to recognize him

* Your eyes drift to his uniform, even in the gross pantsuit you can still tell he’s got a pretty nice body,

* But you’ll have to adjust

* Gojo sees right through your nonchalant answer, smiling that wolfish grin

* “Aw was my sweetie scared I was going to leave them?” He coos, moving ever so close

* You only turn away your face

* Gojo only grins wider

* “Honey~ you should know by now if it’s not you then I’m not interested” he sings in your ear

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru headcanon #gojo satoru reader insert #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen headcanon #jujutsu kaisen x reader #superhero--imagines

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xpeachesncream · 4 years ago

Text

bands | sixteen

[ series masterlist ]

summary: jeon jungkook has it all: the looks, the fame, the money, the women. being considered the sexiest man in the industry, he finds no complaints about the way his life is going nor does he find any reason to apologize for the way he approaches it. he is a force to be reckoned with - until he meets you.

pairing: stripper!reader x idol!jjk

genre: (18+) strip club/nightlife au, post grad au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 5.0k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, angst, anxiety, alcohol consumption, slight intoxication, physical abuse, slight verbal abuse, belittling, mentions of cuts/wounds but nothing too graphic, mentions of coke

tags: @brightcolorsoffendme @min-nicoleee @eggbutnotyolk @ra-mun-e @miinoongi @jimidol @ppeachyttae @thebeebi @bluesharksandfish @kooafraid @liriaus @thisartemisnevermisses @ggukkieland @preciouschimine @sunniejinnie @cypheruby @cyb3rbab3 @masterlists101 @awhnamjoon @redhedhoseok @wooya1224 @taeismydeath @jikookiekosmos @un2-verse @aynsx @wearenot7withu @knjeuphoria @bringitseijoh (closed!)

Jungkook laid on the dorm couch, legs sprawled out as he wore his hood and covered his face as much as possible. He shut his eyes, trying to make sense of the cryptic texts you had sent him.

"We shouldn't do this anymore."

"I can't do this, Jungkook."

"You don't deserve this."

"I'm only trouble."

"We aren't going to work."

He repeatedly called you, asking for an explanation, a way to help make things better because none of this should have been the reason for you to want to call it 'quits' like that. He asked for you to talk to him. He'd call and after two rings, it'd bring him straight to voicemail. It never failed. Indeed, there was much more to the text but he only fixated on a few lines, and those few lines seem to be circling his head time and time again with no sign of leaving him alone.

"I think I'm falling in too deep and I need to stop this while I can. You hear them, you hear the shit they say. I would never let them ruin you, I don't want them to. You deserve better. Maybe it's true that I don't fit into this."

It frustrates him, every single time. Where the hell did he go wrong? Why was there a sudden change? Something was off, and god forbid if his assumptions were right. But, everything was leading right back to it. The way you called in sick, the way you shut everyone out. The way you texted him these things, wouldn't pick up his calls just to tell him you're busy or whatever the hell it was. It didn't sound like you. It didn't seem like you at all.

All things led right back to the club. To Bigs. Where you felt high and mighty. Wanted. Like no one could ever hurt you the way they did outside of the club because they worshipped you in there. They knelt down to you. The way you were so fucking tough there. He knew this is where you would fall back if things got rough. He couldn't help but think that you had been forced into it though, because he knew you didn't give a shit about that anymore. Ah well, forced or not, it just felt so off. Unusual.

"Hey." Namjoon sits on the floor near Jungkook's head. "You good?" He asks even though he's fully aware he's not. Joon hates those people who ask if something's wrong when clearly, something is wrong — however, he wasn't really sure how else to open up this conversation without coming off too pushy or forward. Too insensitive, even.

"Nope."

"What's going on?" Jungkook sighs as he tries to lower his hood even more, although there's no more of his hood to lower. He keeps his hand on his face, trying his hardest to keep himself together.

"I don't know." Now, going back to earlier — everyone can tell Jungkook isn't happy. They've tried to butter him up and make him feel better even though they knew you were the only person who could truly make him happy again. They've tried to talk to him in one way or another, but they never forced him if he didn't want to. The only person that really hasn't said much was Jimin, and that also pisses him off because if he had anything to do with this, he will surely fuck him up for ruining his happiness.

"You hear from Y/N? She still sick? Does she need anything?"

"She's not sick."

"Hm?" Joon slightly turns back, confused.

"Something else is wrong."

"Like what?"

"She's not picking up my calls. Not answering my texts the way she normally does. When she does, it's super blunt or one worded."

"Maybe she's really not feeling well, or just caught up with things—"

"No, hyung. I know her, she always has her priorities straight. Even if she was sick, she wouldn't do this. She wouldn't go as far as to shutting her own brother out."

"Idol life too overwhelming? I get it." Jimin jokes as he walks into the kitchen, making Jungkook shoot his head up to glare at him.

"The fuck, can you not? I don't see why you feel the need to joke around right now."

"Jeez, sorry. I just thought I'd lighten up the mood somehow."

"Come on, dude." Namjoon looks at him with disappointment, Jimin only returning the gesture by rolling his eyes and walking away. "How can I help you?" Joon asks, returning his attention back to Jungkook.

"Maybe I was being selfish bringing her into all of this. These people— they're fucking mean, and she's already had her fair share of dealing with mean people. How am I supposed to protect her all while not feeling selfish about it?"

"You're not selfish, who told you that?"

"Jimin." That's like strike.. whatever to Namjoon at this point. Why the hell was Jimin being so fucking weird?

"Look, I know it's not easy in this industry. But I think what you can do is prove to her that you won't hurt her, especially with everyone around her doing nothing but hurting her. You need to show her that you're different from the rest of them, that she can fully trust you. If I were in her shoes, to be honest, it would be scary for me. You got a whole lot of shit going on in your life. You're expected to provide a lot, and on top of that, you haven't had the best reputation with women."

"Yeah, I hear you."

"Then, nothing else matters. You keep fighting for her if she really matters to you. Does she?"

"Of course she does, I mean, can't you tell? I've never been this way over someone." Joon nods.

"You sure as fuck haven't. It still catches me and the guys by surprise. But, I'm happy to see someone helping you become a better person. She's been nothing but genuinely sweet, and I know she already does a hell of a job taking care of you."

"She's— I don't know. She's become so important to me."

"I know she has, and I'm happy to hear that. I really am." Joon sighs. "So tell me, what can I do? I hate seeing you like this."

"Well, I'm sure as hell not allowed at the club. Bigs will do anything to get back at me for what I did to him. He won't hesitate."

"I won't let him. We won't. You really think she went back?" Jungkook nods.

"Positive. Something doesn't feel right. It feels weird. And I feel like she was egged into this. I don't like it one bit."

"Want me to go check out the club tonight?"

"Yeah, please?" Jungkook says. "But don't be too obvious. Bring Jin hyung or someone who could use a lap dance or two."

"Sooo Jin hyung?" They chuckle.

"Yeah, exactly."

"And if she's there?"

"Then I'm going straight to her tomorrow night. I just need to make sure I do this right because I don't want her or Kai to get hurt. I'll stay out there if I have to just to make sure she doesn't go back. What else do I have to do—" Jungkook pauses to stop himself because this clearly wasn't you. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Who the fuck made her do this?"

"Bigs, who else?"

"No, she wouldn't listen to just Bigs. He's definitely working with someone and using shit against her."

"Okay, let's just not assume the worst. I'll head there tonight and drag Jin hyung with me."

"Thanks hyung, I really appreciate it."

"No problem." Joon gently massages his shoulder before getting up from his spot to make his way back to his room.

All Jungkook can think about doing is sleeping more right now. He'll send the occasional text to check on Kai and see how he was doing, but they both worried too much about you and Jungkook would hate to tell him that you ended up going back to the club. He didn't think he would tell him, he didn't think he'd have to because he was gonna make sure to get you out of there before shit hit the roof again. If it hasn't already, and he's hoping it hasn't.

And so when Namjoon and Jin hyung [obviously in need of that lap dance or two] head out to the club, Jungkook stays in his dorm room, suddenly feeling the adrenaline rushing through his body even though he can't do shit besides sit here and wait. He goes through the random pictures he's taken of you - the cute, candid photos he had of you, the cute candid photo of you as his lock screen. He deletes all the texts in his inbox even though he knows it might have been a little late. It honestly hasn't mattered to him in such a long time, but he just never got around to wiping his inbox clean since he was so caught up with you - his baby.

"Is this going to turn into some kind of action movie? We bust through the doors, take down all the guards and steal Y/N?"

"No, hyung. Jesus. Do you forget you're an idol? That's probably the very last thing we should do."

"So, what do we do?"

"We just walk in there like we normally do?"

"Boring."

"Plus, we can't have Bigs onto us like that. We have to act like we don't know anything."

"Do you really think he's using something against her?"

"I don't know. I have to be honest though, I think Jimin's involved."

"W-what?" Jin says, furrowing his brows. "No, he can't be."

"Trust me. He always acts so weird around her, and he's probably the one person who hasn't taken this as seriously. He hasn't said anything to Jungkook."

"But why though?"

"I don't know, beats me. I just don't think he respects her. Or, likes her. Whatever it is."

"She hasn't done anything to him though."

"That makes it worse, doesn't it?"

"How could you be so sure?"

"Look hyung, I'm not. I just think he's involved. My gut says so. We'll find out whether I'm right or not, right?"

"I hope you aren't. That'll really mess Kookie up."

"Well. I love him, but he'll have to learn the hard way for butting into someone else's business like that. No matter what the reason is." Namjoon parks the car and fixes his rolled up sleeves before adjusting the Rolex on his wrist. He looks at Jin once more, nodding in approval once they both feel like they've fixed themselves enough to look presentable, not questionable.

Meanwhile, you had just finished up your time on stage so you headed to the back to take a break. Bigs hadn't given you the option to secure private bookings knowing damn well there would be opportunity for Jungkook and some of his boys to slip through and try to work their magic in private. As much as possible, you were just trying to protect Jungkook, even though you knew he wouldn't back down without a fight. You knew Bigs wasn't all that tough, but right now, he seemed to hold a lot of power with Jimin being on his team. And you knew damn well it was Jimin all along. Did you have concrete evidence? No. But your gut feeling might as well be enough with the way he talks to you. Why else would Bigs all of a sudden feel all mighty? Bigs had threatened Jungkook and your brother enough to keep your mouth shut. Enough to keep your attitude level at a 0.

The scene played in your head over and over again—

"I gave you a better life, you ungrateful piece of shit. You do as I say and your little Jungkook and your little Kai won't get hurt. You think I'm scared of them, sweetie? You think I'm scared of you? Your stepfather don't give a damn about you two. I can easily send my men down to do their magic, especially after how Jungkook treated me. Is that how he repays me after all the special treatment I've given him?" Mr. Bigs hunched over you. "You two wanna play me like a fool, I'll show you two what it's like to be played like a fool." He pulled on your hair before aggressively releasing and spitting to the side.

There was no way they would get dragged into this. Not anymore. They didn't deserve to be included in this no matter what it was.

Boy, did you miss Jungkook. Everything about him. It took everything in you not to come running back. It took everything in you not to answer those calls or texts like you normally would.

You chose him, every single time. You wish he knew that. Him and Kai.

You sighed, sipping on the flask you snuck in. The alcohol relieving you of any pain, helping you feel numb as the night goes on. You didn't want to feel tonight, you just didn't. Why would you, when everything had just been hurting you lately?

You had just finished dancing out on the main stage, throwing your ass back to some Megan and Cardi. A few other dancers were gathered at a vanity, sneakily sniffing lines of coke while Bigs and his men were busy paroling the main stage.

"You want some of this, sis? In celebration of you coming back?" One of the other dancers smirks at you. You simply shake your head no and return to the flask in your hand.

"I'm good, thank you."

"Alright, well it's here if you want it. Just let me know, babe." Her and the other dancers go back to their business on the vanity. However, another dancer continues to eye you, sympathy filling her expression as she approaches you while you sip on your flask once more. You were starting to feel pretty tipsy again, hoping you could just hide out in the back 'till the very end of your shift.

"Y/N." She says, her hand gently on your arm. "You okay?"

"I'm good." You purse your lips together to prevent yourself from tearing up. Those words were triggering for you because you were not okay, whatsoever.

"Why did you come back, babe?" She genuinely asks, worried about you. "Did Bigs do something?"

"No." You lied. "Things just didn't work out elsewhere I guess, and I need money."

"Didn't work out? I saw the way Jungkook handled Bigs that night." If anything, she was probably the one dancer who paid attention to the environment around her. Everyone else was oblivious to the shit that's been happening and that's because they didn't give a fuck about anyone else. Her stage name was Trixie, but her real name was Miki. She too didn't really enjoy being here but her parents talked so much about how she was useless and couldn't make it out in the world, especially as a vlogger. She loved it. She loved being in front of the camera and talking to the world thru the lens. But her parents thought it was dumb— that she was dumb for even wanting to grow a career online like that. Besides all of it, she remained sweet, and she was always super nice to you. You wouldn't be surprised if she knew about you and Jungkook, and you honestly wouldn't have a problem with it. She never treated you wrong. She knew Bigs had a tendency to overstep and abuse the power he had with his status and his money. However, she knew he was a big coward and that he was all talk, no play — especially if it was outside of the club. He may be a big honcho here, but outside, he had no chance. And she couldn't wait until the day he'd get his for all the mess he's caused.

"Yeah well, things happen." She shakes her head.

"Y/N, you can talk to me. Look, as much as I love seeing your face, you have so much potential. You don't deserve to be stuck here. Let me help you figure this out."

"I'm okay, Miki. Thank you, though." She nods, not wanting to press you any further.

"Well, I'm here for you." She gives your arm one good squeeze before walking off.

Eventually, the rest of the dancers retreat back out onto the floor, leaving you to hide away in the back room as long as possible — which is why Namjoon can't get a glimpse of you anywhere out in the main area. Bigs is actually a little taken aback to see both him and Jin walking through the club, even after everything that has gone down. But hey, business is business— and if they weren't gonna cause any trouble, so be it. He knows though, he knows full well there's a possibility they're here for you.

"Boys! Long time no see!" He greets them, Joon and Jin giving him a toothless smile in return. "How've you been? What brings you in?"

"Mr. Bigs." Namjoon says, smoothing down his shirt. "Ah, we're good, just getting busy prepping for the tour. Wanted to take a little breather tonight."

"Well, I'm glad you guys came here to do so. Can I get you two anything to drink?" The both of them shake their heads. "Anything to help relieve that stress?"

"We're good, thanks. Just gonna sit out on the floor for a bit."

"You two let me know if there's anything I can do for you, at all." Bigs smiles at them as he begins to watch them walk away. "Make sure she's covered." Bigs slightly turns his head to speak through the headset mic, alerting his men to keep an eye out. He thinks he's said it low enough so that Jin and Namjoon don't hear, but Jin catches the movement in his peripherals, causing him to pinch Joon's bicep.

"Back room." Jin says, subtly nodding towards the backroom as he keeps his gaze out on the main stage and adjusts his tie. Namjoon looks around to see Bigs has welcomed himself to the other side of the club, speaking to a few customers, looking distracted.

"I'm gonna go see if I can talk to her."

"Talk?! You said we were just scoping her out. Don't cause any trouble, Namjoon-ah. Please."

"Oh, now you suddenly don't want this action movie to come alive?! You sure were talking a whole lot about it in the car."

"Since when do you even take me seriously?!"

"I always take you seriously, hyung!"

"How about you just sneak towards the back door and get her attention? You said we can't go all out like that!"

"There's guards there too."

"Look, I just don't want you or Y/N to get hurt. Maybe we should just lay low and figure out how we can approach this better."

"Hey, can I get you two anything?" Miki interrupts, fully aware of who they are and what they're here for.

"No, sweetie. Thank you." Jin responds, flashing his 100-watt smile.

"You looking for Y/N?"

"Depends who's asking?" Namjoon says, trying to keep his guard up.

"Look, I'm not gonna rat you out if that's what you think." She puts her hand on her hip, tray still balancing on her free hand. "She's in the backroom. But there's no way you can get to her. Bigs is watching her for whatever reason."

"Yeah, we're aware. Can you send her a message for me?"

"Sure. You have 10 seconds though or else Bigs is gonna be onto you." She points towards Bigs slowly making his way back.

"Just tell her that Jungkook is worried about her and wants to help. Or, we want to help. We just wanna know what's going on."

"I'll try, but she didn't let up when I asked earlier."

"Thanks." Joon sighs.

"Shoo, I'll find you guys around." She says, sneakily walking off towards the bar with her empty tray as Bigs starts to eye the main floor. Jin and Namjoon welcome themselves to a seat on the side of the stage, acting normal as possible by throwing bills onto the stage for the dancers. Miki tends to her customers before she's setting her tray down and pretending to take a cigarette from her bra to take a quick "break." She heads to the back to see you still sitting at your vanity, head resting against the palm of your hand.

"Babe." You turn to look at her, eyes slightly glossed over.

"Hm?"

"RM and Jin are here. They said they want to help you, and if you can tell them anything, that's all they'd want."

"Miki—"

"Girl, look. Don't let this man keep running your life like this. I don't care what he said or did, this isn't you. You need to get out of here and you need to let people in. People who genuinely care about you." You sigh.

"How is that possible when Jungkook's own bestfriend doesn't even like me? And ontop of that, Bigs even dragged my little brother and my evil ass stepfather into this. I can't let anything happen to him, he's the only thing I have."

"I get that, and I'm sure Jungkook will do whatever it takes to protect you both. Why are RM and Jin here then? Whatever Jungkook's other friend's issue is, he needs to figure it out. It's obviously his own problem, something he created himself for no reason."

"I know he's helping Bigs keep me away from Jungkook. All the hurtful shit in the media, all the shit he's been tossing in my face. Whatever, I get it. He wins. I don't belong."

"Don't say that."

"It's true, and I know even if I chose Jungkook, he'd choose his bestfriend over me. Why would he go against that? They've been together for so long. I'm a fucking nobody." Miki knows this is all the alcohol running through your veins, but at least now, she knows Bigs isn't doing this on his own [as she assumed, he's a fucking pussy for the most part - he's a pussy who got handsy with the dancers cause that's all he can do to feed his ego].

"I don't think that's true, and I don't think it's a fair assumption when he's stayed by your side, hasn't he? He hasn't given up on you." She says before walking out. Really, things were just completely scrambled in your head. Just fucked up. Your questions, your uncertainty was strong enough to pull you towards the negative - the what if's, the assumptions, the rumors, the shit-talking. After all that, the positives were dim.

Miki grabs her tray and serves the first couple of customers in dire need of their drinks before she heads over to Jin and Namjoon to spill the information she received from that conversation.

"She won't budge. It sounds like a lot of this shit talking got to her head, so she came back to make herself feel better but then Bigs ended up turning this around on her, threatening Jungkook and her brother. If I were you, I'd get Jungkook to her before she can even come back here. Make sure her brother is with him too. Bigs is all talk but being the guys that you are — I wouldn't take any chances to ruin your reputation and all that." She smacks on her gum. "And I hate to tell you this, but one of your little friends has been working with Bigs. I don't know who, but you better let that little shit know he was wrong for getting in her head like that. She deserves way better." She says with a punch of attitude before walking away.

"Jimin?" Jin mouths out to Namjoon, who only shrugs in response.

"Let's go." Namjoon tosses a couple of more bills before they head out.

"Have a good evening, boys." Bigs yells out, causing the two of them to return a tight-lipped smile.

"Are we going to tell Kookie about Jimin?"

"No? Because we don't even know ourselves. His name was never dropped, and we'll look dumb if we acted on assumptions."

"This is so fucked up." Jin sighs, looking out the window.

"You're telling me."

When they finally arrive back at the dorm, Namjoon and Jin find Jungkook pacing around in his room, tossing a rubber ball against the wall to keep himself occupied. His doe eyes dart over to them, letting the ball drop to the floor while he nervously walks closer to them.

"So?"

"I'm sorry, dude." Joon sighed. "From what it sounds like, all this mess just got to her head so she went back to the club to make herself feel better. But Bigs ended up bringing you and her brother into the situation so, I'm assuming she's distancing herself to protect you in some way?" Namjoon runs his hand through his hair. "Honestly, I really don't know, that's as much as we got."

"We didn't even talk to her or see her, some other dancer helped us out. I guess she's a friend of hers? Or maybe she just likes Y/N. She wanted to help." Jin says.

"Fuck!" Jungkook groans, slamming his hand down onto his bed. "Why couldn't she just talk to me? We could have figured this out."

"Look, I'm sure there's a lot more to it and I'm sure it's difficult for her. Promise me you'll hear her out when you see her."

"I mean, yeah I know, I will. But, how did this get to her head so easily? I really can't wrap my head around it, I—" He catches how tense Joon and Jin suddenly get. He watches them nervously looking at each other, making him cock his head to the side and furrow his brows. "Wait, what is it? You know something else, don't you?"

"I mean there's really no concrete facts behind it so we can't necessarily say it's true."

"Well?" Jungkook asks, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles are turning white. But, before they could go any further, Jungkook's ringtone echos in the room. He quickly turns in case it's you calling, but he picks up anyway because it's someone equally as important.

"Kai?"

"C-can you come pick me up? My sister isn't picking up. I'll send you Eric's address." Jungkook worries when he hears the shakiness in his voice, his tone low to a whisper.

"Yeah, sit tight. I'll be right there." He hangs up, darting out of his room, Namjoon and Jin following after him.

"Where are you going?"

"I need to get to Kai."

"Let us come with!"

"Look, it'll be quicker if I go myself—"

"Jungkook-ah, stop. We're not gonna let you go alone." Joon and Jin make it just in time to join him in the elevator, heading straight for his car even if it's nearing 1am. Jungkook pulls up Kai's location, pressing on the gas to rush over there just in case Kai was hurt. And yes, Jungkook was going to give it to your fucking stepfather if he sees anything on Kai. He will fucking destroy him, he promises.

Jungkook, Namjoon and Jin walk into the house quietly, seeing Kai putting his finger up to his lips when he meets them near the kitchen.

"What happened?" Jungkook whispers, handing his bags over to Namjoon and Jin. Jungkook looks at the small hint of blood pooling near his nostrils and the cut near his eyebrow.

"I'll explain in the car, can you just take me to—"

"Really? Calling your sister's boyfriend and his friends over to save you? You really are a helpless little shit." Namjoon, Jin and Jungkook are all shielding each other and Kai from Eric, Jungkook's blood boiling seeing him standing there, clearly very drunk and not in the right state of mind.

"Aye, don't fucking talking to him like that." Jungkook's spits out, making Eric laugh.

"First you fall for my slut of a daughter, now you help rescue him? I thought you were so much better than that, Jungkook. You aren't the person people portrayed you to be. Shittiest idol I know. All of you."

"You don't know me." Eric snorts.

"You guys do know I help sponsor your shit right? I play a big role for you, don't come into my house acting like—" He slurs his words.

"Yeah, well fuck the contract." Namjoon's jaw clenches. "Better yet, don't fucking worry about it, I'll make sure to take care of it for you."

"You need me." Eric says, almost at a growl. "You need me and Bigs—"

"Since when?" Namjoon responds in a mocking manner as he begins to usher Jin, Jungkook and Kai towards the front door. "If you wanna send your people over, you can let them know I'm free tomorrow in the late afternoon. I'll be more than happy to tell 'em what kind of sick person you are."

"You can't just take him—" Eric tries to flip the script, obviously unaware that Kai has already turned 18. He grips onto Kai's arm and tries to pull him back, except he's intoxicated, so Jungkook easily pushes him off. He watches as Eric hits a bar stool, stumbling over himself before he drunkily falls on his ass.

"You're such a sad excuse of a stepfather, you aren't even aware he's 18 already. He doesn't need you." Jungkook scoffs. "I'm gonna send people for the rest of Kai's shit tomorrow. And let's get this straight - we never needed you or Bigs. You both aren't shit without us and yout fucking empire thrives because of us. And if you do anything to Y/N, if you even think about working with Bigs on doing anything to her, I fucking promise you I will bury you alive. I won't stop until you have nothing left. Don't underestimate me."

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everybody's angry and they're coming for me, but i can't give them energy that i won't receive; so i brush 'em off, i got a lot on my sleeve, like i'm moving backwards, but it's all on repeat; this place is getting crowded, i got no room to breathe

track twelve: hundred - khalid

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